“You see I had begun the task before your father came,” Floy said, with a sad smile; “but before we resume it I have something to say to you,” she added with an effort, growing so pale that Espy caught her in his arms, thinking she was about to faint. “My poor Floy!” he said, “if it is anything painful, don’t tell it; there is no need.” “I want you to know it, Espy,” she sighed low and tremulously, “but to keep it secret from all others unless--unless it--circumstances should render it necessary that--” Her head dropped upon his shoulder, and with a burst of hysterical weeping, “Oh, Espy, Espy!” she cried, “I’m more than orphaned; I’ve lost my identity; I’m not Floy Kemper--not the child of the dear parents I mourn, except--except by adoption!” He was greatly surprised, but only drew her closer to him, as one made dearer still by her sore distress, her utter loneliness; and as she went on in her low, quivering tones, “I’ve none now but you; I’m all alone in the wide world--not a relative living, so far as I know,” a strange thrill of joy mingled with his sympathetic grief--joy that she was his, his alone to love and cherish to life’s end; that on him only she would lean as her earthly stay and support. Something of this he whispered in reply, accompanying his words with fond caresses and endearing epithets. “How good and noble you are, my Espy!” she said. “You still hold me to your heart without waiting to learn who or what I am.” “You are my own little Floy, whom I have loved from her very babyhood,” he interrupted, holding her fast as she made a movement as if to release herself from his embrace, “and that is all I care to know.” She lifted her large, lustrous eyes to his with a look of grateful love. “No, no, I will not take advantage of your generous affection,” she said, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Wait till I have told you all--till you know everything. Till then I will not hold you bound by--what passed between us last night.” “I will not accept my freedom”--he began impetuously. But she stopped him with an imperative gesture. “Hear my story.” And in a few rapid sentences she gave him the facts as learned from Mrs. Kemper. His face brightened as she proceeded. “What is there in this, Floy, to come between us, or even to raise an objection to our union in the mind of the most captious?” he asked. “You were born in wedlock, your mother was a lady, and presumably your father a gentleman. Besides, there is absolutely no need that any one but our own two selves should ever learn these facts. You are known as the child of Mr. and Mrs. Kemper, and that you are not, concerns us alone.” “Is that so?” “Certainly; and now let us look for the will.” “The will!” A sudden painful thought had flashed upon her. Espy saw it in her face. “Well, dearest, what is it?” he asked. “If we should not find it?” Her voice was low and husky.