"I had something left to live for now--the thought of my child. But where was I to find him, where to look? I, who had not a penny in the wide world. If I had had the means, I would have come to Devonshire to seek out the man who had so basely wronged me; but as I was, I could as soon have gone to the antipodes. Oh! it was a bitter, bitter time, that long, hard struggle, with starvation--a time it chills my blood even now to look back upon. "I was still in London, battling with grim poverty, when, six months later, I read in the _Times_ the awfully sudden death of Sir Noel Thetford, Baronet. "My lady, I am not speaking of the effect of that blow--I dare not to you, as deeply wronged as myself. You were with him in his dying moments, and surely he told you the truth then; surely he acknowledged the great wrong he had done you?" Mrs. Weymore paused, and Lady Thetford turned her face, her ghastly, white face, for the first time, to answer. "He did--he told me all; I know your story to be true." "Thank God! Oh, thank God! And he acknowledged his first marriage?" "Yes; the wrong he did you was venial to that which he did me--I, who never was his wife, never for one poor moment had a right to his name." Mrs. Weymore sunk down on her knees by the couch, and passionately kissed the lady's hand. "My lady! my lady! And you will forgive me for coming here? I did not know, when I answered Mr. Knight's advertisement, where I was coming; and when I did, I could not resist the temptation of looking on his son. Oh, my lady! you will forgive me, and bear witness to the truth of my story." "I will; I always meant to before I died. And that young man--that Guy Legard--you know he is your son?" "I knew it from the first. My lady, you will let me tell him at once, will you not? And Sir Rupert? Oh, my lady! he ought to know." Lady Thetford covered her face with a groan. "I promised his father on his death-bed to tell him long ago, to seek for his rightful heir--and see how I have kept my word. But I could not--I could not! It was not in human nature--not in such a nature as mine, wronged as I have been." "But now--oh, my dear lady! now you will?" "Yes, now, on the verge of the grave, I may surely speak. I dare not die with my promise unkept. This very night," Lady Thetford cried, sitting up, flushed and excited, "my boy shall know all--he shall not marry in ignorance of whom he really is. Aileen has the fortune of a princess; and Aileen will not love him less for the title he must lose. When he comes home, Mrs. Weymore, send him to me, and send your son with him, and I will tell them all." CHAPTER XIII. "THERE IS MANY A SLIP."