"Your husband!" cried Dora in astonishment. "Do you mean to say that Mr. Edermont was my father?" "I say nothing of the sort," retorted Lady Burville impatiently. "Julian was my second husband; you were the offspring of my first." "Then my father is dead?" "No, he isn't; I am sure I don't know; I thought he was, but it seems he isn't," said Lady Burville incoherently. "Oh dear, oh dear! what a tangle it all is!" "I cannot understand," said Dora in perplexity. "Perhaps if you tell me your story from the beginning I may gather what you mean." "I shall tell you as much as suits me," replied Lady Burville, "but I cannot tell you all. It is too terrible!" She shuddered, and looked round. "Perhaps you may be able to help me, Dora; I am in the power of a man." "Of what man?" "Of Augustus Pallant. You know, he was down at Hernwood with me. Oh, my dear, he is a terrible man, and he knows all." "Knows all what?" "All my story--all your story--all Julian's story. He threatened to tell my husband." Here her eyes wandered to the stern-faced portrait. "I am so afraid of my husband," she said, with a burst of tears, "and Mr. Pallant is merciless. Oh, my dear, my dear, if you could only help me!" "Tell me your story, and I may be able to do so," said Dora cheerfully. She was beginning to believe that Lady Burville spoke truly, and that she was really her mother. It seemed doubtful as to whether she was guiltless or guilty, and Dora was prepared to hear both sides of the question before judging. But even if Lady Burville proved the truth of her assertion, Dora was not prepared to take her for a parent, and be sentimental over the discovery. Mother and daughter had been so long parted and estranged, that no revival of the maternal or filial feeling was possible. Dora pitied her mother; she was sorry for her; but she did not love her. In the meantime Lady Burville told her story, in her usual flippant manner, with many tears. The woman's nature was shallow in the extreme. "I was married to your father at an early age," she said. "He was a sea captain, and immediately after the honeymoon he went to sea. I lived at Christchurch, in Hants, while he was away. Mr. Edermont was there also." "Is not Edermont a feigned name?" asked Dora suddenly. "How clever you are!" said her mother. "Yes; Mr. Edermont's real name was Dargill--Julian Dargill. He was an old admirer of mine, and wanted to marry me, but I was forced by my parents to become the wife of George Carew." "Then I am really and truly Dora Carew?" "Of course--your father's name. Well, after a few months I received news that my husband's ship was lost off the coast of Africa. All hands were drowned except the first mate. He was saved, and brought the story to England. So you see, my dear, I was a widow six months after marriage." "Are you sure that my father was drowned?" demanded Dora doubtfully.