"Everything. And it is no wonder, seeing that she is the root of all the evil." "How do you mean that she is the root of all the evil?" "Lady Burville is my mother, Allen." "Great heavens! Your mother--Mrs. Carew!" "Yes. Mrs. Carew, Mrs. Dargill, Lady Burville--whatever you like to call her. I know her story, Allen, and what she failed to relate Mrs. Tice told. I know that my father killed yours, and that we can never marry." "Lady Burville--your mother told you this!" he stammered; "and I was so careful to hide the truth from you!" "I know you spared me, in the goodness of your heart, Allen, but it was better that I should know the truth. Yes, I went up to town; I restored the pearl brooch to Lady Burville--I cannot call her my mother--and I heard her story." "Dora!" Allen seized her hand again. "Did your mother kill Mr. Edermont?" "No. Thank God, she is innocent of that crime!" "Then how was it I found her brooch by the dead body?" "She dropped it in the room when she went to see Mr. Edermont on that night." "But why did she see Edermont?" "He sent for her to deliver up a packet of letters she had written to him. It is a long story, Allen, and a sad one. Listen, and I will tell you all." Allen signified his desire to hear the story, and listened eagerly while she told him what her mother had related. To make the information complete, Dora passed on to the history of the murder, as told by Mrs. Tice. When she finished, and Allen was in possession of all the facts, she waited for him to comment thereon. This he was not long in doing. "I see that you know all, Dora," he said with a melancholy smile. "Yes, this is what Mr. Edermont told me on that day. I lost my head when he ended; I believe I advanced towards him in a threatening manner, to thrash him for the share he had taken in the matter. It was then that he threw up the window and cried out that I wished to kill him. Probably I was wrong to act as I did, as the miserable little creature was not responsible for the death of my father; but I did not consider that at the moment. When he cried out to you and Joad, I left the room, and the house. You remember, I would not speak to you when I went. I could not, my dear; the revelation had proved too much for my self-control. I felt half-mad, for I saw that I had lost you for ever." "And why did you go up to London?" asked Dora anxiously. "Edermont referred me to a file of the _Morning Planet_, containing an account of the tragedy which ended in the death of my father." "You went up to see an account of your father's murder?" "Yes. I could not bring myself to believe that matters were so bad as he made out. But in London I went to the office of the paper; I turned up the report, and it was true enough. Your father shot mine, as was stated by Edermont. Afterwards I went down to Christchurch, and found out the rest of the story from an old housekeeper." "Did you learn that Lady Burville was my mother?"