"I told her nothing," said Mrs. Belswin, vehemently. "So help me, Heaven! she knows nothing. I am her companion, her paid companion--nothing more." "I am glad you have had the sense to spare my daughter the story of your shame. How did you obtain the situation?" "It was advertised, and I got it through Dombrain." "Did he know who you were?" "How could he? Do you think all the world knows the story of my folly?" "Your folly!" he repeated, with deep scorn; "your sin you mean. Dombrain was a long time in New Zealand; he must have heard of the case." "If he did he never saw me. He did not recognise me." Sir Rupert looked at her doubtfully, as if he would drag the truth from her unwilling lips. She stood before him white, silent, defiant, and he arose slowly to his feet. "Twenty years ago," he said, coldly, "the law gave me my freedom from you, and I thought never to see you again. Like a thief you have entered my house during my absence. You have dared to contaminate with your presence my child--yes, my child, not yours. She ceased to be yours when you forsook her. How you obtained this entrance I will make it my business to find out; but now that I know that Mrs. Belswin is my divorced wife, I order her to leave my house at once. Go!" She uttered a piteous cry, and stretched out her hands towards him in an agony of despair. "No, no! you cannot be so cruel." "I am not cruel. By your own act you forfeited your right to remain under my roof." "But my child." "Your child! Ah, you remember her now, after deserting her for twenty years! Do you think I will permit you to contaminate her young life by your presence? Do you think that I can see you day after day and not remember what you were, and see what you are?" His wife cowered before his vehemence, and, covering her face with her hands, shrank against the wall. "Rupert!" she said, in a low pleading voice, "do not be so harsh with me. If I have sinned I have suffered for my sin. For twenty years I have longed for a sight of my child, but until now I dared not see her. Chance sent you away and gave me an opportunity of living with her as a companion. She does not know who I am. She will never know who I am, and as her paid companion she loves me! Let me stay beside her and have some happiness in my wretched life." "No; I will not! I wonder you dare ask me." "I dare anything for my child." "It is too late to talk like that--twenty years too late." "You will let me stay. Oh, Rupert, let me stay." "No!" "For God's sake." "No! No!" "Reflect! Some day you may need mercy. How can you expect it if you deny it to me?" "You have heard my determination. Go!" "Now?" "At this moment." "You would turn me out of your house like a dog?" "I would, and I do! It is all that you deserve at my hands." "Is there no mercy?" "None--from me. Go!" "I will not go," cried Mrs. Belswin, in despair. "I will not go, I tell you." Sir Rupert advanced towards the bell rope.