"Yet it will be impossible or most unwise for a marriage to take place, dear Denzil, without further details," said Aunt Bee. She spoke hesitatingly, loath to wound, but with a gravity which fixed his attention. "If this man is still alive--this Rankin Leigh--I suppose he would be fairly certain to hear of his niece's marriage. You cannot marry her under any but her true name. Veronica Leigh is not a common name; and the wedding of Denzil Vanston of Normansgrave must be publicly announced. You would not like ugly facts to crop up about your wife." Denzil crimsoned. "Why, what facts?" he asked. "What could turn up?" She replied cautiously: "If, as you tell me, this man was intending to hand her over to the kind of life that is implied by such a training, he must be a person on a very different social level from ourselves. Remember, Felix rescued her from a lodging-house in Deptford. I am not a snob, my boy, and I know that lilies-of-the-valley are now and then found on dust-heaps. I acknowledge with all my heart that Rona is a lily of a girl. But it will not be pleasant for you to have undesirable people coming about you, perhaps blackmailing you to have facts about your wife's origin kept dark. However dearly we love Rona, the fact remains that we do not know who she is. Remember, Denzil, it is a question of the mother of your children--of future Vanstons, dear boy." The young man hid his hot face in his hands. "You," he said, in smothered tones, "you did not dissuade me--we have acted together in this--you and I." "Yes, Denzil. I willingly shoulder the blame. The girl herself was her own passport; and her brother's letter convinced me of his own gentle birth and education. But remember, I thought them brother and sister. That made all the difference. Had I known that they were almost strangers--that he took her from such a place--had I known, in short, what I know now--I might have acted differently. I might have given other advice. For it is well for a man to marry his equal; it makes for happiness." "One can see," said Denzil, in a hollow voice, "why he dare not let it out. If we had known he was not really her brother, we should not have allowed him to take her away. We should have considered him utterly unfit to be the guide or helper of such a girl. What do you advise, Aunt Bee? Shall I write to the Convent School and see whether the Reverend Mother can tell me anything?" "An excellent idea," said Miss Rawson, "though, judging from what you say Rona told you, the Reverend Mother does not know much. Still, she might give us a clew. I do think we ought to inform ourselves as far as we can." "There is one thing," remarked the Squire, "if the uncle knows the girl is to make a really good marriage, and be off his hands, he would not be likely to object, would he?"