“Not just for a minute. What did you mean by the misfortune at my birth?” She was still white with fury. “Don’t you know? Don’t you know that you’ve no right to a name at all? You might have guessed, I think.” “How do _you_ know?” “I know well enough. I once heard Mr Pugsley say so to Lady Skene, when they were discussing what to do with you, and didn’t guess that I was hidden behind the curtains. I have never forgotten it, you may be sure.” “I am quite sure. You listened behind curtains like a born lady. Do you wonder that I have always instinctively detested you?” “No; I have shown you I don’t.” The storm in her had subsided in a moment. I wondered, but was not in the least mollified. “You have shown me nothing,” I said, “but the way to right myself at last with my relations. Now you can go.” She did not move, however, but turned as pale as her frock. “Richard!--O, Richard!” she implored. “Don’t hit me like that. You are so strong; and I am only a girl. I had no right to say it; it might have meant nothing; and Lady Skene has always been so good to me.” “What reason have you--or has she, for that matter--to expect any consideration from me? I will know the truth.” “Richard, make some allowance. You had insulted me too, you know.” “I had not.” “You had. You asked Lord Skene to stop me from going to you.” “I didn’t. He came and asked me himself. He told me to remember you were an heiress, and I answered that you didn’t visit me by my wish. _You!_” “It was detestable. I didn’t know. Do, for pity’s sake, forgive and forget.” “No; I have forgotten too long. I want to remember.” “Richard! O! O!--Richard, I hate pills--I’m not a lady--won’t anything soften you!” And at that moment the nurse, carrying the child, came round a bend of the garden. She stared and rocked, singing something tuneless; but Miss Christmas, darting past me, seized the infant from her arms, and carried it to the path. “Richard!” she whispered, “for his sake--your little brother’s!” My brother again. Never had anyone but this girl voluntarily assumed the natural relationship. I wavered for the first time. She saw it, with her sex’s quick intuition, and held out the warm soft bundle. “Have you never taken him in your arms?” she said. “He’s so small and weak. There, hold him, and let him plead for me.” “Miss Christmas!” cried the nurse. Her tone, all the immeasurable menial warning it conveyed, stiffened me instantly. I held out my arms and received the burden. I could have laughed at its insignificance. The apparent proportions of it had made me expect something staggering. It lay on me like a doll. Before I knew myself, I was smiling into the little red puffy face.