Tamsin shook her head. “She was not what _I_ should call a lady, and I think I know a real lady when I see one as well as most people. She was not at all bad-looking, but as full of vanity as a peacock. Even at breakfast-time she always appeared in a silk or satin gown, with a lot of jewellery about her, which is not what ladies are in the habit of doing. Then, she used to make little slips in her talk, so that one could form a pretty good guess that her bringing up had been nothing particular. Her greatest delight was to flirt and carry on with the unmarried gentlemen on board, who used to encourage her in every way they could think of; just to make fun of her afterwards among themselves. But, with all her faults, hers was a dreadful fate—poor thing! To be laughing and giggling one minute, and playing off; as she supposed, one admirer against another, and the next to be overboard in the great black waste of waters! One wild despairing shriek came borne to our ears, and then all was silence. Oh, it was terrible!” There was a long pause, and then Tamsin said: “I suppose, dearie, that Mr. Matthew in his letter told you about a certain person coming to the ship and inquiring for his sister, and of his recognising her in a photograph of Mrs. Vane which was shown him?” Ethel nodded assent. “And you would also be told how the man in question stated that his sister had gone out as lady’s-maid only a little while before, that she was unmarried, and that it was impossible you should be her child?” “Uncle Matthew’s letter told me all that.” “Then, do you think, yourself, that any further evidence is needed to prove that, whoever else’s daughter you may be, you are not the child of the woman who called herself Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane?” “I suppose it must be as you say,” replied Ethel. “So that the mystery of my birth remains as much a mystery as ever, and, after all these years, there is very little likelihood of its ever being solved.” “And if it has been kept from you, you may rely upon it that it has been for the best. How can you tell from what unhappiness, from what unknown dangers, you may have been saved? Instead of encouraging vain dreams about a past which is locked up from you, try to reckon up by how many blessings you are surrounded. Think what a happy girl you are, or ought to be, in comparison with what you might have been, and——” “Oh, you dear old Tamsin, don’t for one moment get it into your head that I am anything but grateful and thankful from the bottom of my heart for—for—oh, for everything!” She had flung her arms round Tamsin’s neck, and she now cried softly on her shoulder for a minute or two.