“Sir Gilbert!” exclaimed Giovanna in a tone of genuine amazement. “Please to consider the circumstances of the case. Month after month went by, and every morning on opening my eyes, my first words were, ‘Surely I shall have a letter to-day.’ But none came. Not till a year had gone by did I give up all hope. Whether my husband was alive or dead, I knew not. What was I to do? America is a big country, and even if I had gone back to New York, I altogether fail to see how it would have been possible for me to trace him after the lapse of so long a time.” “You are quite right, madam. My question was a foolish one. When the year had gone by, what then? Did you never make any attempt to seek out your husband’s relatives?” “Never, Sir Gilbert. It was a matter I did not feel myself at liberty to pry into. Seeing that my husband had never spoken to me about his friends and connections, a certain pride—shall I call it?—withheld me from trying to penetrate a secret which he had not seen fit to share with me.” “At length, however, you saw cause to think differently.” “I was about to explain, Sir Gilbert,” said Giovanna with a touch of hauteur which became her well. “Time went on till my son was twelve years old, and then my father died (I had lost my mother many years before), after which event I determined to come to England, where my only brother had been some time settled. I wanted my son to become acquainted with his father’s country, and to train him up to become as much like an Englishman as possible. Besides, as time went on it became requisite that he should do something for his living, the whole of my income not amounting to more than a hundred pounds of English money a year. Not to weary you, Gilbert, I will merely add that my son is now, and has been for some time past, earning his living in London as a drawing-master.” “As a drawing-master?” ejaculated Sir Gilbert as if to himself. “It was quite by accident that my uncle here discovered that my late husband was your eldest son, Sir Gilbert; but after the discovery had been made it became a matter of anxious thought with us whether we should, or should not, proceed any further in the affair. At length we decided that, as a matter of simple justice to you, we were bound to acquaint you with the fact that you had a grandson living of whose existence you had heretofore been unaware, leaving it for you to make whatever use of the knowledge you might deem best.” “_Brava! bravissima!_” ejaculated the Captain under his breath as Giovanna came to an end. “I could not have done it better myself. Not a hitch nor a slip anywhere. What will the old boy do now?” What the “old boy” did was to take a few silent turns about the room with his hands behind his back, his eyes bent on the carpet, and his head sunk between his shoulders. It was his invariable practice when mentally puzzled or perturbed.