When I parted from Mistress Routh I said: "I have learned during the time spent under your roof how irrevocable your resolve is, and have accepted it as absolutely as yourself, but now that I am going away from England, which I shall probably never set foot in again, and it is still more probable that we may never meet, I have one promise to exact which you cannot refuse. It is presumable my way in life will be in some degree successful, and that my son may some day need such aid as I may be able to give him; he is yours while you live, but promise me when your time comes you will tell him who his father is. Because you have chosen a different way of life from mine, do not be tempted to allow the boy to go to strangers when you know he has a heart waiting to love and cherish him. I have never done a dishonourable action in my life, so far as I can judge, and, if only for his sake, I will always try and keep my conscience free to make the same affirmation. A message to Mr. Drummond, the banker, in Charing Cross, will always find me. Can you refuse?" "No; it is only justice. Your claim comes after mine. I promise I will not die without telling the boy who you are." For herself she resolutely refused to take a shilling more than was due for my lodging, but I succeeded in forcing her acceptance of a matter of twenty pounds, the last of my own money, not Lady Jane's, to be used for the boy. She stood beside me silent and unmoved while I kissed him in his sleep, and when I parted from her she said, "Good-bye, Captain Geraldine," with a composure I fain would have assumed myself, but it was impossible. The supper at Lady Jane's was gay enough, even the Vicomte contributing his modicum of entertainment, no doubt stimulated thereto by the thought of my near departure, and surely, when a man may give pleasure by his goings as well as by his comings, he is in a position to be envied. I sang Jacobite songs that evening with an expression that would have carried conviction to the Duke of Cumberland himself, and when I took my departure with the Vicomte after midnight, I left a veritable hot-bed of sedition behind. My companion, though outwardly civil, took my little pleasantries with so ill a grace that I was in a measure prepared for his words at our parting before the coach-office. "Chevalier, you are a man of many charming parts; I trust you will long be spared to exercise them in quarters where they may fail to give offence to any one." "My dear Vicomte," I replied, "Providence has bestowed on me only my poor talents, but has not granted me the power to provide appreciation in others. Still, if you should feel at any time that I am answerable for your personal short-comings, do not, I pray, let any false delicacy stand in your way. I should be complimented in sustaining such an argument." At which he only bowed in his stateliest manner, and wishing me a safe journey, bent his steps towards St. James's Street.