"Ah, you know that much. Yes! Louisa Sinclair is my rival! Ten years ago she came back to England and wanted Francis to marry her. I fell ill--I became paralyzed. He forgot me, he forgot my love, and she became his wife. Oh, how I hate her! I hate him. It was on that account that I wrote to you, Claude, to reveal all." "You then acted out of revenge!" "Yes, I did!" said Mrs. Bezel sullenly. "Look at me, a wreck; look at her, his wife, rich and handsome and healthy." "Not healthy, poor soul," said Claude. "She is ill with the smallpox." "With the smallpox," echoed Mrs. Bezel joyfully. "I'm glad of it! I'm glad of it! Her beauty will depart, as mine has done. Then Francis may come back to me." "You love him still?" asked Captain Larcher, in wonderment. "Too well to ruin him. You want me to accuse him of the crime, but I tell you he is innocent; he knows nothing." "He was in the garden alone on that night. None other but he----" "He was not alone," cried Mrs. Bezel sharply. "Louisa Sinclair was with him. Yes, she followed him from the ball because she was jealous of me. In my flight I passed her at the gate. She had a cloak over her dress, but I saw that it was the costume of Mary, Queen of Scots." "And you knew her by that?" "Partly. My mistress told me that Miss Sinclair had a similar costume to her own, for she was very angry about it. But I saw her face as I fled. She may know who killed Jeringham. I do not. Hilliston does not. Now, I have told you all. Go away and leave me. I speak no more." "First tell us why you declared yourself to be my mother?" said Claude sharply. "For safety. I regretted that I had told you; that I had forced Hilliston into defending himself. I was afraid lest you should learn too much and denounce me as the criminal. So long as you thought I was your mother you would not dare to do so, and therefore I told you I was Mrs. Larcher." "One last word," said Captain Larcher, rising to his feet. "Your child. What became of it?" "Hilliston took it away," said Mrs. Bezel, in a melancholy tone. "I was ill at the time and he overcame my scruples. I don't know where my child is. Often and often have I wanted to see her again, but Francis has always refused. Oh, where can she be?" "I can tell you." "You?" cried Mrs. Bezel, starting up in amazement. "Yes. Your daughter Jenny was brought by Hilliston to me. I adopted her as my child, and she is now at Thorston with her Uncle Denis--your brother." Mrs. Bezel tried to speak, but could not. With a wild glance around she heaved a long sigh and fainted. The joy of hearing that her child was alive proved too much for her enfeebled frame. CHAPTER XLII. THE TRAGEDY OF A WOMAN'S VANITY.