Mark thought of the many times she had told him he was not a gentleman, but he merely repeated the word “Well?” while she went on: “If I let Fanny go, promise not to tell her who you are. There’s no knowing what she would do, and I could not bear to have everything come out as it would with Fanny calling you father and all that. I did many wrong things when we lived together, but I never meant half as bad as I talked, and when I thought you were killed in that dreadful way I was very, very sorry. I was going to stop in Montana on my way home to see if I could find any one who knew you. I am telling you this to show you that I am not as bad as you think. Let the past be dead and buried, and don’t let Fanny know. Will you, Mark?” She had both hands on his arm now and was looking at him with an expression he could not resist. “I promise that neither Inez nor I will tell her,” he said, “but do you know how hard it will be for me to see her and not tell her I am her father?” “Yes, I know; but it is better so. You must see that it is.” He did see it when he remembered what he was,—a man from whom Fanny would shrink, if the veil were lifted as it had been from Inez. “Fanny shall not know from me,” he said, and with this fear gone Helen began to speak of what all the time had been in her mind,—her diamonds. Had Mark heard that they were lost from Fanny’s hat and could not be found? “My ear-rings were with them. You remember them? I was going to give them to Fanny on her wedding day.” Every word she said cut like a knife, but Mark managed to answer naturally that he had heard that the diamonds were lost and to assure her that he would do whatever he could to find them and so would Mr. Hardy. “Oh, yes,—Mr. Hardy,—your daughter’s _fiancé_,” Helen rejoined,—“the young man who saved a coach from being robbed as your daughter saved ours. Fanny thinks highly of him.” Mark responded with a bow, and something in his face made Helen ask quickly, “Mark, is Tom Hardy _Jeff_?” “Yes, but let him stay Tom Hardy until he chooses to declare his identity himself. He will try to trace your diamonds,” Mark said, in a constrained voice. Helen bowed her acquiescence, but looked puzzled. Everything was puzzling,—everything annoying,—and her brain was in a whirl, making her wish to be alone. “Good bye,” she said to Mark, bowing him from the room. “It is too late for Fanny to go to the cottage to-night, but you will see her to-morrow. Remember your promise.”