“No!” roared Fair, jumping up and with so much warmth that Sir Nelson was frightened; “no!—and don’t say the word either! On my honor as a gentleman, I tell you, sir, that no daughter in her father’s house, no sister under her brother’s roof, was ever safer, purer, more sacredly held than Janet has been under mine. Her children have had more than a father’s care and love from me, and it is only to save them all from the disgrace and odium which will attach henceforth to my name that I now ask you to proclaim the truth—to publish the fact that my polluting blood does not run in their veins.” “But,” protested the Baronet, with manifest disgust and irritation, “what can be the explanation of this amazing state of affairs? If she is not your wife—and not——” “Don’t say it!” again commanded Fair. “I tell you, sir, I am not in a mood to be exasperated just now—and the very word would madden me when I think of what that woman has been to me and I to her.” Sir Nelson always afterward remembered how noble and elated by an almost supernatural uplift Fair had appeared as he stood there, warning him not to profane the tabernacled secret of his life. The old man’s heart went out to the tortured and defiant fellow. “Never fear, dear boy,” he began with a feeble voice; “I shall not speak or think it of her. But you ought to help me to speak the truth of all this madness by telling me just what it is.” Fair was deeply moved by his old friend’s sorrow and unwonted display of feeling, so he sat down by him and warmly shook his hand. After a few moments of quiet, he said in low, firm, deliberate tones: “Sir Nelson, pardon my weakness in showing you my heart just now, but the fact is, sir, that I have been under a strain—and on that one point I have always been naturally sensitive. I owe you an apology also for delaying to advise you fully and without emotion of the exact situation in which I now find myself inextricably placed. Let me tell you the whole story. It will seem incredible to you—until you recollect that I am the son of my father and that my heritage was what you alone know that it was.” Sir Nelson blew his nose, and finding nothing particular to say, blew it again; and Fair saw something over the terrace wall that took his attention until the dear old chap said with considerable heartiness in his voice again: “All ready, dear boy—forgive an old fellow—who loves you. “I first met Janet in Rio Janeiro, at which port her father was British Consul, and I was happily able to take the unfortunate gentleman for a long cruise on my yacht when his health broke down. He died on the yacht and we buried him at sea. Janet returned to England, and, although I loved her madly, I did not speak, because that wretched Buda-Pesth escapade of mine was still unsettled. So I completely lost sight of Janet and the years passed.