“‘This is Robin,’ she said, turning to the child, who I now discovered was a cripple in its feet, and unable to walk. ‘Did Richard ever tell you of Robin?’ “There was a hesitancy now in her voice, as if she knew Richard had never told me of him, and doubted her own integrity in asking the question. “‘No,’ I replied, ‘the doctor never told me of Robin, nor yet of himself.’ “‘Richard is very reticent,’ she answered; and then as she saw my glance constantly directed to Robin, she evidently tried to keep me from talking of him by asking numberless questions about Richard, and by telling me what a good, kind child he was to her. “It is true I did not suspect her then of such a motive, but I can see now how she headed me off from the dangerous ground on which I leaped at last, for I could not resist the expression of that child’s face, and breaking away from what she was telling me of Richard, I knelt by his chair, and kissing his round cheek, asked: “‘Whose boy are you?’ “‘Papa Richard’s and grandma’s,’ he replied, and then there flashed upon me the thought that in spite of his deep blue eyes and soft golden curls he was like Dr. West. For an instant I was conscious of a sharp, stinging pain, as I said to myself, ‘Was Dr. West ever married?’ Surely he would have told of that,—would at some time have mentioned his wife, and with the pain there came the knowledge that I did care more for Dr. West than I had supposed; that I was jealous of the dead woman, the mother of this child. Mrs. West must have divined a part of my thoughts, for she said half laughingly, like one under restraint: “‘He has always called my son “Papa Richard,” as he is the only father the child ever knew,’ and a shadow flitted across her face as she directed my attention to a tall heliotrope near by. But I was not to be evaded; curiosity was aroused, and replying to her remark concerning the heliotrope, I turned again to Robin, whose little hand I now held in mine, and said, ‘He is your grandchild?’ “Suddenly the dark eyes looked afar off as if appealing to something or somebody for help; then they softened and tears were visible in them. “‘Poor little Robin, he has been a source of great sorrow as well as of comfort to me, Miss Freeman,’ and Mrs. West’s delicate hand smoothed and unwound the golden curls clustering around Robin’s head. ‘So I used to unwind her curls,’ she continued abstractedly. ‘Robin’s mother. I must show you her picture when we go in. She was very beautiful, more so than any one I ever knew, and Richard thinks the same.’ “Again that keen pain, as of a sharp knife gliding through my flesh, passed over me, but I listened breathlessly, while still caressing the child she continued: