On hearing Reginald was the heir to the property a great joy appeared in Una's face, but it gave place to a look of pity and sorrow as she saw how keenly he felt the ignoble circumstances of his birth. "There is only one thing to be done in order to make sure," she said, rising. "Call Patience Allerby." Dick Pemberton went out of the room to fetch her, and during the dead silence which now prevailed Una walked across the room to Reginald and took his hand. "This makes no difference to me," she whispered fondly. "Do not think that your birth will stand in the way of our marriage, I love you too well for that." "God bless you," he muttered brokenly, and clasped her hand convulsively. The housekeeper entered the room looking pale and worn, with a hard, defiant expression on her face, as if she was determined to face the affair out to the bitter end, as indeed she was. On hearing her footstep Reginald arose unsteadily to his feet and looked at her anxiously. On seeing the anguish in his face she seemed to falter for a moment, but soon recovered, and veiled her agony under stolid composure. "Patience," said Reginald in a broken voice, "I have learned by a letter from Squire Garsworth that I am his son, and that Fanny Blake was my mother--is it true?" She bowed her head and replied slowly. "Perfectly true." Reginald flung up his hands with a cry of anguish and fell back in his chair--it was true--the possession of ten thousand a year could never cleanse away the stain which rested on his birth. "Why did you deceive the lad?" asked Dr. Larcher sternly. "By order of his father," she replied doggedly. "If you remember, sir, I went to London with Fanny Blake over twenty-two years ago; she told me the squire had ruined her, and that was why she left the village; six months afterwards her child was born and she died. I brought the baby down to the village to the squire, he refused to recognize his own offspring, but said he would pay for the boy's keep, so to save the good name of the child, I invented the story of the parents dying in France, and placed it in your care, and he has grown up all these years under the name of Reginald Blake." "And Reginald Blake is the squire's son?" "Yes. I hope he has done the boy justice at last." "He has. By his will Reginald Blake is acknowledged as master of Garsworth Grange." Patience gave a cry of delight, and with a face beaming with tenderness approached the young man. He arose slowly from his chair as she came near him fixing his wild eyes in horror on her face. She saw the look and half recoiled, but offered her congratulations timidly. "You are now rich--" she began, when he interrupted her furiously.