He did not flinch as his eyes marked the scarred, discolored skin that covered the once delicately lovely face. After a pause Ronald said, gravely: "Huntington had a confession to make to you, Lina." "A confession?" she repeated, turning her dark eyes from the window to look at him with grave surprise. "Yes," he said. "You must have wondered, Lina, often and often, what mysterious discovery caused him to give you up in the very moment when, by violence he had made you his bride." "I have wondered over it often. It was the happy cause that delivered me from a life more bitter than death," she replied, with a shudder. "He explained it to me, Lina, and perhaps I should leave the story untold to you. Are you willing for me to do so?" he inquired. Lina meditated a moment, then replied: "I would prefer to hear it." "Spoken like a true daughter of Eve," said her companion, with a slight smile. "Very well, Lina, I will do as you say, but I fear it will pain you to hear my story. And there is one thing you must promise me. You will tell no one else?" "Yes, I will promise that," she replied. "Listen to a bit of the outlaw's history, then," he said. "In the first place, his true name was not Gerald Huntington at all." "Then what----" said Lina, and paused abruptly. "It was an _alias_ he adopted when he fell into evil and wicked courses. He belonged to a well-born family in France. He was not an American, Lina--he was French." Lina's eyes were a little startled as she looked up at him; a sight pallor crept about her lips. "He was the younger son of a man who was so severely just, Lina, and so proud and passionate, withal, that his children feared him instead of loving him. His eldest daughter ran away with a young American artist, and died under Virginian skies in only a few brief months. His younger son, maddened by the sternness and harshness of his only parent, also ran away to America. He fell into temptation, yielded blindly to evil, and cast aside forever, the noble name he had disgraced." He paused, and Jaquelina regarded him with wild, wondering eyes. "Lina, I need not tell you more," he said. "You can guess." She lifted her small hands dizzily to her brow. "Tell me yourself," she said. "I am so dazed it seems to me I cannot understand unless I hear the very words." He said them over, reluctantly enough: "Gerald Huntington's true name is Ardelle. Your mother, little Lina, was his elder sister. He was your own uncle. Your mother's jewelry revealed your true identity to him that night." A moan of pain came from the girl's white lips as she pressed her hand to her brow. "My own uncle!" she cried. "Oh, the shame and disgrace of it!" "It is a buried secret," he replied. "No one will ever know! I promised him that myself, Lina. He died repentant. I believe that a noble nature was marred when Gerald Ardelle, with his princely beauty and glorious intellect, fell into evil ways." "But he died repentant," she murmured, hopefully.