ands. He meant to have a clergyman read
the Burial Service over it, but before that could be arranged for he also
died--of fever, I gather, though nothing is very clear, except that the
two graves are there. I have seen them, and have also ascertained that
whatever property he left was appropriated by the scoundrel who kept the
hotel, and afterwards sold it, and cleared out of South Africa; and that
the child is not to be found. God knows what has become of her! The man
who robbed her father may have murdered or sold her--or taken her to
England. A man bearing his name was mixed up in a notorious case tried at
the Central Criminal Court five years ago. And the case, which ruined a
well-known West End surgeon, involved the death of a young woman. I trust
the victim may not have been the unhappy girl herself. My solicitors in
London have been instructed to make inquiries towards the removal of that
doubt...."

If those keen eyes of his had not been averted, he must have seen the
strong shuddering that convulsed the woman's frame, and the spasm of agony
that wrung the lips she pressed together, and the glistening damps of
anguish that broke out upon the broad white forehead. To save her life she
could not have said to him, "She whom you seek is here!" But a voice
wailed in her heart, more piercingly than Rachel's, and it cried:
"Richard's daughter! She is Richard's daughter! The homeless thing, the
blighted child I found upon the veld, and nursed back to life and
happiness and forgetfulness of a hideous past; whom I took into my empty
heart, and taught to call me Mother.... She is the fruit of my own
betrayal! the offspring of the friend who deceived and the man who
deserted me!"

The visitor was going on, his grave gaze still turned aside. "Of course,
the age of the unhappy girl whose death brought about the trial I speak
of--everything depends upon that. Mildare's daughter was a child of three
years old when she lost father and mother. If alive to-day she would be
nineteen years of age. I wish it had been my great good fortune to trace
and find her. She should have had the opportunity of growing up to be a
noble woman. In this place, if it might have been, and with an example
like yours before her eyes ... ma'am, good-afternoon."

He bowed to her, and went away with short, quick, even steps, following
the lay-Sister who was to take him to the gate.

She tottered into the chapel, and sank down before the altar, and str