t? that she
is taking him to the grave of his.... And, good heavens! the person the
child calls 'Mummy' is kneeling beside it, her head bent, apparently not
hearing their approach.

'Oh, Mummy look,' cries the child, 'look what bootiful flowers me's
gottened, him wouldn't let me get them meself. Look at him, Mummy,' she
urges as the woman still kneels with lowered head, 'him's name is Paul.'

She raises her head at the name, and he starts back on seeing her face
and looks at her for a moment with astonishment.

'Clotilde,' at length he says, and his voice is low, 'you here.'

Her head is once more bowed--

'You here,' he repeats, 'here at the grave of your child and'--with a
slight pause 'mine. It is four years since I saw you last, and now to
meet you like this.'

No sound comes from the kneeling figure. 'Where is ... he?' Paul asks in
a hoarse unnatural voice.

'Dead,' she whispers.

'Ah!' and he breathes a sigh of relief, 'so you always come here,' he
says, repeating the little girl's words, and then remembering her. 'Good
God!' he cries, 'that child! speak, Clotilde, tell me,' he bends forward
and touches her almost roughly, 'for Heaven's sake, speak, and say she
is not your child, but no! I would rather not hear it,' and overcome by
a strong emotion, he turns towards the sea, while a tumult of passionate
strife rends his very soul.

Why had he saved the child. One minute more where she had been would be
certain death, if he had only known who she was he would never have
rescued her, and yet--and yet--what harm has the _child_ done, that he
should wish for her death like this.

Poor little innocent child, but who does she remind him of--not
Clotilde, not that other, no it is Philippa she is like, what could it
all mean.

A little tug at his leg interrupts his train of thought, and he becomes
aware that the child is standing at his side, his first impulse is to
push her away roughly, but the little thing is looking up at him so
gravely. 'Mummy says,' she begins, 'that she doesn't know who I is,
I'se Baby, and got losted years ago, but Mummy loves me.'

Paul returns quickly, 'Is this true?' he asks.

'Yes,' she replies slowly, 'quite true, I found her, and was never able
to trace her parents; it is nearly three years ago now.'

'Three years, have you kept her,' he says, 'you! a woman with a past
like yours, how--'

'Spare me! spare me!' she cries, 'have I not suffered enough, am I not
suffering eno