im before," he said, carelessly; "his name
is Guy Legard."

CHAPTER XI.

ON THE WEDDING EVE.

The family at Thetford Towers were a good deal surprised, a few hours
later that day, by the unexpected appearance of Lady Thetford at dinner.
Wan as some spirit of the moonlight, she came softly in, just as they
entered the dining-room; and her son presented his friend, Mr. Legard,
at once.

"His resemblance to the family will be the surest passport to your
favor, mother mine," Sir Rupert said, gayly. "Mrs. Weymore met him just
now, and recoiled with a shriek, as though she had seen a ghost.
Extraordinary, isn't it--this chance resemblance?"

"Extraordinary," Lady Thetford said, "but not at all unusual. Of course,
Mr. Legard is not even remotely connected with the Thetford family?"

She asked the question without looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed
on her plate, for that fair face before her was terrible to her almost
as a ghost. It was the days of her youth over again, and Sir Noel, her
husband, once more by her side.

"Not that I am aware of," Mr. Legard said, running his fingers through
his abundant blonde hair. "But I may be, for all that. I am like the
hero of a novel--a mysterious orphan--only, unfortunately, with no
identifying strawberry-mark on my arm. Who my parents were, or what my
real name is, I know no more than I do of the biography of the man in
the moon."

There was a murmur of astonishment--May and Rupert vividly interested,
Lady Thetford white as a dead woman, her eyes averted, her hand
trembling as if palsied.

"No," said Mr. Legard, gravely, and a little sadly, "I stand as totally
alone in this world as a human being can stand--father, mother, brother,
sister, I never have known; a nameless penniless waif, I was cast upon
the world four-and-twenty years ago. Until the age of twelve I was
called Guy Vyking; then the friends with whom I had lived left England
for America, and a man, a painter, named Legard, took me, and gave me
his name. And there the romance comes in; a lady, a tall, elegant lady,
too closely veiled for us to see her face, came to the poor home that
was mine, paid those who kept me from my infancy, and paid Legard for
his future care of me. I have never seen her since; and I sometimes
think," his voice failing, "that she may have been my mother."

There was a sudden clash, and a momentary confusion. My lady, lifting
her glass with that shaking hand, had let it fall,