nd amazement
into which Mary had thrown him, and said, "Ah--! Bella, do you hear
what she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed with
your servant to deceive your husband?"

Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words would
come, the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved Mary
Wells, and she snatched the words out of her mouth.

"What is the use of questioning _her?_ She knows no more than you do. I
done it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid that
from her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. I
done for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew no
better. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but know
it she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands
his cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare to
harm him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll take
them to your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your own
flesh and blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threaten
him! my darling, speak him fair; he is your father; he may have a bit
of nature in his heart somewhere, though I could never find it."

The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said,
"Forgive me," then sank at Richard Bassett's knees.

Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her,
trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room.

Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alone
have sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure to
his wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms.

Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the next
train, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother to
go with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself
not to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world.

This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and said
the young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke,
though a very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony.

The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that.

A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released,
and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, "Out of my
hands you go no more."

Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himsel