it or not, he pointed, as he spoke, to the infant in
her arms.

Lettice heard a step outside. She went to the door, and spoke in a low
voice to Mrs. Jenny. Then she came back again, and said,

"What do you mean, Sydney, by 'this disgrace'?"

"Can you say one word to palliate what you have already admitted? Can
you deny the facts which speak for themselves? Great Heaven! that such a
shameful thing should fall upon us! The name of Campion has indeed been
dragged through the mire of calumny, but never until now has so dark a
stain been cast upon it!"

Theatrical in his words, Sydney was even more theatrical in his action.
He stood on the hearth-rug, raised his hands in horror, and bowed his
head in grief and self-pity.

"You pointed at the child just now," said Lettice, steadily; "what do
you mean by that?"

"Do not ask me what I mean. Is not its very existence an indelible
disgrace?"

"Perhaps it is," she said, kissing the little face which was blinking
and smiling at her. "But to whom?"

"To whom!" Sydney cried, with more of real indignation and anger in his
voice. "To its miserable mother--to its unscrupulous and villainous
father!"

Lettice's keen ears caught the sound of light and hesitating footsteps
in the passage outside. She opened the door quickly, and drew in the
unfortunate Milly.

Sydney started back, and leaned for support upon the mantelpiece behind
him. His face turned white to the very lips.

"Milly," said the remorseless Lettice, "tell Mr. Campion who is the
father of this child!"

The poor mother who had been looking at her mistress in mute appeal,
turned her timid eyes on Sydney's face, then sank upon the floor in an
agony of unrestrained weeping.

Except for that sound of passionate weeping, there was complete silence
in the room for two or three minutes, whilst Sydney's better and worse
self strove together for the mastery.

"Milly!" he ejaculated at last, in a hoarse undertone, "I did not know!
Good God, I did not know."

Then, to his sister--"Leave us alone."

So Lettice went out, but before she went she saw him stride across the
floor to Milly and bend above her as if to raise and perhaps to comfort
her. He did not ask to see his sister again. In a short ten minutes, she
saw him walking hastily across the Common to the station, and she
noticed that his head was bent, and that the spring, the confidence of
his usual gait and manner had deserted him. Milly locked herself with
h