know that," said Derrick, and his own voice shook a little.
"Strangely enough--I'm afraid you'll think I'm pretty impudent--but ever
since I saw you I have felt----Oh, well, I can't explain." He leant
forward with profound respect and a warmer feeling he could not
understand. "I suppose it was because you were so good to me; perhaps
because you were so lonely, here amongst all these people----Oh, I
_can't_ explain, and I'm afraid I'm distressing you," he went on
remorsefully; for the frail figure was trembling, and the tears had
gathered in the dark eyes. "I'm a blundering kind of idiot, and I'm
worrying you with my tuppenny-ha'penny affairs. Forgive me!"

She drew her hand across her eyes; then slowly, hesitatingly, laid the
hand on his arm.

"There is nothing to forgive," she murmured. "But tell me. I too have
felt--I am a lonely woman; you--you are young enough--you might
be--shall we say that I have been drawn to you as you say you have been
drawn to me--you said so, did you not?--that I have felt as if I
were--your mother."

"I wish to God you were!" said Derrick, huskily, and feeling, with
amazement, and an Englishman's annoyance, that his own eyes were moist.

"Let us pretend that we are--mother and son," she said, in so low a
voice as to be almost inaudible. "Therefore, as a son, you need conceal
nothing from me. Tell me, who is this man whose name escaped you?"

As she asked the question, she made an evident effort to control her
agitation, and her voice and manner were well-nigh calm, and infinitely
tender and persuasive.

"Oh, Heyton!" said Derrick, feeling that he would be quite safe to tell
her everything. "He is the eldest, the only, son of the Marquess of
Sutcombe; and, of course, he will be the next Marquess; and, of course,
that's the reason why Miriam--Miriam Ainsley--chucked me and married
him."

"This Lord Heyton, what manner of man is he?" she said.

"Oh, I'm afraid he's a bad lot; you'll see that, or he wouldn't have
played this low down trick on me. He's a weak sort of fellow who has
played the fool pretty thoroughly. I met him at the place where the
Ainsleys lived, a little village called Bridgeford; and though--it's
easy to be wise after the event--I didn't like him much, we got to be
kind of friends. He's full of low cunning and I'd no idea he was after
Miriam until it was too late. You see the sort of man he is."

"And he will be the Marquess," she said, musingly.

"Oh, yes, nothi