e.

"My responsibility scarcely depends--does it--upon where you are?" Then
his voice deepened. "I desire, wherever you are, to cherish and care for
you--in your mother's place. I can't say what a joy it has been to me to
have you here."

"No!--that's nonsense!--ridiculous!--" she said, suddenly breaking down,
and dashing the tears from her eyes.

"It's very true," he said gently. "You've been the dearest pupil, and
forgiven me all my pedantic ways. But if not London--I will arrange
anything you wish."

She turned away, evidently making a great effort not to weep. He too was
much agitated, and for a little while he busied himself with some letters
on his table.

When, at her call, he returned to her, she said, quite in her
usual voice:

"I should like to go somewhere--to some beautiful place--and draw. That
would take a month--perhaps. Then we can settle." After a pause, she
added without hesitation--"And you?--what is going to happen?"

"It depends--upon whether it's life at the Rectory--or death."

She was evidently startled, but said nothing, only gave him her beautiful
eyes again, and her unspoken sympathy.

Then an impulse which seemed invincible came upon him to be really frank
with her--to tell her more.

"It depends, also,--upon something else. But this I asked Geoffrey not
to tell the others in the drawing-room--just yet--and I ask you the
same. Of course you may tell Mrs. Friend." She saw his face work with
emotion. "Helena, this woman that was my wife declares to me--that I
have a son living."

He saw the light of amazement that rushed into her face, and hurried
on:--"But in the same breath that she tells me that, she tells me the
tragedy that goes with it." And hardly able to command his voice, he
repeated what had been told him.

"Of course everything must be enquired into--verified. I go to town
to-morrow--with Ramsay. Possibly I shall bring him back--perhaps to
Ramsay's care, for the moment. Possibly, I shall leave him with
someone in town."

"Couldn't I help," she said, after a moment, "if I stayed?"

"No, no!" he said with repugnance, which was almost passion. "I couldn't
lay such a burden upon you, or any young creature. You must go and be
happy, dear Helena--it is your duty to be happy! And this home for a time
will be a tragic one. Well, but now, where would you like to go? Will you
and Geoffrey and Mrs. Friend consult? I will leave any money you want in
Geoffrey's hands."

"You