brain was
benumbed. He drew one arm across his face as though struggling to
recover some lost link of memory.

"Why, my good lass, what's this?" he said, and then smiled faintly and
made an attempt to raise her up.

"Who is at the convent at Westminster?" she asked.

Then all his manner changed.

"Why?--what of that?" he said.

"Mrs. Drayton was sent there in a cab to tell Mrs. Ritson to be at St.
Pancras Station at midnight to meet her husband and return to
Cumberland."

The face that had been pale became suddenly old and ghastly. There was
an awful silence.

"Is this the truth?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," cried the girl.

"I think I see it all now--I think I understand," he faltered.

"Forgive me!" cried the girl.

He seemed hardly to see her.

"I have been left in this room insensible, and the impostor who
resembles me--where is he now?"

He struggled with the sickness that was mastering him. His brain reeled.
The palms of his hands became damp. He staggered and leaned against the
wall.

"Rest ye a bit, my lad," said Gubblum. "You'll be gitten stanch agen
soon."

He recovered his feet. His face was charged with new anger.

"And the wicked woman who trapped me to this house is still here," he
said, in a voice thick with wrath.

"Forgive me! forgive me!" wept the girl at his feet.

He took her firmly by the shoulders, raised her to her knees, and turned
her face upward till her eyes met his.

"Let me look at her," he said, hoarsely. "Who would have believed it?"

"Forgive me! forgive me!" cried the girl.

"Woman, woman! what had I done to you--what, what?"

The girl's sobs alone made answer.

In his rage he took her by the throat. A fearful purpose was written in
his face.

"And this is the woman who bowed down the head of her old father nigh to
the grave," he said, bitterly, and flung her from him.

Then he staggered back. His little strength had left him. There was
silence. Only the girl's weeping could be heard.

The next instant, strangely calm, without a tear in his sad eyes, he
stepped to her side and raised her to her feet.

"I was wrong," he said; "surely I was wrong. You could not lie to me
like that, and know it. No, no, no!"

"They told me what I told you," said the girl.

"And I blamed you for it all, poor girl."

"Then you forgive me?" she said, lifting her eyes timidly.

"Forgive you?--ask God to forgive you, girl. I am only a man, and you
have wrecked my life."

T