John, John!"

"Well," he cried, "is not what I tell you the truth? Would Philip give
it up if it were offered to him? He is almost a man--let him judge for
himself."

"Oh, John, John! when you know that the object of my life has been to
keep him from knowing--to shut that chapter of my life altogether; to
bring him up apart from all evil influences, from all instructions----"

"And from his birthright, Elinor?"

She stopped, giving him another sudden look, the natural language
of a woman brought to bay. She drew a long breath in impatience and
desperation, not knowing what to reply; for what could she reply? His
birthright! to be Lord Lomond, Lord St. Serf, the head of the house.
What was that? Far, far better Philip Dennistoun, of Lakeside, the heir
of his mother and his grandmother, two stainless women, with enough
for everything that was honest and of good report, enough to permit
him to be an unworldly scholar, a lover of art, a traveller, any
play-profession that he chose if he did not incline to graver work. Ah!
but she had not been so wise as that, she had not brought him up as
Philip Dennistoun. He was Philip Compton, she had not been bold enough
to change his name. She stood at bay, surrounded as it were by her
enemies, and confronted John Tatham, who had been her constant companion
and defender, as if all that was hostile to her, all that was against
her peace was embodied in him.

"I must go a little further, Elinor," said John, "though God knows that
to add to your pain is the last thing in the world I wish. You have
been left unmolested for a very long time, and we have all thought your
retreat was unknown. I confess it has surprised me, for my experience
has always been that everything is known. But you have been subpoenaed
for this trial, therefore, my dear girl, we must give up that idea.
Everybody, that is virtually everybody, all that are of any consequence,
know where you are and all you are about now."

She sank into a chair, still keeping her eyes upon him, as if it were
possible that he might take some advantage of her if she withdrew them;
then, still not knowing what to reply, seized at the last words because
they were the last, and had little to do with the main issue. "All about
me?" she said faintly, as if there had been something else besides the
place of her refuge to conceal.

"You know what I mean, Elinor. The moment that your home is known all is
known. That Philip lives and is w