of life and in magnificent
condition, while her father was already on the threshold of the grave
and drinking himself into a fever in a squalid hut in a village of
swamps. I told her that I suspected foul play, that I followed you both
and found her father left to the tender mercies of the savages,
deserted by you in the bush. I told her that many months afterwards he
disappeared, simultaneously with your arrival in the country, that a day
or two ago you swore to me you had no idea where he was. That has been
my story, Trent, let Miss Wendermott choose between them."

"I am content," Trent cried fiercely. "Your story is true enough, but it
is cunningly linked together. You have done your worst. Choose!"

For ever afterwards he was glad of that single look of reproach which
seemed to escape her unwittingly as her eyes met his. But she turned
away and his heart was like a stone.

"You have deceived me, Mr. Trent. I am very sorry, and very
disappointed."

"And you," he cried passionately, "are you yourself so blameless? Were
you altogether deceived by your relations, or had you never a suspicion
that your father might still be alive? You had my message through Mr.
Cuthbert; I met you day by day after you knew that I had been your
father's partner, and never once did you give yourself away! Were you
tarred with the same brush as those canting snobs who doomed a poor old
man to a living death? Doesn't it look like it? What am I to think of
you?"

"Your judgment, Mr. Trent," she answered quietly, "is of no importance
to me! It does not interest me in any way. But I will tell you this. If
I did not disclose myself, it was because I distrusted you. I wanted to
know the truth, and I set myself to find it out."

"Your friendship was a lie, then!" he cried, with flashing eyes. "To you
I was nothing but a suspected man to be spied upon and betrayed."

She faltered and did not answer him. Outside the nurse was knocking at
the door. Trent waved them away with an imperious gesture.

"Be off," he cried, "both of you! You can do your worst! I thank Heaven
that I am not of your class, whose men have flints for hearts and whose
women can lie like angels."

They left him alone, and Trent, with a groan, plucked from his heart
the one strong, sweet hope which had changed his life so wonderfully.
Upstairs, Monty was sobbing, with his little girl's arms about him.

CHAPTER XLII

With the darkness had come a wind from the se