your travels."

"Indeed, you do me wrong, Madame," I replied; "I am here by the merest
chance."

Again she laughed lightly, and stepping past me took her seat on the
oak from which I had risen. I marvelled that this woman, with all
her self-possession, could be the same as she who had held her room,
cowering, these four days past. Admiration for her courage mingled with
my other feelings, and for the life of me I knew not where to begin. My
experience with women of the world was, after all, distinctly limited.
Mrs. Temple knew, apparently by intuition, the advantage she had gained,
and she smiled.

"The Ritchies were always skilled in dealing with sinners," she began;
"the first earl had the habit of hunting them like foxes, so it is said.
I take it for granted that, before my sentence is pronounced, I shall
have the pleasure of hearing my wrong-doings in detail. I could not ask
you to forego that satisfaction."

"You seem to know the characteristics of my family, Mrs. Temple," I
answered. "There is one trait of the Ritchies concerning which I ask
your honest opinion."

"And what is that?" she said carelessly.

"I have always understood that they have spoken the truth. Is it not
so?"

She glanced at me curiously.

"I never knew your father to lie," she answered; "but after all he had
few chances. He so seldom spoke."

"Your intercourse with me at Temple Bow was quite as limited," I said.

"Ah," she interrupted quickly, "you bear me that grudge. It is another
trait of the Ritchies."

"I bear you no grudge, Madame," I replied. "I asked you a question
concerning the veracity of my family, and I beg that you will believe
what I say."

"And what is this momentous statement?" she asked.

I had hard work to keep my temper, but I knew that I must not lose it.

"I declare to you on my honor that my business in New Orleans in no way
concerns you, and that I had not the slightest notion of finding you
here. Will you believe that?"

"And what then?" she asked.

"I also declare to you that, since meeting your son, my chief anxiety
has been lest he should run across you."

"You are very considerate of others," she said. "Let us admit for the
sake of argument that you come here by accident."

It was the opening I had sought for, but despaired of getting.

"Then put yourself for a moment in my place, Madame, and give me credit
for a little kindliness of feeling, and a sincere affection for your
son."

There