Her dark eyes grew tender and luminous as she fixed them upon his face, while she beckoned him to a seat and seated herself near and facing him.

“You forget,” she replied, in the low, rich tones he had so often heard at Fair Oaks; “you forget that a mother’s love is instinctive, born within her with the birth of her child, while a wife’s love must be won.  I must recall the past to you, and you must listen; ’twas for this I sent for you, that you, knowing the past, might know that, however deeply I may have sinned, I have been far more deeply sinned against.”

“Not as regards my father,” he interposed, quickly, as she paused to note the effect of her words; “he sacrificed fortune, home, friends, everything for you, and you rewarded his love and devotion only with the basest infidelity.”

“That your father loved me, I admit,” she continued, in the same low, musical tones, scarcely heeding his words; “but, as I said a moment ago, a wife’s love must be won, and he failed to win my love.”

“Was his treacherous brother so much more successful then in that direction than he?” Harold questioned, sternly.  “Within six months after your marriage to my father, you admitted that you married him only that you might have Hugh Mainwaring for your lover.”

She neither flushed nor quailed under the burning indignation of his gaze, but her eyes were fastened upon him intently as the eyes of the charmer upon his victim.

“Half truths are ever harder to refute than falsehood,” she replied, softly.  “I said that once under great provocation, but if I sought to make Hugh Mainwaring my lover, it was not that I loved him, but through revenge for his having trifled with me only to deceive and desert me.  Before I married your father, both he and his brother were among my most ardent admirers.  The younger brother seemed to me far more congenial, and had he possessed one-half the chivalry and devotion which the elder brother afterwards manifested, he would have completely won my love.  The rivalry between the two brothers led to bitter estrangement, which soon became known to their father, who lost no time in ascertaining its cause.  His anger on learning the facts in the case was extreme; he wrote me an insulting letter, and threatened to disown either or both of his sons unless they discontinued their attentions to a ’disreputable adventuress,’ as he chose to style me.  Hugh Mainwaring at once deserted me, without even a word of explanation or of farewell, and, as if that were not enough, on more than one occasion he openly insulted me in the presence of his father, on the streets of London.  I realized then for the first time that I cared for him, coward that he was, though I did not love him as he thought, — had I loved him, I would have killed him, then and there.  Mad with chagrin and rage, I married your father, partly for the position he could give me — for I did not believe that he, the elder son and his father’s