“You’re quite out in your guesses, Mr. Brandon, for as clever as you think yourself; it does not concern my story a bit, but I will say this, that my Frank was Harry’s own son.”

“Then, were you married in this irregular way to Jamie Stevenson in the first place?” said Brandon, who saw no prospect of proving the desired non-cousinship.

“No, I wasn’t.  But Jamie was doing better in the world then, and he was saying, thinking that I wasn’t married, that for all that had come and gone, if the father would provide for the bairn any way handsome, he’d marry me yet, and I did not see much good in being the wife of a gentleman that would always be ashamed of me, and never bring me forward.  Mother thought he would do that, but I knew the man better by this time.  So I was telling Jamie that if I had only thought he’d have made me so good an offer I’d never have followed mother’s counsel, but have taken him that I liked twice as well as Harry; and, may be, it would have been better for me if Harry had not been so soft and mother so positive.  This was what Harry Hogarth heard that angered him so terribly, and he said I had cheated him.  He sent me money, but he vowed he would never look me in the face again.  Well, when Frank was about fourteen months old, Harry’s other brother died.  There was an awful mortality in the family at that time—­three within two years; and then he came in for the property.  Mother was in an awful passion at my having had anything to say to Jamie, and losing hold on my rich husband through my stupidity.  But I was his wife, and must be provided for at any rate.  So he wanted to make terms with me, and proposed that I should go out of the country altogether—­to Sydney—­where he would give me a decent maintenance for myself and the child.  Mother, at first, would not listen to this, and neither would I; but wanted to go to law for my rights.  But when he said he would expose everything about the marriage if we did, we gave in, and agreed to go to the ends of the earth to please him.  And, after we had made up our minds to it, we rather liked the notion of getting out of Scotland.  He would not trust to us going unless he saw us off; so he appointed to meet in London, where the ship was to sail from, and he would arrange all things for our going off quiet and comfortable; and then we was to part for ever.  Mother, and me, and Frank, went to London, and took lodgings in a very crowded lodging-house, full of people just ready to sail for America or some other place—­here to-day and away to-morrow—­and there Frank fell ill.  He had looked a strong enough child; but I think the stuff mother gave me had hurt him, for he had every now and then bad convulsion fits.  Being used to them, we did not take much notice of them; but now, when it was of such moment to us that the child should be alive, and that his father should see him, then by ill-luck, just an hour before the time appointed for our meeting, Frank took a worse fit than ever, and died in my arms.  I was very vexed indeed, and sorry, for I liked the child, and he was a very pretty little fellow, but mother was furious.