Helen paused again, and caught her breath, for she had been speaking very swiftly, shaken by the memory of the scene; the other put in, in a low tone, “I heard all about this woman’s death, Helen, and I know about her—­that was how I happen to be here.”

And the girl gave a start, echoing, “Why you happen to be here?” Afterwards she added quickly, “Oh, I forgot to ask you about that.  What do you mean, Arthur?”

He hesitated a moment before he answered her, speaking very slowly.  “It is so sad, Helen,” he said, “it is almost too cruel to talk about.”  He stopped again, and the girl looked at him, wondering; then he went on to speak one sentence that struck her like a bolt of lightning from the sky:—­“Helen, that poor woman was my mother!”

And Helen staggered back, almost falling, clutching her hands to her forehead, and staring, half dazed.

“Arthur,” she panted, “Arthur!”

He bowed his head sadly, answering, “Yes, Helen, it is dreadful—­”

And the girl leaped towards him, seizing him by the shoulders with a thrilling cry; she stared into his eyes, her own glowing like fire.  “Arthur!” she gasped again, “Arthur!”

He only looked at her wonderingly, as if thinking she was mad; until suddenly she burst out frantically, “You are David’s child!  You are David’s child!” And then for fully half a minute the two stood staring at each other, too much dazed to move or to make a sound.

At last Arthur echoed the words, scarcely audibly, “David’s child!” and added, “David is your husband?” As Helen whispered “Yes” again, they stood panting for breath.  It was a long time before the girl could find another word to speak, except over and over, “David’s child!” She seemed unable to realize quite what it meant, she seemed unable to put the facts together.

But then suddenly Arthur whispered:  “Then it was your husband who ruined that woman?” and as Helen answered “Yes,” she grasped a little of the truth, and also of Arthur’s thought.  She ran on swiftly:  “But oh, it was not his fault, he was only a boy, Arthur!  And he wished to marry her, but they would not let him—­I must tell you about that!” Then she stopped short, however; and when she went on it was in sudden wild joy that overcame all her other feelings, joy that gleamed in her face and made her fling herself down upon her knees before Arthur and clutch his hands in hers.

“Oh,” she cried, “it was God who sent you, Arthur,—­oh, I know that it was God!  It is so wonderful to think of—­to have come to us all in a flash!  And it will save David’s life—­it was the thought of the child and the fate that it might have suffered that terrified him most of all, Arthur.  And now to think that it is you—­oh, you!  And you are David’s son—­I cannot believe it, I cannot believe it!” Then with a wild laugh she sprang up again and turned, exclaiming, “Oh, he will be so happy,—­I must tell him—­we must not lose an instant!”