Meanwhile Miss Leigh’s little house in Kensington was the scene of mingled confusion and triumph.  The “paying guest”—­the little unobtrusive girl, with all her wardrobe in a satchel and her legacy of four hundred pounds in bank-notes tucked into her bosom —­had achieved a success beyond her wildest dreams, and now had only to declare her identity to become a “celebrity.”  Miss Lavinia had been for some days in a state of nervous excitement, knowing that it was Innocent’s first literary effort which had created such a sensation.  By this time she had learned all the girl’s history—­Innocent had told her everything, save and except the one fact of her parentage,—­and this she held back, not out of shame for herself, but consideration for the memory of the handsome man whose portrait stood on the silent harpsichord.  For she in her turn had discovered Miss Lavinia’s secret,—­how the dear lady’s heart had been devoted to Pierce Armitage all her life, and how when she knew he had been drawn away from her and captivated by another woman her happiness had been struck down and withered like a flowering rose in a hard gale of wind.  For this romance, and the disillusion she had suffered, Innocent loved her.  The two had become fast friends, almost like devoted mother and daughter.  Miss Leigh was, as she had stated in her “Morning Post” advertisement, well-connected, and she did much for the girl who had by chance brought a new and thrilling interest into her life—­more than Innocent could possibly have done for herself.  The history of the child,—­as much as she was told of it,—­who had been left so casually at a country farm on the mere chance of its being kept and taken care of, affected her profoundly, and when Innocent confided to her the fact that she had never been baptised, the gentle old lady was moved to tears.  No time was lost in lifting this spiritual ban from the young life concerned, and the sacred rite was performed quietly one morning in the church which Miss Leigh had attended for many years, Miss Leigh having herself explained beforehand some of the circumstances to the Vicar, and standing as god-mother to the newly-received little Christian.  And though there had arisen some question as to the name by which she should be baptised, Miss Leigh held tenaciously to the idea that she should retain the name her “unknown” father had given her—­ “Innocent.”

“Suppose he should not be dead,” she said, “then if he were to meet you some day, that name might waken his memory and lead him to identify you.  And I like it—­it is pretty and original—­quite Christian, too,—­there were several Popes named Innocent.”

The girl smiled.  She thought of Robin Clifford, and how he had aired his knowledge to her on the same subject.

“But it is a man’s name, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Not more so than a woman’s, surely!” declared Miss Leigh.  “You can always call yourself ‘Ena’ for short if you like—­but ‘Innocent’ is the prettier name.”