Silently Lord Blythe took the worn little hand and raised it to his lips.

“Pierce was more cruel than I thought was possible to him”—­he said, at last, very gently—­“But—­you have the best of him with you in—­his daughter!”

“His daughter!”

She sprang up, white and scared.

He gripped her arm and held it fast to support her.

“Yes,” he said—­“His daughter!  That is what I have come to tell you!  The girl who lives with you—­the famous author whose name is just now ringing through the world is his child!—­and her mother was my wife!”

There was a little stifled cry—­she dropped back in her chair and covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that rushed to her eyes.

“Innocent!” she murmured, sobbingly—­“His child!—­Innocent!”

He was silent, watching her, his own heart deeply moved.  He thought of her life of unbroken fidelity—­wasted in its youth—­ solitary in its age—­all for the sake of one man.  Presently, mastering her quiet weeping, she looked up.

“Does she—­the dear girl!—­does she know this?” she asked, in a half whisper.

“She has known it all the time,” he answered—­“She knew who her mother was before she came to London—­but she kept her own counsel—­I think to save the honour of all concerned.  And she has made her name famous to escape the reproach of birth which others fastened upon her.  A brave child!—­it must have been strange to her to find her father’s portrait here—­did you ever speak of him to her?”

“Often!” replied Miss Leigh.  “She knows all my story!”

He smiled, very kindly

“No wonder she was silent!” he said.

Just then they heard the sound of a latch-key turning in the lock of the hall door—­there was a light step in the passage—­they looked at one another half in wonder, half in doubt.  A moment more and Innocent entered, radiant and smiling.  She stopped on the threshold, amazed at the sight of Lord Blythe.

“Why, godmother”—­she began.  Then, glancing from one to the other, her cheeks grew pale—­she hesitated, instinctively guessing at the truth.  Lord Blythe advanced and took her gently by both hands.

“Dear child, your secret is ours!” he said, quietly.  “Miss Leigh knows, and I know that you are the daughter of Pierce Armitage, and that your mother was my late wife.  No one can be dearer to us both than you are—­for your father’s sake!”

CHAPTER VII

Startled and completely taken aback, she let her hands remain passively in his for a moment,—­then quietly withdrew them.  A hot colour rushed swiftly into her cheeks and as swiftly receded, leaving her very pale.

“How can you know?” she faltered—­“Who has told you?”

“Your mother herself told me on the night she died,” he answered—­ “She gave me all the truth of herself,—­at last—­after long years!”