A flush of colour overspread her pale cheeks.

"Indeed I am very sure!" she answered, steadily--"He was a good
man. There was never a stain on his character--though he allowed
people to think wrong things of him for my sake. That was his only
fault."

He was silent, waiting for her next word.

"I think perhaps I ought to tell you," she continued--"because
then you will be able to judge him better and spare his memory
from foolish and wicked scandal. He was not my father--I was only
his adopted daughter."

Mr. Medwin gave a slight cough--a cough of incredulity. "Adopted"
is a phrase often used to cover the brand of illegitimacy.

"I never knew my own history till the other day," she said, slowly
and sadly. "The doctor came to see Dad, with a London specialist,
a friend of his--and they told him he had not long to live. After
that Dad made up his mind that I must learn all the truth of
myself--oh!--what a terrible truth it was!--I thought my heart
would break! It was so strange--so cruel! I had grown up believing
myself to be Dad's own, very own daughter!--and I had been
deceived all my life!--for he told me I was nothing but a nameless
child, left on his hands by a stranger!"

Mr. Medwin opened his small eyes in amazement,--he was completely
taken aback. He tried to grasp the bearings of this new aspect of