Repressing the feeling that prompted her to cry out--"He was my
father!" she replied--

"I am quite sure!"

Lavinia Leigh raised her little mittened hand and pointed to the
portrait standing on the harpsichord:

"That was Pierce Armitage!" she said. "He was a dear friend of
mine"--her voice trembled a little--"and I should have been glad
if you had been in any way connected with him."

As she spoke Innocent turned and looked steadily at the portrait,
and it seemed to her excited fancy that its eyes gave her glance
for glance. She could hardly breathe--the threatening tears half
choked her. What strange fate was it, she thought, that had led
her to a house where she looked upon her own father's likeness for
the first time!

"He was a very fine man," continued Miss Leigh in the same half-
tremulous voice--"very gifted--very clever! He would have been a
great artist, I think--"

"Is he dead?" the girl asked, quietly.

"Yes--I--I think so--he died abroad--so they say, but I have never
quite believed it--I don't know why! Come, let me show you the
rooms. I am glad your name is Armitage."

She led the way, walking slowly,--Innocent followed like one in a