And so, with her hands still warmly held in his, she told him all.
In a sad voice, with lowered eyes and quivering lips, she related
her plaintive little history, disclosing her unbaptised shame,--
her unowned parentage,--her desperately forlorn and lonely
condition. And Robin listened--amazed and perplexed.

"It seems to be all my fault," concluded Innocent, sorrowfully--
"and yet it is not really so! Of course I ought never to have been
born--but I couldn't help it, could I? And now it seems quite
wrong for me to even live!--I am not wanted--and ever since I was
twelve years old your Uncle has only kept me out of charity--"

But at this Robin started as though some one had struck him.

"Innocent!" he exclaimed--"Do not say such a thing!--do not think
it! Uncle Hugo has LOVED you!--and you--you have loved him!"

She drew her hands away from his and covered her face.

"I know!--I know!" and her tears fell fast again--"But I am not
his, and he is not mine!"

Robin was silent. The position was so unexpected and bewildering
that he hardly knew what to say. But chiefly he felt that he must
try and comfort this little weeping angel, who, so far as he was
concerned, held his life subservient to her charm. He began
talking softly and cheerily:

"Why should it matter so much?" he said. "If you do not know who