I am a scoundrel, I know, but--"

He breaks down--the sight of her face unmans him. He turns away, his
heart beating horribly thick. How long the ghastly pause that follows
lasts he never knows--a century, counting by what he undergoes. Once,
during that pause, he sees her fixed eyes turn slowly to his mother's
picture--he hears low, strange-sounding words drop from her lips:

"He swore by your dying bed, and see how he keeps his oath!"

Then the life that seems to have died from her face flames back.
Without speaking to him, without looking at him, she turns to leave
the room. On the threshold she pauses and looks back.

"A wife and a son," she says, slowly and distinctly. "Sir Victor
Catheron, fetch them home; I shall be glad to see them."




CHAPTER II.

WIFE AND HEIR.


In a very genteel lodging-house, in the very genteel neighborhood of
Russell Square, early in the afternoon of a September day, a young
girl stands impatiently awaiting the return of Sir Victor Catheron.
This girl is his wife.