"It"s just as well"--and Lord Blythe took one or two restless paces up and down the little room--"I would rather talk to you alone first.
Yes!--that portrait of Pierce must have been taken in early days--just about the time he ran away with Maude Osborne--"
Miss Leigh gazed at him enquiringly.
"With Maude Osborne?"
"Yes--with Maude Osborne, who afterwards became my wife."
Miss Leigh trembled and drew back, looking about her in a dazed way as though seeking for some place to hide in. Lord Blythe saw her agitation.
"I"m afraid I"m worrying you!" he said, kindly. "Sit down, please,"--and he placed a chair for her. "We are both elderly folk and shocks are not good for us. There!"--and he took her hand and patted it gently--"As I was saying, that portrait must have been taken about then--did he give it to you?"
"Yes," she answered, faintly--"He did. We were engaged--"
"Engaged! Good G.o.d! You?--to Pierce?--My dear lady, forgive me!--I"m very sorry!--I had no idea--"
But Miss Leigh composed herself very quickly.
"Please do not mind me!" she said--"It all happened so very long ago!
Yes--Pierce Armitage and I were engaged--but he suddenly went away--and I was told he had gone with some very beautiful girl he had fallen head over ears in love with--and I never saw him again. But I never reproached him--I--I loved him too well!"
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 pa.s.sage--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, G.o.dmother"--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 pa.s.sively 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!"
She was silent--standing inert as though she had received a numbing blow. Miss Leigh rose and came tremblingly towards her.
"My dear, my dear!" she exclaimed--"I wish I had known it all before!--I might have done more--I might have tried to be kinder--"
The girl sprang to her side and impulsively embraced her.
"You would have tried in vain!" she said, fondly, "No one on earth could have been kinder than my beloved little G.o.dmother! You have been the dearest and best of friends!"
Then she turned towards Lord Blythe.
"It is very good of you to come here and say what you have said"--and she spoke in soft, almost pathetic accents--"But I am sorry that anyone knows my story--it is no use to know it, really! I should have always kept it a secret--for it chiefly concerns me, after all,--and why should my existence cast a shadow on the memory of my father? Perhaps you may have known him--"
"I knew him and loved him!" said Lord Blythe, quickly.
She looked at him with wistful, tear-wet eyes.
"Well then, how hard it must be for you to think that he ever did anything unworthy of himself!" she said--"And for this dear lady it is cruel!--for she loved him too. And what am I that I should cause all this trouble! I am a nameless creature--I took his name because I wanted to kindle a little light of my own round it--I have done that!
And then I wanted to guard his memory from any whisper of scandal--will you help me in this? The secret must still be kept--and no one must ever know I am his daughter. For though your wife is dead her name must not be shamed for the long ago sin of her youth--nor must I be branded as what I am--base-born."
Profoundly touched by the simple straightforward eloquence of her appeal, Lord Blythe went up to her where she stood with one arm round Miss Leigh.
"My dear child," he said, earnestly--"believe me, I shall never speak of your parentage or give the slightest hint to anyone of the true facts of your history--still less would I allow you to be lightly esteemed for what is no fault of your own. You have made a brilliant name and fame for yourself--you have the right to that name and fame. I came here to-day for two reasons--one to tell you that I was fully acquainted with all you had endured and suffered--the other to ask if you will let me be your guardian--your other father--and give me some right to shelter you from the rough ways of the world. I may perhaps in this way make some amends to you for the loss of mother-love and father-love--I would do my best--"
He stopped--a little troubled by unusual emotion. Innocent, drawing her embracing arm away from Miss Leigh, looked at him with wondering, grateful eyes.
"How good you are!" she said, softly--"You would take care of me--you with your proud name and place!--and I--the poor, unfortunately born child of your dead friend! Ah, you kind, gentle heart!--I thank you!--but no!--I must not accept such a sacrifice on your part--"
"It would be no sacrifice"--he interrupted her, eagerly--"No, child!--it would be pure selfishness!--for I"m getting old and am lonely--and--and I want someone to look after me!" He laughed a little awkwardly. "Why not come to me and be my daughter?"
She smiled--caught his hand and kissed it.