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 godmother!  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—­”