"Ah! believe me, master, I did what I could. I was in London then.... I
flew to Canterbury where my mother lived.... I found her dead ... and
the boys gone ... none of the neighbors could tell me whither.... All
they knew was that a woman had been living with my mother of late and
had gone away, taking the boys with her.... My boys, master, and no one
could tell me whither they had gone! I spent what money I had, and Sir
Marmaduke nobly bore his share in the cost of a ceaseless search, as the
Earl of Northallerton would do nothing then to help me."

"Passing strange ... passing sad," murmured Master Skyffington, shaking
his head, "but methinks I recollect ... hem ... some six years ago ... a
quest which led to a clew ... er ... that is ... two young gentlemen
..."

"Impostors, master," she rejoined, "aye! I have heard of many such since
then. At first I used to believe their stories ..."

"At first?" he ejaculated in amazement, "but surely ... hem ... the
faces ... your own sons, ma'am ..."

"Ah! the faces!" she said, whilst a blush of embarrassment, even of
shame, now suffused her pale cheeks. "I mean ... you understand ... I
... I had not seen my boys since they were babes in arms ... they were
ten years old when they were taken away ... but ... but it is nigh on
twenty-two years since I have set eyes on their faces. I would not know
them, if they passed me by."

Tears choked her voice. Shame had added its bitter sting to the agony of
her sorrow. Of a truth it was a terrible epilogue of misery, following
on a life-story of frivolity and of heartlessness which Mistress de
Chavasse had almost unconsciously related to the poor ignorant country
attorney. Desirous at all costs of retaining her freedom, she had parted
from her children with a light heart, glad enough that their
grandmother was willing to relieve her of all responsibility. Time
slipped by whilst she enjoyed herself, danced and flirted, gambled and
played her part in that world of sport and Fashion wherein a mother's
heart was an unnecessary commodity. Ten years are a long while in the
life of an old woman who lives in a remote country town, and sees Death
approaching with slow yet certain stride; but that same decade is but as
a fleeting hour to the woman who is young and who lives for the moment.

The boys had been forgotten long ere they disappeared! Forgotten?
perhaps not!--but their memory put away in a hidden cell of the mind
where other incon