"Mr. Gordon will be here in a half-hour," she said. "Please try to
rest a little before he comes."

She lowered the shades, and my pillows, kissed me gently, and left the
room. But I could neither rest nor sleep. The wildest conjectures went
through my brain. Who was Robert Gordon, and why was he so strangely
interested in me?

XL

MADGE FACES THE PAST AND HEARS A DOOR SOFTLY CLOSE

It seemed a very long time to me, as I tossed on my pillows, beset by
the problem that even the name Robert Gordon always presents to me,
before Lillian came back to my room. But when she entered she said
that Mr. Gordon would soon arrive and that I must be prepared to see
him, so she bathed my hands and face and gave me an egg-nog before
propping me up against my pillows to receive my visitor.

"Of course you will stay with me, Lillian, while he is here," I said.

She smiled enigmatically. "Part of the time," she said.

But when Mr. Gordon came, bringing with him an immense sheaf of roses,
she left the room almost at once, giving as an excuse her wish to
arrange the flowers.

My visitor's eyes were burning with a light that almost frightened me
as he sat down by my bedside and took my hand in his.

"My dear child," he said, and though the words were such as any
elderly man might address to a young woman, yet there was an intensity
in them that made me uncomfortable. "Are you sure everything is all
right with you?"

"Very sure," I replied, smiling. "If Mrs. Underwood would permit me to
do so, I am certain I could get up now."

"You must not think of trying it," he returned sharply, and with a
note in his voice, almost like authority, which puzzled me.

"Thank God for Mrs. Underwood!" he went on. "She is a woman in a
thousand. I am indebted to her for life."

I shrank back among my pillows, and wished that Lillian would return
to the room. I began to wonder if Mr. Gordon's brain was not slightly
turned. Surely, the fact that he had once known and loved my mother
was no excuse for the extravagant attitude he was taking.

He saw the movement, and into his eyes flashed a look so mournful, so
filled with longing that I was thrilled to the heart. The next moment
he threw himself upon his knees by the side of my bed, and cried out
tensely:

"Oh, my darling child, don't shrink from me. You will kill me. Don't
you see? Can't you guess? I am your father!"

My father! Robert Gordon my father!

I looked at the elderly man