now--my boy--and yours? You didn't know
him then! Is it likely? Don't lie about it--if you didn't know him,
_why_ didn't you? Were you so busy looking at your own picture on the
wall--so wrapped up in your own ambitions, that you couldn't see
anything else? Couldn't you see your own flesh and blood--and mine?
What's twenty years? Haven't I lived them, and wouldn't I know
him--didn't I--when I saw him? You Judas!"

Motionless, she stood looking at the speechless man before her, until
she felt the closer drawing to her of the tall young beauty at her side.

"And you're Anne?" she said, turning to the girl, her own large dark
eyes now soft. "I know. He loves you, Don. Has he said good-by to you?
Has he said he wasn't worthy of you, because he had--no father? _This_
is his father--Don's father--Judge William Henderson. He'll not deny it.
I told Don he mustn't think of you--of all women in the world--just
because you are so close to Judge Henderson--Don's father.

"Now you see why I told my boy that lie--I didn't want him ever to know
his father--yes, I'd told him his father was dead. And I don't want to
seem a worse liar to my own boy--I've been bad enough, the way it is."

She felt Anne Oglesby's arm draw her closer yet, felt the soft warm body
of the girl against her own.

"I make only trouble," said Aurora, murmuring. "And you--you're so
beautiful. I don't blame him."

"I love him, too!" said Anne Oglesby steadily. "I'm not going to give
him up."

Aurora Lane's tears came then.

"You--you two women--" gasped Judge Henderson--"do you know what you're
doing here? Do you think I don't suffer, too?" Then Anne saw that every
accusation Aurora Lane had made was true and more than true.

"About that trial yesterday"--he turned to Aurora--"I _did_ have some
sort of superstitious feeling--I own that--I couldn't account for it--I
couldn't explain it. But you had assured me that your--our--er--the
child--had died in infancy. I thought--I hoped it was only my own guilty
conscience making me see things. I--I _have_ had a conscience. But I
knew nothing--we'd not met for years."

"That's all true," said Aurora to Anne, nodding toward Judge Henderson.
"I've scarce spoken more than twenty words to him in twenty years. I've
kept the secret, and carried the blame. Until yesterday Don never knew
about himself--about his having no father. He hasn't a guess even now
who his father was--or is--at least he'll never make the right gu