ently with my duty to the young man's father; knowing what
I knew, and not forgetting that I had myself advised Mr. Gracedieu
to keep the truth concealed, when I was equally ignorant of Philip
Dunboyne's parentage and of Helena Gracedieu's treachery?

Even if events so ordered it that the marriage of Eunice might yet take
place--without any interference exerted to produce that result, one way
or the other, on my part--it would be just as impossible for me to speak
out now, as it had been in the long-past years when I had so cautiously
answered Mr. Dunboyne's letter. But what would he think of me if
accident led, sooner or later, to the disclosure which I had felt bound
to conceal? The more I tried to forecast the chances of the future, the
darker and the darker was the view that faced me.

To my sinking heart and wearied mind, good Dame Nature presented a more
acceptable prospect, when I happened to look out of the window of my
room. There I saw the trees and flowerbeds of a garden, tempting me
irresistibly under the cloudless sunshine of a fine day. I was on my way
out, to recover heart and hope, when a knock at the door stopped me.

Had Miss Jillgall returned? When I said "Come in," Mr. Gracedieu opened
the door, and entered the room.

He was so weak that he staggered as he approached me. Leading him to
a chair, I noticed a wild look in his eyes, and a flush on his haggard
cheeks. Something had happened.

"When you were with me in my room," he began, "did I not tell you that I
had forgotten something?"

"Certainly you did."

"Well, I have found the lost remembrance. My misfortune--I ought to call
it the punishment for my sins, is recalled to me now. The worst curse
that can fall on a father is the curse that has come to me. I have a
wicked daughter. My own child, sir! my own child!"

Had he been awake, while Miss Jillgall and I had been talking outside
his door? Had he heard her ask me if Mr. Gracedieu had said nothing
of Helena's infamous conduct to her sister, while he was speaking of
Eunice? The way to the lost remembrance had perhaps been found there.
In any case, after that bitter allusion to his "wicked daughter" some
result must follow. Helena Gracedieu and a day of reckoning might be
nearer to each other already than I had ventured to hope.

I waited anxiously for what he might say to me next.

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE WANDERING MIND.

For the moment, the Minister disappointed me.

Without speaking