ome out and see you in
person, so as to ask you what it all means, and put an end, in some
way or other, to my suspense."

This recital produced a strong effect on Obed, yet no expression of
his face told whether that effect was favorable or unfavorable.
Earnestly Hilda watched his face as she spoke, so as to read if
possible her fate, yet she found it impossible. His face remained
stolid and impassive, though she saw this much, that he was listening
to her with the deepest attention. What was most perplexing was the
fact that Obed did not say one single word.

In fact, in this position, he did not know what to say. So he did the
very best thing that he could, and said nothing. But the mystery that
had begun that day with the advent of Mrs. Hart was certainly
deepening. It was already unfathomable when Mrs. Hart had said that
Zillah was Lady Chetwynde, and that Windham was Lord Chetwynde. Here,
however, came one who made it still more hopelessly and inextricably
entangled by calmly announcing herself as Lady Chetwynde; and not
only so, but adding to it an account of her life. Which was the true
one? Mrs. Hart could not lie. She did not seem to be insane. About
Zillah there had certainly been a mystery, but she could not deceive.
He began to have vague ideas that Lord Chetwynde's morals had become
affected by his Indian life, and that he had a great number of wives;
but then he remembered that this woman claimed to be General
Pomeroy's daughter, which Mrs. Hart had also said of Zillah. So the
problem was as dark as ever. He began to see that he was incapable of
dealing with this subject, and that Mrs. Hart alone could explain.

Hilda, after some delay, went on:

"I have mentioned my attempt to discover the cipher writing," said
she. "My deciphering was such that it seemed to involve my father in
a very heavy charge. It made me think that he had been guilty of some
awful crime."

"Your father, General Pomeroy?" Obed Chute uttered this suddenly, and
with deep surprise.

Hilda started, and then said, very placidly, "Yes."

"And you thought that he might be guilty of 'awful crimes?'"

"I feared so."

"Had you lived any time with your father?"

"All my life."

Obed Chute said nothing more though Hilda seemed to expect it; so,
finding him silent, she went on without regarding him; though, if she
had known this man, she would have seen that by those words she at
once lost all that sympathy and consideration which