wife left him on that very night, and he
has never seen her since; but Sir Geoffrey and I fought on the sands
near Boulogne, and I strove my utmost to kill him. Fortune was against
me, however, and I was wounded. I returned to my home with my thirst for
vengeance unabated. I taught my son to curse the name of Sir Geoffrey
Kynaston, and as soon as I had recovered from my wounds I hunted him all
over Europe. Where he spent those years I cannot tell, but he eluded me.
Often I reached a town only to learn that he had left it but a few days;
once, I remember, at Belgrade, I was only a few hours behind him. But
meet him face to face I could not.

"When at last I saw my son again, I found him grown up, and in his first
words he told me boldly that he had espoused his mother's cause, and
that he withdrew altogether from his vow of vengeance against Sir
Geoffrey Kynaston. I left him in a fury, and almost immediately
afterwards came the unexpected news of my accession to the baronetcy of
Beaumerville. I made up my mind then to turn over the past chapter of my
life, and start the world afresh. I had always been known by the family
name of Martival, and my wife was unaware of my connection with the
Beaumerville family. Taking advantage of this, I sent her false news of
my death at Paris, and started life afresh as Sir Allan Beaumerville.

"The past, however, soon began to cast its shadows into the future. A
new author, calling himself Bernard Maddison, was one night introduced
to me at a crowded assembly. I held out my hand, which he did not take,
and recognized my son."

There was a general start. The first gleam of light struggled into the
minds of the little group of listeners. They began to see whither this
thing was tending, and everyone looked very grave.

"I had nothing to fear," Sir Allan continued. "My son showed by his
looks the contempt in which he held me. We met frequently after that,
but we never exchanged a single word. He kept my secret, too, from his
mother--not for my sake, but for her own.

"Six months after our first meeting Sir Geoffrey Kynaston returned to
England. It may seem strange to you, gentlemen, but my hate for this man
had never lessened, never decreased. The moment I heard the news I began
to lay my plans.

"Then, for the first time, my son sought me. He had come, he said, to
make one request, and if I granted it, he would leave me in peace
forever. Would I tell him that my oath had been buried