" Her wistful
smile was very tender.
"Perhaps."
They walked together slowly across the valley.
"It is nearly six months since I have seen you."
"Five months and twenty-seven days." The words had slipped out
almost without her volition. She hurried on, ashamed, the color
flying in her cheeks, "I remember because it was the day we ran
down your cousin and that old gentleman. It has always been a
great comfort to me to know that he was not seriously injured."
"No. It was only the shock of his fall."
"What was his name? I don't think I heard it."
There was just an instant's silence before he pronounced,
"Farnum--Mr. Robert Farnum."
"A relative of yours?"
"Yes."
Across her brain there flashed a fugitive memory of three words
Jeff had spoken to his cousin the day of the accident. "It's your
father."
But how could that be? She had always understood that both the
parents of James were dead. The lawyer had denied knowing the man
whose life he had saved. And yet she had been sure of the words
and of a furtive, frightened look on the face of James. According
to the story of the _Herald_ the father of Jefferson, a former
convict, was named Robert.
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