"But I said that I had to explain,—I guess that I was a little panic-stricken, he seemed so deadly in earnest,—and then I told him that I wasn't Big Jerry's grandchild really, but only a little waif whom he had taken in. 'So, you see, I am a nameless girl, Philip,' I said. 'I don't mean it in a bad sense, for I know that I had a dear father and mother, whom I just barely remember, but....'
"I don't know exactly what I was going to add, but he broke in with, 'What earthly difference do you think that could make to me, dear?' And then he told me that he knew I was ... was good and pure, that any one who was acquainted with me could see that I must have come from sterling stock, even if my parents were simple mountaineers.
"'But they weren't, Phil,' I answered. 'I was a poor little city waif, who had lost her parents and didn't know where she came from, or even her name.' And then I told him the story which Big Jerry told you that first night on the mountain.
"And then, Donald, then it was my turn to be surprised, for Philip grasped my arm until he hurt me, and cried, 'I can't believe it, Rose. I won't believe it!'
"I didn't know what to say, and somehow I felt both hurt and a little angry that it should make any difference in his love—yes, I did, in spite of the fact that I couldn't marry him anyway. Yet, at the same time, I had an impression that it wasn't that, but something quite different, which was troubling his heart. So I said, 'What is it, Philip? I do not understand why you are acting so strangely.'
"His only reply was to ask me, in an odd voice, when it happened; how long ago.
"I told him 'eighteen years, when I was a baby about three years old.' Don, I can't tell you how I felt then, for he looked so peculiar—almost as though he were stunned. And he could not seem to say anything. I was frightened. I begged him to speak to me, and told him that he looked as though he had seen a ghost. 'I have ... at least I have if my suspicion is true. But it can't be; oh, it is unbelievable, impossible,' he broke out.
"I didn't know what to say or do, he looked almost as though he were ... were not in his right mind; and, when I put my hand on his arm and begged him to tell me what the trouble was, he shook it off, and began to speak ... oh, I cannot tell you how. It sounded as though some one else were speaking, and uttering the words hesitatingly.
"'Try and remember, Smiles. Call on your memory of the long ago, if there is a single spark of it still lingering in your mind. Oh, it means so much, dear, so much that I am almost afraid to ask the question, but I have got to, I have got to!'
"He waited until I thought I should go mad, Don, and then said, in little more than a whisper, 'Did you ever, back in your babyhood, hear the name, Anna Rose Young? Think, Smiles, think hard.'