"Exactly. And now the father is dead, Walter Vane stands in your shoes. I wish you could prove the marriage, my boy," said Ireland, shaking his head, "but it will be a difficult task."
"I don't care how difficult it is," replied Brendon, resolutely. "I am determined to learn the truth."
"Who is the lady?" asked Ireland.
"Miss Dorothy Ward. You don't know anything of her."
Ireland shook his head. "I left the adoration of the aristocracy to Lockwood," he said, with something like a sneer, "but that's neither here nor there, my boy. To make a long story short, I met your mother in Paris, and shortly afterward she died, giving birth to you. Eliza Stokes was with her when she died, and you were given into the charge of that woman. Your mother was buried in Père la Chaise. Vane put up a stone to her--oh! he behaved very well, I don't deny that," added Ireland, but with a dark face; "he was really fond of her. And I suppose there was a marriage."
"Did my mother ever say anything about it?"
"Never. You asked me that before. It was an accepted fact. After the death of Rosina her husband went to Italy. I was there, too, and it was at Milan that the episode occurred which led to the dismissal of Eliza Stokes."
"What was that?"
"Why, there was a young English waiter, quite a boy he was, who fell in love with Eliza when she was taking charge of you at the Hôtel de Ville. She refused to marry him and hinted that she loved your father. Vane heard of this and taxed her with impertinence. The end of it was that Eliza said too much and was dismissed. And Jane Fraser was sent from England by Vane's mother to nurse you. That looks as though Lady Derrington believed in the marriage."
"It does," admitted Brendon, hopefully. "She would not have sent a nurse had anything been wrong. On the other hand, if she had been quite certain about the marriage she might have offered to take charge of me."