"You may marry—change?" she muttered, looking wistfully at her daughter.
"Never!" said Lynn, choking. "You don't understand me, mother. I could never think of marriage while Liol was dependent on me; and, as for change—if that is all, you can die happy."
"Swear," said her mother, faintly.
Lynn hesitated. "I don't like swearing," she returned, reluctantly, "but, if it will make you any happier—I swear by everything in heaven and earth—by God Almighty—by the memory of my father—that I will do exactly as I have said. I will look after Lionel always, always, no matter what it costs me. Now are you satisfied?"
"You won't be hard on him—he is," she winced, "he is—Guido's child. We don't—don't always understand foreigners—women don't always—understand—men. You will remember?—you will think of his heritage—and be merciful? I have always had to be." Her voice dropped and broke in a dry sob.
"If he develops into what your husband is," returned Lynn, quietly, "it will make no difference. You don't understand me, mother. Just as you never left the other one, because you couldn't, because you wouldn't have cared to live away from him; so I—I couldn't desert Liol. I have always loved him; how dearly you have never even guessed. I shall always love him and—and when he leaves his father and goes to a good school and knows only good people"—
"It's in his blood," said his mother, faintly. "Already—already it shows. You—you must make—allowances. Another thing!" she attempted to raise herself in the bed and her eyes shone with a feverish glitter, "another thing, Lynn! No one must know." Her voice grew firmer, her hand more steady. "You remember the conditions—when your uncle"—
"I remember them well. But, dear mother, you don't think Uncle Horace would hold me to them—now?"
"Horace is hard—a hard man. When—if—Liol did take after his father—they would never let you see him—or know him. No. If I am to die in peace you must swear never to tell a living soul that he is your brother. If anyone at all knew—your uncle might find out—oh, Lynn, promise?"
Lynn spoke, slowly. "You have not thought, mother. This secrecy will lead to all sorts of complications. Uncle Horace is a hard man, but he is just. He will grumble and think me a fool, but he can't refuse his consent. At present—for a while—it won't matter, not telling anyone about Liol; but later on—oh, mother, don't ask me to promise that. Let me use my discretion about it, won't you?"