"That picture has been in Jeff's possession since he was a baby. It was the only heritage his mother left him, the photograph and these letters. I have just been reading them. They were written to her. He had deserted her—before Jeff was born——"
Mrs. Rumsen's hand had dropped from Camilla's shoulder, and she turned quickly away—with a sharp catch in her breath. When she spoke, her voice, like Camilla's, was suppressed and controlled with difficulty.
"Then my brother was—your husband's——"
"Oh, I don't know," Camilla broke in quickly. "It is all so dreadful. There may be some mistake. Jeff will never speak of it. He has tried all these years to forget. I don't know why I took these letters out to read. Perhaps it would be better if you hadn't known——"
"No, no. I think I ought to know. Perhaps in justice to my brother——"
"There can be no justice for Jeff's father, Mrs. Rumsen. I have read his letters to her—to Jeff's mother. Before you came in I was trying to think of a punishment horrible enough for the kind of men who deceive women as he did, and then leave them to face the world alone."
"But perhaps there was something you don't know——" she groped vainly.
"Every question you would ask, every excuse that he could offer, is answered in these letters. Now that you know Jeff's story perhaps you had better read them."
With trembling hands she gathered the letters and gave them to her visitor, who now sat in the big armchair near the window, her straight figure almost judicial in its severity. She glanced at the handwriting and at the signature, and then let the papers fall into her lap.
"Yes, they are my brother's," she said slowly. "It is his handwriting—and the name—the General's name is Cornelius Edward—'Ned' was his name at college—he never used his first name until later in life. I—I suppose there's no doubt about it."