"I—I—that is, mother, Jack knows the truth," faltered the girl.
"The truth?" repeated Mrs. Ruthven slowly.
"Yes, Marion has told me the truth," said Jack, in as steady a voice as he could command. "And so I—I—am not your son." He could scarcely speak the words.
"Oh, Jack!" The lady caught him in her arms. "So you know the truth at last?" She kissed him. "But you are my son, just as if you were my own flesh and blood. You are not angry at me for keeping this a secret so long? I did it because I did not wish to hurt your feelings."
"No, I am not angry at you, Mrs. Ruth——"
"Call me mother, Jack."
"I am not angry, mother. You have been very kind to me. But it is so strange! I can't understand it all," and he heaved a deep sigh.
"You have been a son to me in the past, Jack; I wish you to continue to be one."
"But I have no real claim upon you."
"Yes, you have, for my late husband and myself adopted you."