In a flash, the truth came to him—this little one was Ida May's child.
He now recalled the appealing letters she had written to him at the hotel after he had deserted her. He had never answered them, for by that time he was trying to win the beautiful heiress, Florence St. John. He had told Ida May that his marriage to her was not legal, while in truth it was as binding as Church and State could make it.
He had cast all upon the throw of a dice, and it would never do for the poor young girl whom he had married to come between him and the young girl whom he was about to win.
He had resolved upon a desperate scheme to gain a fortune, by deluding the young girl whom he had made his wife into believing that she was not such, and going through the ceremony with the heiress, Florence St. John.
But Fate had snatched the beautiful Florence St. John from his grasp just as he was about to wed her. Her brother came on the scene, and Royal Ainsley beat a hasty retreat, as he had commenced to inquire into his antecedents.
All these thoughts flashed through his brain in an instant. Then he realized that Mrs. Lester was speaking to him.
"A pretty baby, is she not?" said the woman, holding the infant toward him. "But we have decided not to keep her, after all. I am going to take the first train to New York, and return the baby to the foundling asylum, though Heaven knows I shall miss her sorely. We are too poor to keep her."
Royal Ainsley turned toward her with strange eagerness.
"What do you say if I take your charge off your hands?" he asked, huskily.