“I made no charge against her at the time; indeed, I think the shock of the discovery deprived me for a time of my reason, and I remember nothing definitely until I recovered to find myself in a prison cell, branded as a felon, and doomed to years of confinement.
“When at last, after five years’ imprisonment, the full realization of my position was brought home to me, I swore a bitter and terrible oath of vengeance on the woman who had dragged me down to the lowest depths of degradation, on her and her offspring forever.
“I was allowed a limited communication with friends in the outside world, who had known and respected me in the days of my prosperity, and from them I learned that Evelyn, who had succeeded in obtaining a divorce from me, had married a retired merchant named Oscar Hilton, and was living the luxurious life of which she had been always so fond.
“From these friends, also, I learned that she had given birth, some two months previous to her marriage with Hilton, to a female child, to whom, after her usual romantic notions, she had given the name of Cleopatra’s handmaiden, Iris.
“I believed at the time, as I believe now, that you, Iris, are my child as surely as you are Evelyn Hilton’s, and I claim an equal right to your obedience.
“I have no love for you, I must tell you frankly; you are too much like the woman who has cursed my life, and made me the reckless wretch I am to-day. You are beautiful as a siren, with the fatal beauty that lured me to destruction, and I have resolved that you shall never betray a good man’s trust as your mother betrayed mine.
“You are my child, Iris Trisilian, and you shall stay with me and do my bidding; nay, it is useless for you to glance so significantly toward the door—as well might a bird hope to escape the toils of a charmer, as you expect to leave my care.”
The man who had called himself Charles Broughton took forcible possession of the girl’s hands now, and attempted to seat her in the chair near which she stood; but at this moment the sound of low knocking on the door interrupted him.
Something in the expression of her face half frightened Charles Broughton, and grasping her arm almost rudely, he whispered:
“Do not contradict anything I say, no matter how far I may depart from the truth. Do not dare to carry out the defiance your looks express, if you would not have me brand you as the daughter of a felon—and not only the child of a forger, but of an escaped convict. Say one word to betray me, and the proud aristocrat who has declared his love for you—the haughty Chester St. John, who is so proud of his spotless reputation and ancient lineage—shall know you as the offspring of Carleton Tresilian. Ah, I think that was some one knocking on the door—come in!” And Charles Broughton threw himself negligently into a chair at some distance from Iris, who was sitting now with her head thrown back among the cushions of an easy-chair, her hands locked tightly together in her lap, and those terrible words to which she had listened a moment before repeating themselves over and over again in her tortured brain—“the child of an escaped convict.”