A painful struggle had been going on in his mind ever since his meeting with Mrs. Mapleson.
He could not endure, for a moment, the thought of ever having Gladys know anything about her birth. She fully believed herself to be Mr. and Mrs. Huntress’ own child, and he knew it would be a rude shock to her to learn that she was not, and to be told the facts regarding her parentage, and he meant to prevent it if he could.
“Colonel Mapleson,” he said, speaking very seriously, “I hope that Gladys will never learn that she is not really my child; I never wish her to receive anything from Mrs. Mapleson.”
The colonel’s face fell.
He knew that his wife’s heart was yearning after her child; at the same time, he could understand and appreciate Mr. Huntress’ sensitiveness upon the subject; while, too, the young girl could not fail to be painfully shocked upon learning the sad, even cruel, history connected with her birth.
“I think it would be a great disappointment to my wife not to be allowed to claim the relationship,” he replied, thoughtfully.
“I have no doubt of it, sir,” returned Mr. Huntress; “but could she not better bear the disappointment than to have her child made unhappy, after all these years of content, by learning that those who have hitherto occupied the place of father and mother are nothing to her by the ties of blood? She has not a suspicion of the truth, and I am confident that no one, save Doctor Turner and ourselves, has the slightest knowledge of it, so that it never need be revealed. Mrs. Mapleson promised solemnly never to claim her, under any circumstances; she gave her unreservedly to us, and I cannot feel willing to have our relations disturbed. As far as any property which she might inherit from your wife is concerned, I would not give it a moment’s consideration. I have an abundance, and Gladys will have it all by and by. I did intend to make a division between my two children,” turning with a smile to the young man by his side, “but since Geoffrey is now so rich, he will not need it. However, it will amount to about the same thing in the end, as they will soon have all things in common, I trust.”
“Ah! is that so?” Colonel Mapleson inquired, with a brilliant smile and a nod at his son.
“I hope so,” Geoffrey answered; “and I, too, think it would be wiser to keep the truth regarding Gladys’ birth still a secret. Its revelation can do no one, save Mrs. Mapleson, the least possible good, and I doubt if even she would not regret a disclosure that would result in so much unhappiness to others.”
“I believe you are right,” Colonel Mapleson said, after thinking it over for a few moments. “I reckon it would be the better plan to allow things to remain just as they are.”