“Yes; Sir William Heath, her brother, presented both carriage and horses to her for her individual use one Christmas,” Rupert explained.
“And what is that device upon the panel of the carriage door?”
“It is the Linton coat of arms.”
“The Linton coat of arms! You seem to know the family well, Mr. Hamilton.”
“And why should I not?” Rupert returned, smiling. “I have made my home with them during the last ten or twelve years. William Heath is my guardian.”
“What?” cried his listener, sharply.
“Have I not told you before?” Rupert asked, looking up in surprise at her tone. “You must pardon me, Mrs. Alexander, for being so negligent; but surely, I thought I had informed you of the fact.”
Mrs. Alexander clutched at the carriage door for support, and for a moment thought she must fall to the ground; two such startling discoveries as she had just made were sufficient to make her heart stand still and her blood run cold, and she scarcely had strength to move.
Rupert Hamilton Sir William Heath’s ward?
It was a strange fate that had decreed that her daughter and his should become the fiancée of the young man he had reared.