Still keeping his hand so, partly screening his face, Mr. Sandford began to speak in a low clear distinct voice, without inflections or emphasis—a voice that seemed hardly to belong to him.
"Anne, I have wronged you most. I must speak to you, and the others must hear.
"You have sometimes, in old days ... you used often to ask me who my father's first wife was—you remember? Who my mother was?"
"I remember."
"My father, our father, was only married once, Anne, and your mother was the only wife he ever had."
There was a breathless silence—Mrs. Dorriman not fully understanding the purport of his words.
"Therefore," continued Mr. Sandford in a hard tone, speaking almost as one under the influence of some powerful narcotic, "I have no rights, no name. I am not the heir, I never was the master of Sandford!"
"But you are my father's son?" exclaimed Mrs. Dorriman in a tone of intense suspense.
"I am—but, Anne, I am his nameless son. He never married my mother. Now do you understand?"
Mrs. Dorriman turned to Mr. Stevens, her face pale, she was trembling. She was evidently intensely surprised. He took her hand in his and spoke to her, in a low voice, reassuring words.