"Forgive me. I was rude."
"Not at all. My words admitted of just such a meaning as you placed upon them."
"You left her in Chicago, of course."
John looks at her steadily.
"Lady Ruth, it may sound strange to you after what I have said, but my memories of my mother are all confined to the far past, to a period when I was a mere child; but they are none the less previous on that account."
She looks puzzled, as well she may.
"Do you mean she is—dead?"
"Heaven forbid, but I have not seen her in all these years. That is one reason I am abroad, Lady Ruth. I have a sacred mission to perform—to find my mother—to seek the solution of a mystery which has embittered my life. Perhaps some time, if we know each other a little better, I may confide a strange and sad story to you."
"Just as you please, doctor," she replies, with deep feeling in her voice, and at this moment the others bustle in.
"You must show yourself on the balcony. The dear people clamor for a sight of you, and I am really afraid they'll tear the house down soon if you don't appear before them," says Aunt Gwen, with unusual vigor.