She recovered herself, and went on: "Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend--Richard FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible days of fever.

I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men.

His father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such.
We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed to be attentive and kind.

Then came the end.

My father was dying.