There was a violent break in the force of his feeling--then creeping blankness.
"What--was it--you said ?" he asked, in a kind of dull wonder.
"I am his daughter." "Oldring's daughter ?" queried Venters, with life gathering in his voice.
"Yes." With a passionately awakening start he grasped her hands and drew her close.
"All the time--you've been Oldring's daughter ?" "Yes, of course all the time--always." "But Bess, you told me--you let me think--I made out you were--a--so--so ashamed." "It is my shame," she said, with voice deep and full, and now the scarlet fired her cheek.

"I told you--I'm nothing--nameless--just Bess, Oldring's girl!" "I know--I remember.

But I never thought--" he went on, hurriedly, huskily.

"That time--when you lay dying--you prayed--you--somehow I got the idea you were bad." "Bad ?" she asked, with a little laugh.
She looked up with a faint smile of bewilderment and the absolute unconsciousness of a child.

Venters gasped in the gathering might of the truth.