Winnifred, be my bride!" "Oh, sir," sobbed Winnifred, "if the knowledge of a gratitude, a thankfulness from one whose heart will ever treasure as its proudest memory the recollection of one who did for one all that one could have wanted done for one--if this be some poor guerdon, let it suffice.

But, alas, my birth, the dark secret of my birth forbids----" "Nay," cried Mordaunt, leaping now to his feet, "your birth is all right.

I have looked into it myself.

It is as good--or nearly as good--as my own.

Till I knew this, my lips were sealed by duty.