294 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE . 
curiously direct in ordinary life. Instead of 
sitting by her he now changed his seat, and 
sat right opposite her, and said, “ Miss 
Stewart, do you mind looking at me straight ?’’ 
With some surprise she did so. 
“ You don’t know why I asked that/’ said 
Nugent, “ but 1 think, somehow, that you 
know more than my name. Have we ever 
met before, many, many years ago ? ” 
She could not speak, but nodded. 
“ Ah,” said Nugent, “ I thought so.” 
Nevertheless, his memory was much at 
fault. There was a deep impression in him 
somewhere ; if he could only get the clue he 
might draw it out. 
“ Did you and your mother ever live near 
Gloucester ? ” he asked. 
And again she nodded, and this time she 
smiled. 
u Ah,” said Nugent, “I spoke to Mr. 
Chisholm after you had left the court, and he 
said as much as that himself. You know, he, 
too, comes from the same neighbourhood.” 
“ I didn’t know that,” said Nina. 
“ I think he knew your mother,” said 
Nugent. And still he struggled to remember 
the mother of this strange child. 
“ I will tell you,” said Nina. 
But lie lifted his hand. 
“ Stop one minute,” he said. “ T should* 
like to remember without help. I believe 
it’s coming back to me.” 
There was some scene in his mind like an 
undeveloped photograph ; but now it was 
like a photographic plate in the developing 
medium. He began to see shadows and 
lights. And suddenly he spoke. 
“ There was a cottage not far from my 
father’s house,” he said. “ I don’t remember 
its name, but some people lived there — I 
wonder if they were called Stewart ? And 
they had a little girl. She was something 
like you, Miss Stewart, though then she could 
not have been twelve. Indeed, she may 
have been much younger than that. But 
she came one day to our house — oh, yes, I 
remember — and 1 was a boy, a young man, 
if you will, of twenty, or, perhaps, nineteen, 
very hard and full of himself. But the 
little girl liked him. I wonder if I am 
right ? ” 
“ Yes,” said Nina. 
li She thought him a nice boy,” said 
Nugent, smiling. “ I remember she told my 
mother he was a nice boy.” 
“ I remember, too,” said Nina. 
“ Was there nothing else ? ” he asked. 
“ Did you say nothing else to her ? ” 
C( I don’t remember,” said the girl. 
“ Ah, 1 remember,” said Nugent, smiling 
“ I remember now very well. It’s strange- 
how these things come back to one. Slien 
sat with me a long time in the library, and! 
talked to me about her pets, and the garden. 
I remember everything. Yes- her name was 
Nina Stewart. She followed me about the i 
whole afternoon, and made me show her the 
horses, and the dogs, and the fowls. Well. 
1 suppose I behaved all right, because she 
told my mother I was a nice boy, and I 
said ” 
“ What did I say ? ” asked Nina. 
“ T wonder whether I can tell you ? ” said 
Nugent. 
“ Please do,” said the girl. 
£< She said, 1 Oh, Mrs. Nugent, 1 think your 
son Mark is a very nice boy, and if I ever 
marry I think I'll marry him.’ ” 
He knew he was playing with fire, but he 
had never seen anyone who affected him so 
much, in spite of everything. His own 
restraint with regard to women had been 
largely founded on a certain reaction within 
him against the dominant and predominant 
type of the young woman of the day. He 
found them mostly hard and self-sufficient. 
Whatever her weaknesses this was a sweet 
and dear child, kindly, affectionate, and most 
divinely and strangely beautiful. Again 
he looked at her, and saw the tears in 
her eyes. 
“ Oh, Mr. Nugent,” she said, “ you see, I 
was a very little girl then, and did not 
understand.” 
“ And now you understand very much,” 
said Nugent. “ You know, at any rate, that 
it is a very hard world. Tell me how you 
came to be so poor.” 
And she told him how it was. Her father, 
it seemed, had never been rich, though he 
had sufficient. He was not a man of the 
world, and had got into the hands of a 
gambler and speculator, who had led him 
into gambling. When things came to a final 
crash her father died, and left her and her 
mother with so little that it was not sufficient 
to live on. They had no relatives, or none 
who could help. They came to London and 
lived in ever-increasing poverty, because her 
mother needed what she could not get 
without sacrifice of the very little capital 
that remained to them. 
“ And my mother is ill,” said Nina, now 
without tears ; “ very ill. 1 don’t think she 
will live long -and I can’t give her what she 
should have.” 
“ Perhaps you will let me help you if it is 
possible,” said Mark Nugent. 
