“And that enabled them to keep up the fiction of being my parents,” said the girl, thoughtfully. “I want to go right back and see them. The others are only dream parents. Yet, I should like, oh, how I should like, to have one glimpse of my real, my very own mother. It seems to me that she is standing by me every night when I go to sleep. I never, never thought of this explanation of myself and my affairs.”
Captain Fordyce threw her a pitying glance.
“How you must have laughed when I suggested that I was an heiress,” said the girl, vehemently, “how you must have laughed! Didn’t you now?”
“I did do some snickering,” he admitted, reluctantly.
“It was always so in books,” said Nina, warmly, “always money at stake when there was a mystery; but in this case mystery was a precaution. You didn’t want my father to know where I was.”
“And he set spies to watch you, but you were equal to them, and he couldn’t find out whether you had me in England or America.”
Her husband muttered an unintelligible response.
“And when he sent you news of his death, you were so sure it was a trick preparatory to his making a desperate effort to obtain possession of me, that you decided to marry me?”
“Yes, I married you,” he said, shortly; “don’t talk about him.”
“How much did you tell Lady Forrest about me?”
“Only that you had an undesirable relative in England whom I did not wish you to meet.”
“Would he have kidnapped me?” she inquired, in an awestruck voice.
“But he is related to me,--that man,” she said, passionately. “You must look out for him. I dare say he would like some money.”
“He will gamble away precious few of my hard-earned shillings.”
“In that case we will look after him. You need not fear that I shall forget the relationship he bears to you. While he is in health he is able to look out for himself.”
“What does he do for a living?” asked Nina, with a shudder. “That is one thing you did not tell me the other day.”
Her husband hesitated, then said, unwillingly: “He is a jack-of-all-trades. His forte used to be gambling; but I believe now he hangs about theatres,--he manages to exist.”
“Would he have been unkind to me if I had gone with him?” asked Nina, nervously.
Her husband scowled. “Don’t talk about him,--he is a brute. He cares no more for you than for a dog in the streets. Put him out of your thoughts.”