I will not say what he called me in his surprise and delight. It seemed to me quite uncalled for; I had only done what my conscience told me was just. But as for accepting my offer--he would not hear of it twice. "Darling, it would be wrong. It would be downright robbery; and no plea whatever for it, on the score of paternal duty. You are the proper heir, the child of the elder son, the true representative of our ancient family. All the rest is a quibble and quirk, of which, even without your countless benefits, I never intended to take advantage. And my children are, by the mother’s side, of a family older even than ours--so far as that nonsense goes--and are heirs to wealth compared to which--if it only be rightly worked--these Vaughan estates are nothing. All I ask you is to do a thing which I am sure you would do without asking--to assist them, if what I have left them is spent before they prove their claims. Here is a letter to Count Gaffori; that excellent man is still alive; and here are the certificates, and my own brief deposition, which I have begged a neighbouring magistrate to come to-day and attest; here is my Lily’s Spalla, and perhaps other relics are in my son’s possession. Lastly, here are two more letters, one to my old friend Peter Green, who has now much influence in that part of Corsica, the other to James McGregor, once my messmate at Lincoln’s Inn, now an acute and rising Counsel, and a leading authority upon municipal law. Take all these, my darling, if you will so far oblige me; for I fear my lovely daughter--isn’t she lovely, Clara?" "The loveliest girl in all the world; and what is far more important, the sweetest, and the best." "Yes, if you had searched the kingdom, you could not have brought me such another love. But ah! you should have seen her mother! However, I fear the sweet pet is a little careless and random, as her father used to be. At any rate, I prefer entrusting this great budget to your brave and honest hands; at least until my son comes here to claim it. The deposition you shall have, when attested." "But, Uncle, surely you had better keep it all yourself. No fear of Mrs. Daldy now." "No, my darling; but these things must not be buried with me." There was something in his eyes which made me start with terror. But he smiled so sweetly that my terror fled. "And now, my child, about yourself. Though you have found me another daughter, I look upon you as the eldest; and I venture to speak to you, as a father would. Is it as my Lily tells me? Is it true--God grant it may be--that you love my son, my Lily’s son, Henry Conrad? Why don’t you answer me, darling? Tell the truth like a real Vaughan. Surely you are not ashamed of him." And he laid his hand on my head. My tears fell fast; and my heart was in a tempest.