"Yes, Uncle," at last I answered, frightened for his suspense, and looking him full in the face, "Yes, Uncle, I do--I mean at least I did--love him very much at one time." "With all your heart, as we Vaughans love; with all your heart, poor darling?" "Yes, Uncle," I sobbed, in bitter humiliation; "none of my heart is left me." "Thank God! what blest news for his mother! My Harry is the happiest fellow alive." "But, Uncle, he does not think so, he--he--doesn’t perceive his blessedness." A flash of my old self-irony came even through my anguish. "Oh, I have heard all that. But surely you know the absurd mistake he made." "Indeed, I cannot guess it. Is it my place to do that?" "Of course it is; when you are in the light, and he is all in the dark. Whom did that kidnapper believe himself to have murdered?" "You, Uncle, of course." "And whose child then does he suppose you to be; if he heard of your existence, as he is sure to have done?" "Merciful God, I see it all! And how bitterly I have wronged him, my own noble Conrad!" My poor weak Uncle had to manage me, all by himself, in my terrible hysterics. Frightened as he was, for he never before had to deal in that way with a nature resembling mine, he would not even ring for help, lest I should betray my secret to other ears than his own. When at last I came to myself, he kissed me tenderly, and said: "My poor dear child, remember--when you may be glad to think of it--that whether I see my noble boy or not, I shall die now in perfect happiness. Noble he must be, or Clara could not love him. It would have been the pet scheme of my heart, if I could have had a voice in it. And here it is done without me! How often have I longed and yearned that he could only see you, as you waited day and night by my pestilential bed, that he could only know the tale of your troubles and devotion. At my death, the generation so visited from heaven expires; and you three darlings start anew, with all things in your favour. Now mind that the good old Signor’s directions are complied with, and that Harry, if he lives here, abandons the Corsican property to his sister Lily. Promise me this, my Clara." "Of course I will, dear Uncle--I mean, so far as my influence goes. And he will then be bound to do so under the deed-poll, if I understood you aright. But perhaps he has quite forgotten me now." "Of course he thinks himself bound to avoid you. But I have written to set him right, and to bring him as soon as possible. And now about--about that horrible--" "Ah, yes. If I had the right, I would even let him go. My feeling has changed from fierce hatred to utter contempt. And surely his vengeance is satisfied now." "No, Clara. It will flame more wildly than ever the moment he learns his mistake, and my final triumph over him. Has he any idea where our Lily is?"