Many moments passed in entire silence. At last, starting as if from deep reflection, “Calantha” she said, “I know your heart too well to doubt its kindness:—the presence of this child, will cause the misery of your father.” “Of my father!” “Do you not guess wherefore? I read his feelings yesterday: and can you my child be less quick in penetrating the sentiments of those you love? do you not perceive that Zerbellini is of the very age and size—your lost—and—lamented brother would have been? ... and certainly not unlike the duchess.” She hesitated—paused—recovered herself. “I would not for the world have you suggest this to a human being. I would not appear to have said—what you, out of an affectionate regard might—should—have considered.”—“I am astonished: you quite amaze me,” replied Calantha; yet she too well guessed her feelings. You heard your father yesterday say, how necessary it was for him to attend the general meeting at Belfast: he flies us to avoid this boy—the likeness—in short, oblige me, place him at the garden cottage, or at the Rector of Belfont’s—he will attend to him. I am told you mean to leave your children with Mr. Challoner: if so, he might likewise keep this boy. His strong resemblance—his age—his manner—have given me already the acutest pain.—My brother will never demand any sacrifice of you;—but I, Lady Avondale,—I solicit it.—“Shall I be refused”? “Dearest aunt, can you ask this? Zerbellini shall be immediately sent from the castle.” “Oh no: such precipitate removal would excite curiosity.” “Well then, allow me to place him, as you say, under the care of the Rector of Belfont and his wife—or—” “But how strange—why—did you never observe this before?” “Calantha,” said Lady Margaret, in a hollow tone, “it is the common talk: every one observes it: every eye fixes itself upon him, and seems to—to—to—reproach—to-morrow—morn—to-morrow morning, I must quit this place—business of importance calls me away—I hope to see you shortly: I shall return as soon as possible—perhaps I shall not go.—The trifle I now suggest, is solely for my brother’s sake.—If you mention one word of this to any one, the sacrifice I ask will lose its value. Above all, if the Count Gondimar is made a confidant.” “Fear not: I shall request as of myself, that Zerbellini may be placed with my little son: but you cannot think how much you surprise me. My father has seen the boy so often; has spoken so frequently with him; has appeared so perfectly at his ease.”