The face of Captain W. at this moment appeared inflamed and swollen, and he became uneasy and quite delirious—and all his symptoms were aggravated. Early this morning Dr. F. pronounced the new disease to be the small-pox. Of course, I have been exposed, and I shall now remain in the house, and while I am able, shall attend upon the Captain. Let no one else be exposed to the contagion. But, dear mother, what is this which I have heard? I know that you once resided in New York. I have seen in your desk, whither you had sent me, letters addressed to you in a name different from that which we both have. I saw also, in the same place, but never ventured to mention the discovery to you, a miniature which much resembled Capt. Wilkinson. What am I to think? Is this your husband—are you the woman whom he deceived—if so, who and what am _I_? Certainly I cannot be _his_ child. Let me know—let me know all; but whatever else happen, oh, dear, dear mother, let me not lose the title of your affectionate _daughter_. AMELIA. The next day Amelia received a note from her mother. It was short and written under great agitation. MY DEAR CHILD,—The information which your letter conveyed has sent me to my bed. You are exposed to the contagion of the small-pox; may God protect you! I cannot doubt that Capt. Wilkinson is the person whom you suppose him to be, if so, he is indeed your father. Be kindly attentive to him, and pray for Your affectionate mother, AMELIA BERTRAND. The information which this note conveyed struck Amelia with painful surprise; if Capt. Wilkinson was, indeed, the man to whom her mother had been married—and there seemed to be no reason to doubt it—how could he be _her_ father? The poor girl sat wrapt in doubt and perplexity. If he was her father, she knew the duty which she owed to him—and she blessed God that at any risk she had been allowed to minister to his physical comforts, and, as she had reason to believe, to his spiritual aid; and she would renew her devotion to him. But what could she say of her mother’s conduct—her pure-hearted, her saintly mother? Is there shame on her name, too? Amelia arose up with firmness, and as she passed to the sick-chamber of her father, she said to herself, “I never knew her to say or do aught unbecoming a Christian lady; should not nearly twenty years experience teach me to trust to her purity and truth, rather than yield to doubt, which unexplained circumstances suggest. I will have faith in _her_ who has never deceived nor has ever distrusted me. _Misfortunes_ are around us—but may God shield us from _shame_!”