“I do--I do,” groaned Ralph. “It is all the more necessary, then, that you should listen. My real name is not that one by which I have, been known at Mirk. It is not Derrick, but Gavestone: the same name, good wench, by which your mistress went before she was married to Sir Robert Lisgard. But that was not her maiden name--no, no. Do you not wonder while I tell you this? or did I speak of it last night, when I was mad with drink and rage?” “You said something of the sort, sir; but I knew it all before that. You are my Lady's husband, and Sir Richard and the rest are all her bastard children--that is, in the eye of the law.” “You knew it, did you?” returned Ralph after a pause. “You were in the plot with her against me, then? I am glad of that. I should be sorry to have left the world fooled to the last; for I thought that you at least were an honest wench, although all the world else were liars. So, after all, you knew it, did you? Well, at all events, it is news to the doctor here.” “No, sir,” returned the old gentleman, quietly applying some _Eau de Cologne_ and water to the patient's brow; “I must confess I knew it also.” “And yet you told nobody!” ejaculated Ralph. “You suffered this imposture to go on unexposed!” “I only heard of the facts, you speak of--from Lady Lisgard's own lips--two days ago at furthest,” returned Dr Haldane; “and I certainly told nobody, since the telling could do no good to any human being--not even to yourself, for instance--and would bring utter ruin and disgrace upon several worthy persons.” “Ha, ha!” chuckled the patient hoarsely; “you are right, there. Disgrace upon that insolent Sir Richard, and on that ungrateful puppy, Master Walter.” “True,” continued the doctor gravely; “and upon Miss Letty, who is dear to all who know her, but dearest to the poor and friendless.” “I am sorry for her,” said Derrick; “but I am not sorry for my Lady--she that could look me in the face, and hear me tell the story of our early love, and of her own supposed death, to avert which I so gladly risked my life, and all without a touch of pity.” “No, sir, with much pity,” broke forth Mistress Forest. “I myself know that her heart bled for you. She never loved Sir Robert as she did you, ungrateful man! She loved you dead and alive; she loves you now, although you pursue her with such cruel hate, and would bring shame upon all her innocent children.” “Ay, why not?” answered Ralph. “Have they not had their day, and is it not my turn at last? Who is the woman behind the curtains? Let her stand forth, that I may see her; she, at least, is not a creature of 'my Lady,' like you and the doctor here, and ready, for her sake, to hide the truth and perpetuate my wrongs. Let that woman stand forth, I say.” CHAPTER XIII. DYING WORDS.