“And again, I say, that I have no information to give you--that--Stay a moment--stay. You must pardon what I have said of you before you made yourself known. I went but by the accounts I had received from Mr. Beaufort. Let me speak plainly; that gentleman thought, right or wrong, that it would be a great thing to separate your brother from you. He may have found him--it must be so--and kept his name and condition concealed from us all, lest you should detect it. Mrs. M., don’t you think so?” “I’m sure I’m so terrified I don’t know what to think,” said Mrs. Morton, putting her hand to her forehead, and see-sawing herself to and fro upon her stool. “But since they wronged you--since you--you seem so very--very--” “Very much the gentleman,” suggested Miss Margaret. “Yes, so much the gentleman;--well off, too, I should hope, sir,”--and the experienced eye of Mr. Morton glanced at the costly sables that lined the pelisse,--“there can be no difficulty in your learning from Mr. Beaufort all that you wish to know. And pray, sir, may I ask, did you send any one here to-day to make the very inquiry you have made?” “I?--No. What do you mean?” “Well, well--sit down--there may be something in all this that you may make out better than I can.” And as Philip obeyed, Mr. Morton, who was really and honestly rejoiced to see his sister’s son alive and apparently thriving, proceeded to relate pretty exactly the conversation he had held with the previous visitor. Philip listened earnestly and with attention. Who could this questioner be? Some one who knew his birth--some one who sought him out?--some one, who--Good Heavens! could it be the long-lost witness of the marriage? As soon as that idea struck him, he started from his seat and entreated Morton to accompany him in search of the stranger. “You know not,” he said, in a tone impressed with that energy of will in which lay the talent of his mind,--“you know not of what importance this may be to my prospects--to your sister’s fair name. If it should be the witness returned at last! Who else, of the rank you describe, would be interested in such inquiries? Come!” “What witness?” said Mrs. Morton, fretfully. “You don’t mean to come over us with the old story of the marriage?” “Shall your wife slander your own sister, sir? A marriage there was--God yet will proclaim the right--and the name of Beaufort shall be yet placed on my mother’s gravestone. Come!” “Here are your shoes and umbrella, pa,” cried Miss Margaret, inspired by Philip’s earnestness. “My fair cousin, I guess,” and as the soldier took her hand, he kissed the unreluctant cheek--turned to the door--Mr. Morton placed his arm in his, and the next moment they were in the street.