“I will see her; thank you--thank you; she cannot refuse me.” “And, brother,” resumed Mrs. Morton, after a short pause, and speaking in a firm voice--“and is it possible that you disbelieve my story?--that you, like all the rest, consider my children the sons of shame?” There was an honest earnestness in Catherine’s voice, as she spoke, that might have convinced many. But Mr. Morton was a man of facts, a practical man--a man who believed that law was always right, and that the improbable was never true. He looked down as he answered, “I think you have been a very ill-used woman, Catherine, and that is all I can say on the matter; let us drop the subject.” “No! I was not ill-used; my husband--yes, my husband--was noble and generous from first to last. It was for the sake of his children’s prospects--for the expectations they, through him, might derive from his proud uncle--that he concealed our marriage. Do not blame Philip--do not condemn the dead.” “I don’t want to blame any one,” said Mr. Morton, rather angrily; “I am a plain man--a tradesman, and can only go by what in my class seems fair and honest, which I can’t think Mr. Beaufort’s conduct was, put it how you will; if he marries you as you think, he gets rid of a witness, he destroys a certificate, and he dies without a will. How ever, all that’s neither here nor there. You do quite right not to take the name of Beaufort, since it is an uncommon name, and would always make the story public. Least said, soonest mended. You must always consider that your children will be called natural children, and have their own way to make. No harm in that! Warm day for your journey.” Catherine sighed, and wiped her eyes; she no longer reproached the world, since the son of her own mother disbelieved her. The relations talked together for some minutes on the past--the present; but there was embarrassment and constraint on both sides--it was so difficult to avoid one subject; and after sixteen years of absence, there is little left in common, even between those who once played together round their parent’s knees. Mr. Morton was glad at last to find an excuse in Catherine’s fatigue to leave her. “Cheer up, and take a glass of something warm before you go to bed. Good night!” these were his parting words.