"Mrs Causand," said I, in a tone of voice more cold than any with which I had yet addressed her, "it seems that you have, and that most unreasonably too, taken part against me. In no point have I sinned against you or yours. I have all along been the attacked, the aggrieved party. I will no longer offend your ears, or wring your heart, by a recapitulation of your son's delinquencies. He has done me much wrong; he is contemplating more--only place me in a situation to do myself justice, and silence on the past shall seal my lips for ever; but know that he has stolen all my documents, and intends passing himself to whomever may be my father, as his legitimate son, as myself." "This must not be--foolish, mad, wicked boy! That I, his mother, must stand up his accuser! must act against him as his enemy! but I have long ago discarded him--almost cursed him. Oh, Ralph, Ralph! had he been but like you--but, from his youth upwards, he has been inclined to wickedness--no fortune could have supplied his extravagance--he has exhausted even a mother's love. I refused him money, and he stole my papers--I never dreamt of the vile use that he intended to put them to. Spare me for a little while, and I will let you know all; but should you once get his neck under your heel, oh! tread lightly on my poor William!" She had evidently another and a most severe attack of her complaint, which passed rapidly over like the rest; but she now had, for the first time in my observation, recourse to her medicines. When sufficiently recovered, she continued: "Ralph, neither you nor any one else shall know my private history. It is enough for you to understand that I was almost from infancy destined to associate with the greatest of the sterner sex. Early was I involved in this splendid--degradation, the austere would call it, though degradation I never held it to be. Even appearances were preserved; for, before my wretched son was born, I was married to one of the pages of a German court, who was sixty years of age, and properly submissive and distant. To the English ear, this sounds like a confession of infamy. Let me not, Ralph, endeavour to justify it to you--I was taught otherwise--now, if I could, I would not regret it. Your father, then an only son, sometimes visited at the house of the person over whose establishment I presided, and--and, mark me, Ralph, injuriously as you must now think of me, I presided over but one. Deride me not when I tell that to that distinguished personage I was chaste." She paused, and I thought that her voice faltered strangely, and that the assertion died upon her lips, and I made no reply. I was by no means astonished at this detail. I could only look upon her most anxiously, and await her future disclosures.