"He deceived me also. He declared the man who pretended to perform the marriage ceremony was not in holy orders. He dared us to prove it. His father, bred up in prejudice of birth and family, did not urge the son to do justice to your mother, but satisfied his conscience by providing very amply for yourself: he first took credit to himself for thus having done his duty, then the sacrament, and died. "Your father, now Sir Reginald, in due time proposed for the richest heiress in the three adjacent counties, and was rejected with scorn. We made a strong party against him--the seat of his ancestors became hateful to him--he went abroad. His princely mansion was locked up--his estates left to the management of a grinding steward; and the world utterly forgot the self-created alien from his country." "Then, alas! after all, I am illegitimate." "And if you were?--but, methinks, that you are now feeling more for yourself than your mother." "Oh no, no! tell me of her!" "After this _expose_, she lived some few years respected in the duke's family; but she changed her name--home to her father's she would never go--no tidings ever reached her of the man she looked upon as her seducer. It must be confessed, however, that he took great care of his child--he appointed agents to watch over your welfare, though I firmly believe that he never saw you in his life." "I think that he once made the attempt when I was at Roots' school; but, before I was brought to him, his conscience smote him, and he fled like a craven from his only and injured son." "Most probably. Rumour said that he had made several visits to England under a strict incognito. But I must pause--the evening is fast waning--let me repose a little, and then we will have lights and dinner." She fell back upon her couch, and appeared again to slumber. CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. RALPH THINKS SERIOUSLY ABOUT CHANGING HIS NAME--GETS A LITTLE UNWILLING JUSTICE DONE TO HIMSELF, AND GAINS MUCH INFORMATION--THE WHOLE WOUND UP SUDDENLY AND SORROWFULLY. It was nearly dark. As I sat for more than half an hour by the side of the impenitent beauty, I could not conceive that she was in any danger. Whilst she discoursed with me so fully, her voice was firm, though not loud, and, were it not for a short and sudden check, sometimes in the middle of a word, I should say that I never before heard her converse more fluently or more musically. Whilst she yet reclined, the servants brought in lights, and made preparations for our little dinner, a small table being laid close to Mrs Causand's couch. When this exquisite repast was ready, and Miss Tremayne made her appearance, Mrs Causand rose, apparently much renovated. She looked almost happy: without assistance, she walked from her sofa, and took her place at the table. "There, Fanny," said she, quite triumphantly--"and not a single attack! This dear Ralph has surely brought health with him. Yesterday, this exertion would have killed me."