“I have that letter at home,” said Mr. Percy: “your lordship shall see it. I perfectly recollect the circumstances of Mr. Henry’s having been brought up in Ireland by a Dublin merchant, and having received constantly a remittance in quarterly payments of four hundred pounds a year, from a banker in Cork.” “Did he inquire why, or from whom?” said Lord Oldborough; “and does he know his mother?” “Certainly not: the answer to his first inquiries prevented all further questions. He was told by the bankers that they had directions to stop payment of the remittance if any questions were asked.” Lord Oldborough listened with profound attention as Mr. Percy went on with the history of Mr. Henry, relating all the circumstances of his honourable conduct with respect to Miss Panton--his disinterestedness, decision, and energy of affection. Lord Oldborough’s emotion increased--he seemed to recognize some traits of his own character. “I _hope_ this youth is my son,” said his lordship, in a low suppressed voice. “He deserves to be yours, my lord,” said Mr. Percy. “To have a son might be the greatest of evils--to have _such_ a son must be the greatest of blessings,” said his lordship. He was lost in thought for a moment, then exclaimed, “I must see the letter--I must see the man.” “My lord, he is at my house.” Lord Oldborough started from his seat--“Let me see him instantly.” “To-morrow, my lord,” said Mr. Percy, in a calm tone, for it was necessary to calm his impetuosity--“to-morrow. Mr. Henry could not be brought here to-night without alarming him, or without betraying to him the cause of our anxiety.” “To-morrow, let it be--you are right, my dear friend. Let me see him without his suspecting that I am any thing to him, or he to me--you will let me have the letter to-night.” “Certainly, my lord.”