Poor Dick was silenced for the moment. He knew he was taking up Mr. Brandon's time, and so the time of his employer. He walked up and down the little office and thought it all over. Certain passages in his mother's letter came to his mind. In this way, perhaps, had her appeals been sneered at in the olden times! "Mr. Brandon," he said, standing in front of his tormentor, his whole appearance changed from that of the hesitating, embarrassed boy to the resolute, high-spirited man-- "Mr. Brandon, there has been enough trifling. {65} I insist upon knowing if you were or were not the husband of Miss Heremore. If you were not, it is a very simple thing to say so. There are plenty of ways by which I can make myself certain of the fact without your assistance; but out of consideration for you, I came to you first." "I am deeply grateful," with a mock ceremonious bow. "But if you persist in this way of treating me, I shall have to go elsewhere." "And then?" "Heaven knows I do not ask anything of you, beyond the information I came to seek. I wondered yesterday why she should have given me her father's name instead of mine; now I can understand it. I had doubts while first speaking to you, but now they are gone. I believe it is so. If you will not tell me as much as you know of Dr. Heremore, I can go to his old home for it. It would have saved me time and expense if you had answered my questions; but as you please." He was clearly in earnest. Mr. Brandon saw it, and stopped him at the door. "My wife's name _was_ Heremore," he said very indifferently, "and her father has been dead these twenty years. You have your answer. Permit me to ask what you mean to do about it?" "Dr. Heremore was my grandfather," said Dick, coming back and sitting down. "Ah! indeed!" politely; "he was a very excellent old gentleman in his way; it is much to be regretted that he and you should have been unable to make each other's acquaintance." "When my mother--your first wife--died, you knew she left two children." "One--a daughter. I think you have met her." "There were two. I was the other." "Are you quite sure?" asked Mr. Brandon in the same languid tones; but, for the first time, it seemed to Dick that they faltered. "I am quite sure. You would know her writing." "Possibly. It was a great while ago, and my eyes are not as good as they were." "You would recognize her portrait?" "If one I had seen before, I might." "I should say this was a portrait of the first Mrs. Brandon," he said, taking that which Dick handed him and, looking at it, not without some signs of embarrassment, "or of someone very like her. And this is not unlike her writing, as I remember it. Oh! you wish me to read this?" Dick signed assent, watching him while he read. Whatever Mr. Brandon felt while reading that letter, he kept it all in his own heart. "This is all?" he asked when he had read and deliberately refolded it. "It is all at present," answered Dick.