“Yes--Thomas Rainford and Mr. Hatfield are the same individual--and _he_ is my father! It was but little more than nineteen years ago when the trial and the ordeal of the gallows took place--and I am twenty-five! Was my mother--was Lady Hatfield my father’s _wife_ at that time? In other words--am I legitimate? ‘_As God is my judge_,’ said my father yesterday, ‘_she has never been guilty of weakness or frailty_.’ Then what am I to believe? That my father and my mother were married privately in an honourable manner--and that I was the offspring of that lawful union;--then, that my father deserted my mother, and became enamoured of Tamar, whom he took as his mistress;--and, lastly, that after Tamar’s death, my parents were reunited! This--this must be the truth--and therefore my father deceived me not when he so emphatically proclaimed my mother’s virtue and my legitimacy. But--Oh! my God!--well might he have said that _the weightiest reasons had alone induced him and my mother to practise a deception towards myself and the world in respect to the degree of relationship in which I really stood with regard to them_! Yes--for the world perhaps dates the marriage of my parents only from the time when they were reunited a few years after Tamar’s death:--and hence the necessity of calling me their _nephew_! I understand it all now--Oh! yes, I understand it all too well! I am legitimate--but I am the son of a highwayman: my God! how bitterly--bitterly is my curiosity punished this night!” And now the young man sobbed as if his heart would break. Whither had flown his dreams of ambition?--where now were his hopes of emulating the career of His Royal Highness, the Prince of Montoni? “The son of a highwayman!”--these were the words that fell ten times in a minute from his tongue:--that was the idea which now sate, dominant and all-absorbing, but like a leaden weight, upon his soul. And did he loathe his father?--did he curse the author of his being? No--no: a thousand times, _no_! Deep--profound--immeasurable was the pity which he entertained for his sire;--and if he loathed any thing, it was his own existence--if he cursed aught, it was his own being! For, oh! terrible indeed was it for that fine young man, of lofty principles, generous nature, and soaring aspirations,--terrible was it for _him_ to receive a blow so sudden--a shock so rude--a rebuff so awful! Better--better far had it been for him to remain in ignorance of his parentage,--still to have looked on Mr. Hatfield as his uncle, and on Lady Georgiana as his aunt,--rather than have learnt a secret which only prompted him to fathom collateral mysteries and clear up associated doubts! For the result of those researches was the elucidation which had flashed on him with almost lightning effect,--blasting--searing scorching!