For rebellious thoughts again rose in the mind of the young man;--and he felt hurt and vexed that his conduct should thus be questioned by parents who never had acknowledged him as their son until the necessity was forced upon them by his accidental discovery of the secret of his birth, and who now kept him out of what he conceived to be his just rights. Moreover, was he not twenty-five years old?--and was that an age at which he should thus be tutored and treated like a child? Lastly, it was verging fast upon twelve; and had he not assured his Perdita that he would not be a minute later mid-day? “Charles, why do you not answer me?” asked Mr. Hatfield, approaching him: “wherefore do you treat your parents with contempt?” “Wherefore did my parents treat me with such unnatural neglect as to bring me up as their nephew?” demanded the young man, turning abruptly--almost savagely round upon his father. “Wherefore do they now pass me off to the world in that latter capacity?” he cried, becoming fearfully excited. Lady Georgiana uttered a faint scream, covered her face with her hands, and fell back in her chair sobbing bitterly. “You speak of unnatural conduct!” cried Mr. Hatfield, growing excited in his turn. “Tell me at once, Charles--do you mean to throw off all allegiance to your parents? If so--remember that it is in our power to deprive you of the immense fortune which is otherwise destined for you----” “Ah! menaces!” ejaculated the young man: and darting upon his father a look of mingled regret and anger--of united sorrow and indignation,--a look so strange, so ominous that Mr. Hatfield started with horror,--he rushed from the room. “Stay! stay!” cried Lady Georgiana, springing towards the door. But her son heeded her not: he obeyed not her voice;--and the unhappy mother sank upon the floor, gasping for utterance, and feeling as if her heart would break with the wretched sensations that filled her bosom. Mr. Hatfield hastened to raise his wife--to place her in a chair--and to breath words of consolation in her ears. When she was somewhat recovered, she clasped her hands convulsively together; and, looking up appealingly into his face, said, “Is this a reality? or is it a dream?” “Alas! it is a terrible reality,” responded Mr. Hatfield, in a tone of mingled bitterness and sorrow. “And what can it all mean?” asked Lady Georgiana, wildly: for she was bewildered by the strangeness of her son’s conduct--amazed by the sudden alteration of his manner from respect to insolent indifference towards his parents.