Mrs. Fitzhardinge had hitherto known nothing at all of those circumstances; but, without manifesting the least surprise, she said, “Pray be seated, my lord--compose yourself--give not way to unnecessary excitement; and I will at once proceed to explain all my conduct to your lordship.” Charles Hatfield threw himself into an arm-chair, and showed a disposition to listen with attention. “Has your lordship ever heard of a gipsy named Miranda?” enquired Mrs. Fitzhardinge. “Yes: I lately read the entire history of that Octavia Manners who became Countess of Ellingham, and who was my father’s mother. The gipsy of whom you speak was her faithful friend: but she must now be very old--even if she be in existence!” “She _is_ in existence--or at least was a short time back,” said Mrs. Fitzhardinge. “From her lips did I receive the entire history of your family.” “But she could not have known that the late Earl of Ellingham married the injured Octavia Manners,” cried Charles: “she could not have been aware of my father’s real rank and position.” “Yes--she knew all,” returned the wily woman, uttering a deliberate falsehood: “how and by what means, it matters not--neither, indeed, did she inform me. When the whole tale was revealed to me, I thought that you must be in ignorance of your just rights; and, having by accident heard a good account of your lordship’s generous heart and amiable qualities----” “From whom?” demanded Charles. “Oh! I must not gratify your curiosity in these minute details,” exclaimed Mrs. Fitzhardinge. “Suffice it that I adhere to the important points of our present topic.” “Proceed, madam: I will not again interrupt you unnecessarily,” said the young man. “Well, then, my lord--I fancied that it was a flagrant shame and an abhorrent cruelty thus to retain you in ignorance, as I supposed, of your true standing in the world; and a sense of justice determined me--although a total stranger to you--to acquaint your lordship with those facts which, it however appears, were already well known to you.” “To speak candidly, my dear madam,” said Charles, “I _was_ in complete ignorance of all those circumstances until eight or ten days ago, when they were revealed to me by the strangest accident in the world.” “May I, without appearing indiscreet, enquire the nature of the accident that thus put your lordship in possession of such important--such vitally important facts?” “Assuredly, my dear madam,” returned Charles Hatfield. “You yourself have behaved to me with so much kindness and candour in this respect, that I owe you my entire confidence. A mere chance threw in my way certain papers which fully prove that Octavia Manners was the wife of the late Earl of Ellingham when their child was born; and that my own father, who now bears the name of Hatfield, but who was so long and so unhappily known by that of Rainford, was the child to whom allusion is made.”