For some minutes they remained silent--each too profoundly the prey to ineffable emotions to give utterance to a syllable. “I am proud--I am rejoiced to be able to call you by the sacred name of _Father_!” at length exclaimed Charles, speaking with the abrupt loosening of the tongue which was caused by a sudden impulse. “But are you--are you well pleased that accident should have thus revealed to me----” “Charles--my dear boy,” interrupted Mr. Hatfield, summoning all his firmness to his aid, “you must be aware that weighty reasons--the weightiest reasons--could alone have induced your mother and myself to practise a deception towards you and the world in respect to the degree of relationship in which you really stood with regard to us. Is it sufficient for you to know at last that you _are_ our son?--or do you demand of me an explanation wherefore you must still pass as our _nephew_?” “Oh! then Lord Ellingham spoke truly as he brought me hither just now!” cried Charles, in a tone of vexation: then, in another moment brightening up, he added feelingly, “But by what right do I dare to question the conduct of parents who have ever treated me so kindly? No--my dear father--I seek not any explanation at your hands--I am content to obey your wishes in all things.” “Generous youth!” exclaimed Mr. Hatfield. “Though you must pass as my nephew, Charles, yet in all respects shall you continue to be treated as my son! You are doubtless aware that I am rich--very rich;--and all that your mother and myself possess is bequeathed to you.” “One word, father--only one word!” cried Charles. “I have an ardent longing to ask a single question--and yet I dare not--no--I cannot tutor my lips to frame the words----” “Speak!” said, Mr. Hatfield, emphatically: “I can almost divine the question you hesitate to put to me.” “Ah! my dear father--I would rather know the truth at once than remain in suspense, a prey to a thousand wild conjectures--the truth regarding one point--and only one!” repeated the young man, in an earnest and imploring tone. “And imagine not,” he continued, speaking with increased warmth and rapidity, “that I should ever look less lovingly or less respectfully upon my dear mother--if----” “Set that suspicion at rest, my son,” interrupted Mr. Hatfield, in a solemn manner. “Your mother has ever been an angel of innocence and purity! As God is my judge she has never been guilty of weakness or frailty--no--never--never!” he added emphatically. “And therefore no stigma is upon my birth?” asked Charles, his heart palpitating--or rather fluttering violently, as he awaited the response. “None!” replied his father, with an effort which was, however, unnoticed by the young man in the excitement of his own feelings. “God be thanked!” exclaimed he, wringing Mr. Hatfield’s hand in gratitude for this assurance. “And now I seek to learn no more.” CHAPTER CXXII. TWO OF THE READER’S OLD FRIENDS.