"Her joy was like a mad woman's: the dear old Hecate pranced, and danced, and sung, and shouted like nothing but a mother when she finds her long-lost child: not that she's your mother, Emmy dear. No--no--matters are better than that: all she vouchsafes, though, to tell me is, that you are a lady born and bred, and--for I cannot find the words to inform your pure mind clearer--that 'you are not what he thinks you.'" [Here followeth another twinkling universe of stars; * * * * * * * and thereafter our cavalier condescendeth again to matters of fact.] "Nurse Mackie of course comes back with me next packet; this letter goes by the overland mail more quickly than we can; gladly would I go too, but the old woman, whose life is essential to your rights, would die of fatigue by the way; as it is, I am obliged to coddle her, and feed her, and ptisan her, like a sick baby, bless her dear old heart that loves my darling Emmy! She has a pack of papers with her, which she will not open, till the general is by her side: if she unfortunately dies before we can return, I am to have them, and all will be right. But the old soul is so afraid of being left behind (as you throw away the orange-peel after you have squeezed it), that she will not tell me a word about them yet; so, I only gather what I can from her cautious garrulity, hints about a Begum and a captain, and the Stuarts, and a Putty-what-d'ye-call-it. And it is all in document, as well as _viva-voce_ (this means 'gossip,' dear). So now you may be expecting us, as soon as ever we can get to you. Tell the general all this, and give him my best love, next after your's Emmy; for he is my father still, and my very heart yearns after him: O, that he were kinder with me as I see he is with you, dear, and more open with us all! Also, kiss, if she will let you, my mother for me, and I hope you will have hinted to her long ago, that I am only playing truant. How is poor--poor Julian? he will understand me, if you tell him I forgive him, and will never say one word about our little tiff. And now dearest Emmy--" [The remainder of this letter must, believe me, be as starry as before.] * * * * * CHAPTER XXII. REVELATIONS. GENERAL TRACY gave a long-drawn sigh: and tears--tears of true affection--stood in those most fish-like eyes, as he mournfully said, "Bless him, bless dear Charles, almost as much as you, my own sweet Emmy. Heaven send it be true--for Heaven can work miracles. But without a miracle, Emily, in sober sadness I declare it, you must forget--_your brother Charles, my daughter_!" Emily fell flat upon her face, so cold, so white, that he believed her dead.