"Unspeakably."
"—You would do me a great favour by saying why."
"Because—look at me, dear lad—because you are my only son!"
"In that I really think you must be mistaken. There are two gentlemen yonder in the corner who at present are asleep. Are you quite sure one of these is not the object of your search?"
"Quite sure, my dear lad. It is unmistakable, as I said. You are Tristram?"
"I am; though I don't see why it should be unmistakable."
"Those eyes—that voice! It is impossible you should not be Margaret's son!"
"My mother's name was Margaret," Tristram answered; "that's true enough. She died when I was born."
"Tristram," said his visitor, lowering the lantern and bowing his head, "I was her unworthy husband, and am your father, Roderick Salt."
"That would certainly be plausible, but for one difficulty."