"I had a consolation, Gerald. Her last words to me, as she placed her arms about my neck, were that she had lived with me in perfect happiness, and that we should meet each other again."
"Her child lives?"
"You shall see him, Gerald. I named him after you; it was Clara's wish before our child was born, that if we were blessed with a boy he should be called Gerald. He is a handsome young fellow--a man now--good, noble, and high-minded." He spoke with the pride of a fond father.
"I am sure he would be."
"My most earnest hope with regard to him is that he may make a good alliance. He may look high, for he will be rich. But to your confession, Gerald; we have wandered away from it."
"You will not say so when you have heard it." Mr. Hart placed his hand upon the hand of his friend. "Have you still no suspicion of it?"
"No, Gerald, I hold no clue."
"I kept my secret well, then. Dear friend, I loved Clara."
Mr. Weston turned to Mr. Hart, with a startled look.
"And I knew," continued Mr. Hart, "that you loved her, and that she looked upon me only as a friend of the man to whom she had given her heart. Fearful lest my secret should, in an unguarded moment, become known to you and her, and knowing that the disclosure would bring an unnecessary grief into your lives, I adopted the only safe course which was open to me. I did not envy you your happiness, Richard, but I felt that I could bear my sorrow more bravely away from you--therefore I deserted you."