“Your father, now Sir Reginald, in due time proposed for the richest heiress in the three adjacent counties, and was rejected with scorn. We made a strong party against him—the seat of his ancestors became hateful to him—he went abroad. His princely mansion was locked up—his estates left to the management of a grinding steward; and the world utterly forgot the self-created alien from his country.”
“Then, alas! after all, I am illegitimate.”
“And if you were?—but, methinks, that you are now feeling more for yourself than your mother.”
“Oh no, no! tell me of her!”
“After this exposé, she lived some few years respected in the duke’s family; but she changed her name—home to her father’s she would never go—no tidings ever reached her of the man she looked upon as her seducer. It must be confessed, however, that he took great care of his child—he appointed agents to watch over your welfare, though I firmly believe that he never saw you in his life.”
“I think that he once made the attempt when I was at Roots’ school; but, before I was brought to him, his conscience smote him, and he fled like a craven from his only and injured son.”
“Most probably. Rumour said that he had made several visits to England under a strict incognito. But I must pause—the evening is fast waning—let me repose a little, and then we will have lights and dinner.” She fell back upon her couch, and appeared again to slumber.