"Yes, Ishmael. I have told you so, and I have told you truly."
"Aunt Hannah, three years ago I asked you who was my father. You replied by a blow. Well, I was but a boy then, and so of course you must have thought that that was the most judicious answer you could give. But now, Aunt Hannah, I am a young man, and I demand of you, Who was my father?"
"Ishmael, I cannot tell you!"
With a sharp cry of anguish the youth sprang up; but governing his strong excitement he subsided to his seat, only gasping out the question:
"In the name of Heaven, why can you not?"
Hannah's violent sobs were the only answer.
"Aunt Hannah! I know this much—that your name is Hannah Worth; that my dear mother was your sister; that her name was Nora Worth; and that mine is Ishmael Worth! Therefore I know that I bear yours and my mother's maiden name! I always took it for granted that my father belonged to the same family; that he was a relative, perhaps a cousin of my mother, and that he bore the same name, and therefore did not in marrying my mother give her a new one. That was what I always thought, Aunt Hannah; was I right?"
Hannah sobbed on in silence.
"Aunt Hannah! by my mother's grave, I adjure you to answer me! Was I right?"
"No, Ishmael, you were not!" wailed Hannah.