“Go on,” replied I.
“‘He was a very fine child while he lived with us; but he was taken away at six years old, and I have never seen him since.’
“‘Some people say that he is very like Lady R—.’
“‘Well, why should he not be? ay, she was once a very beautiful young person.’
“‘Well, grandfather, I have never heard the rights of that story,’ said I, ‘and now that you are at liberty to tell it, perhaps you will let me have the whole history.’
“‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘as there is no longer a secret, I do not know but that I may. Your aunt Green, you know, was nurse to Lady R—, and remained in the family for years afterwards; for old Sir Alexander Moystyn was confined to his room for years with gout and other complaints, and your aunt Green attended him. It was just as Sir Alexander had recovered from a very bad fit, that Miss Ellen, who was Lady R—’s sister, and years younger than she was, made her runaway match with Colonel Dempster, a very fashionable, gay young man, who had come down here to shoot with the present baronet. Everyone was much surprised at this, for all the talk was that the match would be with the eldest sister, Lady R—, and not the youngest. They went off somewhere abroad. Old Sir Alexander was in a terrible huff about it, and was taken ill again; and Lady R—, who was then Miss Barbara, appeared also much distressed at her sister’s conduct. Well, a year or more passed away, when, one day, Miss Barbara told your aunt Green that she wished her to go with her on a journey, and she set off in the evening with four post-horses, and travelled all night till she arrived at Southampton. There she stopped at a lodging, and got out, spoke to the landlady, and calling my daughter out of the chaise, desired her to remain below while she went upstairs. My daughter was tired of staying so long, for she remained there for five hours, and Miss Barbara did not make her appearance, but they appeared to be very busy in the house, running up and downstairs. At last a grave person, who appeared to be a doctor, came into the parlour, followed by the landlady—in the parlour in which my daughter was sitting.’
“‘It’s all over, Mrs Wilson,’ said he, ‘nothing could save her; but the child will do well, I have no doubt.’
“‘What’s to be done, sir?’
“‘Oh,’ replied the doctor, ‘the lady above stairs told me that she was her sister, so of course we must look to her for all future arrangements.’
“After giving a few directions about the infant, the doctor left the house, and soon after that Miss Barbara came downstairs.