"You should not think too hardly of her husband; there might be many most important motives to lead him to conceal his marriage: at all events, you should forgive, as you would be forgiven."
"I do forgive," answered the old man; "I have long forgiven; but there has been a bitter tree planted in my heart, which bears its fruit still. And now, young gentleman, let me ask your name; for you are so strangely like my own dear girl that I feel glad I have opened those long-closed doors to you. I have always had a notion that before I die I shall see my poor Mary's boy; and though I know that the name the man took was a false one, yet I caught a sight of the real one in the certificate, and I should recollect it if your name came somewhat near. I looked at it but little, it is true, in that terrible hour; but still I think I should remember."
Henry paused thoughtfully for a moment or two, and then replied--
"I am called Frank Middleton; but we will talk more about this, Mr. Graves, hereafter, tor there are some strange circumstances connected with my own birth, too--at present I feel rather giddy."
"I forgot--I forgot," said the old man. "We will have the tea, and talk more to-morrow. It is almost too much for my head, and must be too much for yours."
He rang the bell as he spoke; and then, returning to the subject, which he seemed to find a difficulty in leaving, he said--
"Where were you brought up, sir?"
"Principally upon the Continent," replied Henry; "in Italy and Spain, and for some time in Mexico."
"Ay, he was a merchant," said the old man, "and would have the means of sending the boy abroad. But Middleton--that was not the name."
"I have some reason to believe that my father's real name was not Middleton," replied Henry, "though that is the name I have gone by for many years, and perhaps by inquiring we could discover more. However, to-morrow morning will be time enough."