“Doctor Lawrence!” cried the young man with animation; “ah, I know him by name.”
“And I say thank you, too, Mr George Harrington,” began Mrs Hampton.
“My dear Rachel,” said the old lawyer reprovingly, “you are making an admission.”
“Of course I am. I said Mr George Harrington, because I believe firmly that we have been imposed upon. I am glad to see you back again, George,” she continued, holding out her hand; “and you may depend upon having my help. There, there, there, Phineas, don’t look at me like that,” she continued, as the young man grasped her hand. “You feel the same as I do in your human heart, though you cannot in your legal mind. My making an admission does not injure your position behind your books. I say we have been tricked, and the sooner we repent in sackcloth and ashes the better.”
“Come,” cried the young man, “here’s sunshine through the clouds. I have your support, madam, and that of our dear old granny here.”
“Yes, yes,” said the old housekeeper, who had wept herself nearly blind, and quite dry. “It’s him, Mr Hampton. Oh, I’m sure it’s him.”
“That’s right, old lady; and now I want to enlist another’s sympathy in my cause. Miss Bellwood—Gertrude—I came here to-night to claim my heritage, and to see the lady who would, in all probability, be my wife. You will shake hands?”
He held out his brown, sinewy hand and gazed in the troubled eyes before his, as the poor girl stood trembling by Mrs Hampton’s side, while the rest looked on curiously.
For one moment she shrank and hesitated, then, as if unable to resist the influence of the eyes which held hers, she slowly raised her hand, to have it clenched with a firm, strong pressure, before it was raised to the holder’s lips to be reverently kissed and then let fall.
“This is really very much out of order,” said Mr