"Yes—my sister, Kate—my own sister!"—and he embraced her tenderly. "Compose yourself, dear girl—compose yourself: this is no place for explanations! But you are not the less my sister—and I thank God for it! I have now a natural right to be your protector—and a protector as well as an affectionate brother will you ever find me!"
"Oh! Richard—this sudden—this unexpected happiness is too much!" exclaimed Katherine, weeping through varied but ineffable emotions. "Is it possible that he whom I have known as a benefactor is indeed a brother!"
"I cannot doubt it—I do not wish to doubt it," returned Markham. "No—I am happy that I have found a sister in her whom I already loved as one!"
And again he embraced her tenderly.
"And I to find a brother in the noblest and best of men!" murmured Katherine: "it appears to be a dream—a delicious dream!"
"It is a reality," said Richard; "and we shall now all be happier than ever. Oh! what a surprise for those at home!"
"Then you perceive, my lord, that the dokiments is of some wally," observed Mr. Banks, wiping his eyes with the limp ends of his cravat, as if deeply affected by the scene. "I knowed they was; and I now begin to think that I have found out your name. I'm sure it's a unspeakable honour that a great lord and prince like you has done my poor house by setting foot in it—and all amongst the coffins too!"
"Let us now conclude this business, sir," exclaimed Richard, with whom the undertaker's remarks passed unheeded, so absorbed were his thoughts in the signal discovery which he had just made. "These papers are mine; and this pocket-book is yours. You may examine its contents."
"Oh! I've no doubt they're all right, my lord," said Banks, grasping the treasure now handed to him; "but I'll just look over 'em—merely for form's sake. It's more business-like. And nice new flimsies they are, too," continued the undertaker, as he scrutinised the notes one by one. "Ah! what miserable wessels we should be without money, my lord—in this wicked world;—and what would become of us if our friends had no cash to buy us nice coffins when we are blessed defunct carkisses? It's awful to think of! Four fifties—two hundreds—and ten tens: that's five hundred—sure enow."
And Mr. Banks proceeded to lock up the pocket-book, with its valuable contents, in his desk.