“Your nephew, I suppose,” assented Elliott.
“And you did not know you had an uncle here?” the old man asked quickly.
“Well, I knew you were living somewhere in the South, but was not certain of the exact locality.”
At this, the face of the visitor softened, a strange glow leaping to life in his quiet eyes.
“Your mother discarded me years ago for marrying a Southern girl not—not exactly up to her ideal, and I thought you might not have known she had a cast-off brother, whom she thought had shamed his blood and name,” was the low spoken comment.
Then, half-unconsciously he stammered, “Catharine—your mother, is she well?”
“Quite well, I thank you,” said Elliott.
“Will she come here to—to see you?”
“Not likely, no; I don’t think she will ever come South again,” was the contemplative reply.
“Then she has not changed; she still hates us here!” commented the other half sadly.