He went over and took his place by Erminie.
“Do you know she is your sister, your mother’s child?” asked the wounded man.
“I know it now; I did not before,” was the awe-struck answer.
“You have heard she is in Baltimore?”
“I have.”
“Then go there, immediately; ride as you never before in your life, and tell them all. Bring her here; I would see her again before I die.”
Ray started to his feet.
“Tell her who you are, yourself—her son; it will be better so. When they learn their long-lost daughter is here they will need no incentive to have them haste. One act of justice must be rendered before I die.”
“Let me accompany you,” said Ranty, as Ray started from the house. “I know exactly where to find them. Saints and angels! where will the revelations of this night end?”
There was no reply from Ray; he could make none; his brains were whirling as if mad. He sprung on his horse; Ranty followed, and in another instant they were flying on like the wind toward Judestown.