"What is his name?—Do I know his family?"
"You will be distressed, Catherine, when you hear the name; you will be astonished when you learn the whole story; but the time for concealment has gone by now. Several years ago that poor sailor came to me, in ragged clothing, in poverty and distress, and first laid his complaint before me. I did not believe a word of what he told me; I thought the man mad, and refused to have anything to do with the cause. He became disgusted, and went to sea again, and for some time gave up all hope of being reinstated in his rights; the obstacles seemed too great. But at length a very important witness in his favour was accidentally thrown in his way: at the end of his cruise he came to me again, and I confess I was astounded at the evidence he then laid before me. It is conclusive, beyond a doubt, to any unprejudiced mind," said Mr. Clapp, rousing himself from his recumbent position.
"But you have not told me the man's name."
"His name is Stanley—William Stanley."
"You said I knew him; but I never heard of him; I don't know the family at all."
"Yes, you do; you know them only too well; you will be as much surprised as I was myself—as I am still, whenever I allow myself to dwell on the subject. Mr. Stanley is the cousin-german of your friend, Miss Elinor Wyllys. Mr. Wyllys himself, Mrs. Stanley, the step-mother, and young Hazlehurst, are the individuals who stand between him and his rights," continued Mr. Clapp, rising, and walking across the room, as he ran his fingers through his brown curls.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Kate, as the fan she held dropped from her hand.
"Just what I said myself, at first," replied Mr. Clapp.
"But surely you are deceived, William—how can it be?" continued the wife, in amazement. "We always thought that Mr. Stanley was lost at sea, years ago!"
"Exactly—it was thought so; but it was not true."