medical faculty in the world. Ralph, do not you league
together with the rest of the world, and condemn me to an untimely
death."

"Untimely, indeed."

She had now evidently talked too much; she closed her eyes, and seemed
to enjoy a peaceful and refreshing slumber. I sat by and watched her.
Was I then in a sick-chamber?--was that personification of beauty
doomed? I looked round, and pronounced it incredible. I gazed upon the
recumbent figure before me, so still, so living, and yet so death-like--
and moralised upon the utter deception of appearances.

At length she awoke, apparently much reanimated.

"My dear Ralph," said she, "why are you not in mourning?"

"I understand you--and I perceive that you are now in black. But I must
not disturb you--yet, if I dared, I would ask you one question--oh, in
pity answer it--was she my mother?"

"Does death absolve us from our oaths?"

"I am not, dear lady, casuist enough to answer you that question. But
do you know that I have become a desperate character lately? I write
myself man, and will prove the authenticity of the signature with my
life. I have renounced my profession--every pursuit, every calling,
every thought--that may stand between me and the development of the
mystery of my birth. It is the sole purpose of my life--the whole
devotion of my existence."

"Ralph--a foolish one--just now. Bide the course of events."

"I will not--if I can control them. Through this detestable mystery, I
have been insulted, reviled--a wretch has had the hardihood, the
turpitude, to brand both you and me--me as the base-born child, and you
as the ignominious parent."

"Who, who, who?"

"A pale-faced, handsome, short, smooth-worded villain, with a voice that
I now recognise, for the first time--a coward--a swindler, that calls
himself, undoubtedly among other aliases--"

"Stop, Ralph, in misery!" and, for the first time, she sat upright on
her couch. "The crisis of a whole life is at hand--I must go through
it, if I die on the spot--ring again for Miss Tremayne."

The gentle and quiet lady was soon at Mrs Causand's side. There was a
little whispering passed between them, some medicines put on the small
work-table near the head of the couch, and, finally, a tolerably large
packet of papers. She then cautioned Mrs Causand most emphatically to
keep herself tranquil, and, bowing to me slightly, glided out of the
room.

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.

THE VEIL IS FAS