got my presence in the
excitement of the moment, and the stern unfeeling eye blazed with lurid
fire.

"Fool!--madman--insane idiot!" he cried, tearing the note to pieces,
and trampling on the fragments in his ungovernable rage: "how have you
marred your own fortune, destroyed your best hopes, and annihilated all
my plans for your future advancement!"

Suddenly he became conscious of my presence, and glancing at me with
his usual iron gravity, said, with an expression of haughty
indifference, as if my opinion of his extraordinary conduct was matter
of no importance,

"Geoffrey, go and tell that mad-woman--But no. I will go myself."

He advanced to the door, seemed again irresolute, and finally bade me
show her into the study. Dinah North rose with alacrity to obey the
summons, and for a person of her years, seemed to possess great
activity of mind and body. I felt a secret loathing for the hag, and
pitied my uncle the unpleasant conference which I was certain awaited
him.

Mr. Moncton had resumed his seat in his large study chair, and he rose
with such calm dignity to receive his unwelcome visitor, that his late
agitation appeared a delusion of my own heated imagination.

Curiosity was one of my besetting sins. Ah, how I longed to know the
substance of their discourse; for I felt a mysterious presentiment that
in some way or another, my future destiny was connected with this
stranger. I recalled the distress of Harrison, the dark hints he had
thrown out respecting me, and his evident knowledge, not only of the
old woman, but of the purport of her visit.

I was tortured with conjectures. I lingered in the passage; but the
conversation was carried on in too low a tone for me even to
distinguish a solitary monosyllable; and ashamed of acting the part of
a spy, I stole back with noiseless steps to my place in the office. I
found George at his desk: his face was very pale, and I thought I could
perceive traces of strong emotion. For some time he wrote on in
silence, without asking a word about the secret that I was burning to
tell. I was the first to speak and lead him to the subject.

"Do you know that horrible old woman, George?"

"Too well: she is my grandmother, and nursed me in my infancy."

"Then, what made you so anxious to avoid a recognition?"

"I did not want her to know that I was living. She believes me dead:
nay more," he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, "she thinks
she murdered me." His