ey have an important game to play, in which they do not want
you to act a conspicuous part. I can whisper a secret into your ears
well worth the knowing--ay, and the keeping, too. Geoffrey Moncton, you
are this Sir Alexander's _heir_!"

A sudden thrill shot through my whole frame. It was not pleasure, for
at that moment I felt sad enough; nor hope, for I had long accustomed
myself to look only on the dark side of the picture. It was, I fear,
revenge; a burning desire to pay back the insults and injuries I had
received from Theophilus Moncton, and to frustrate the manoeuvres of
his designing father.

"Has Sir Alexander no children?"

"He has a daughter--an only daughter, a fair, fragile girl of sixteen;
the noblest, the most disinterested of her sex; a creature as talented
as she is beautiful. Margaretta Moncton is destined to be the wife of
her cousin Theophilus."

"Does he love her?"

"How can you ask that question, knowing the man, and after having read
the note addressed to your uncle?"

"That note was signed A---- M----."

"It was written by an unhappy, infatuated creature, whom Theophilus
_did_ love, if such a passion as his callous bosom can feel, deserves
the name; but he shall not escape my vengeance. The arrow is in the
bow, and a punishment as terrible as his crime, shall overtake him
yet."

"Oh, that you would enter more fully into these dark details. You are
ingenious at tormenting. I am bewildered and lost amid these half
disclosures."

"Hush, Geoffrey! these walls have ears. I, too, am tortured, maddened
by your questions. You are too imprudent--too impulsive, to trust with
matters of such vital importance; I have revealed too much already. Try
and forget the events of this morning; nor let your uncle discover by
look, word or gesture, that you are in possession of his secret. He is
deeply offended with his son, not on account of his base conduct to
this poor orphan girl, but because it is likely to hinder his marriage
with Miss Moncton, which has been for years the idol wish of his heart.
His morose spirit, once aroused, is deadly and implacable; and in order
to make Theophilus feel the full weight of his anger, he may call you
to fill his vacant place."

The sound of Mr. Moncton's step in the passage put a sudden stop to our
conversation, but enough had been said to rouse my curiosity to the
highest pitch; and I tried in vain to lift the dark veil of
futurity--to penetrate the mysteries tha