ll
never part with it. I will maintain my equality with you and your son
to the last moment of my life."

Overcome by excitement and agitation, I sank down into a chair, my head
dropped upon the table and I sobbed convulsively.

"Geoffrey," said my uncle, in a low voice, in which an unusual touch of
kindness mingled, "calm down this furious passion. Poor lad! I pity and
excuse your indignation; both are natural in your case."

"Such sympathy is worse than hate," I muttered.

"Well, believe me the author of all your wrongs, if it pleases you,
Geoffrey; but first listen to what I have to say."

I was too much exhausted by the violence of my emotions to offer the
least opposition, and he had it entirely his own way--commencing his
remarks with a provoking coolness which cut me to the heart.

"When you lost your parents, Geoffrey, you were too young to have
formed a correct estimate of their characters."

"I have a very indistinct recollection of my father. I remember my
mother well."

"You may imagine that. Your father had a fine, manly face, and nature
had endowed him with those useless but brilliant qualities of mind,
which the world calls genius, and like many of the same class, he acted
more from impulse than from principle. Your mother was a beautiful
young woman, but with little discretion, who loved unwisely and too
well. Her father saw enough of my brother Edward's character, to awaken
his suspicions that his attentions to his daughter were not of an
honourable nature, and he forbade him the house.

"This impolitic step brought matters to a crisis. The young people
eloped together, and the old man died of a broken heart. Your mother
went by the name of Moncton, and was introduced to his sporting friends
as my brother's wife. But no evidence exists of a marriage having taken
place; and until such evidence can be procured, the world will look
upon you as illegitimate.

"You will soon be of age, Geoffrey, and if you are prepared with these
indispensable documents, I will assist, to the best of my professional
abilities, in helping you to establish your claims. It is not in my
power to destroy or invalidate them. Why then these base
suspicions--these unmerited reproaches--these hurricanes of passion?
Why doubt my integrity at the very moment when I am most anxious to
serve you?"

"Because in no instance have you ever proved yourself my friend, and I
cannot help doubting your sincerity!"

"A want of cand