quality existed. He felt how much more just, intuitive,
conscientious even, were his own views than those of mankind, in
general; and he seldom deigned to consult with any as to the opinions
he ought to entertain, or as to the conduct he ought to pursue. It is
scarcely necessary to say, that such a being was one of strong and
engrossing passions, the impulses frequently proving too imperious
for the affections, or even for principles. The scene that he was now
compelled to go through, was consequently one of sore mortification
and self-abasement; and yet, feeling its justice no less than its
necessity, and having made up his mind to discharge what had now
become a duty, his very pride of character led him to do it manfully,
and with no uncalled-for reserves. It was a painful and humiliating
task, notwithstanding; and it required all the self-command, all the
sense of right, and all the clear perception of consequences, that
one so quick to discriminate could not avoid perceiving, to enable
him to go through it with the required steadiness and connexion.

John Effingham received Paul and Eve, seated in an easy chair; for,
while he could not be said to be ill, it was evident that his very
frame had been shaken by the events and emotions of the few preceding
hours. He gave a hand to each, and, drawing Eve affectionately to
him, he imprinted a kiss on a cheek that was burning, though it paled
and reddened in quick succession, the heralds of the tumultuous
thoughts within. The look he gave Paul was kind and welcome, while a
hectic spot glowed on each cheek, betraying that his presence excited
pain as well as pleasure. A long pause succeeded this meeting, when
John Effingham broke the silence.

"There can now be no manner of question, my dear Paul," he said,
smiling affectionately but sadly as he looked at the young man,
"about your being my son. The letter written by John Assheton to your
mother, after the separation of your parents, would settle that
important point, had not the names, and the other facts that have
come to our knowledge, already convinced me of the precious truth;
for precious and very dear to me is the knowledge that I am the
father of so worthy a child. You must prepare yourself to hear things
that it will not be pleasant for a son to listen--"

"No, no--cousin Jack--_dear_ cousin Jack!" cried Eve, throwing
herself precipitately into her kinsman's arms, "we will hear nothing
of the sort. It is sufficie