nt that you are Paul's father, and we wish
to know no more--will hear no more."

"This is like yourself, Eve, but it will not answer what I conceive
to be the dictates of duty. Paul had two parents; and not the
slightest suspicion ought to rest on one of them, in order to spare
the feelings of the other. In showing me this kindness you are
treating Paul inconsiderately."

"I beg, dear sir, you will not think too much of me, but entirely
consult your own judgment--your own sense of--in short, dear father,
that you will consider yourself before your son."

"I thank you, my children--what a word, and what a novel sensation is
this, for me, Ned!--I feel all your kindness, but if you would
consult my peace of mind, and wish me to regain my self-respect, you
will allow me to disburthen my soul of the weight that oppresses it.
This is strong language; but, while I have no confessions of
deliberate criminality, or of positive vice to make, I feel it to be
hardly too strong for the facts. My tale will be very short, and I
crave your patience, Ned, while I expose my former weakness to these
young people." Here John Effingham paused, as if to recollect
himself; then he proceeded with a seriousness of manner that caused
every syllable he uttered to tell on the ears of his listeners. "It
is well known to your father, Eve, though it will probably be new to
you," he said, "that I felt a passion for your sainted mother, such
as few men ever experience for any of your sex. Your father and
myself were suitors for her favour at the same time, though I can
scarcely say, Edward, that any feeling of rivalry entered into the
competition."

"You do me no more than justice, John, for if the affection of my
beloved Eve could cause me grief, it was because it brought you
pain."

"I had the additional mortification of approving of the choice she
made; for, certainly, as respected her own happiness, your mother did
more wisely in confiding it to the regulated, mild, and manly virtues
of your father, than in placing her hopes on one as eccentric and
violent as myself."

"This is injustice, John. You may have been positive, and a little
stern, at times, but never violent, and least of all with a woman."

"Call it what you will, it unfitted me to make one so meek, gentle,
and yet high-souled, as entirely happy as she deserved to be, and as
you did make her, while she remained on earth. I had the courage to
stay and learn that your father was