; it is enough for me that I am
convinced such is the case: my lips are sealed to her for ever upon
the subject; but I cannot recognise the necessity of this constraint
to others. For a long time I was kept in ignorance whether I had
a father or not. I have discovered, no matter how, who he was. I
believe, pardon me, my dearest friend, I cannot help believing, that
you were acquainted, or, at least, that you know something of him; and
I entreat you! yes,' repeated Venetia with great emphasis, laying
her hand upon his arm, and looking with earnestness in his face, 'I
entreat you, by all your kind feelings to my mother and myself, by all
that friendship we so prize, by the urgent solicitation of a daughter
who is influenced in her curiosity by no light or unworthy feeling;
yes! by all the claims of a child to information which ought not to be
withheld from her, tell me, tell me all, tell me something! Speak, Dr.
Masham, do speak!'

'My dear young lady,' said the Doctor, with a glistening eye, 'it is
better that we should both be silent.'

'No, indeed,' replied Venetia, 'it is not better; it is not well that
we should be silent. Candour is a great virtue. There is a charm, a
healthy charm, in frankness. Why this mystery? Why these secrets? Have
they worked good? Have they benefited us? O! my friend, I would not
say so to my mother, I would not be tempted by any sufferings to pain
for an instant her pure and affectionate heart; but indeed, Doctor
Masham, indeed, indeed, what I tell you is true, all my late illness,
my present state, all, all are attributable but to one cause, this
mystery about my father!'

'What can I tell you?' said the unhappy Masham.

'Tell me only one fact. I ask no more. Yes! I promise you, solemnly I
promise you, I will ask no more. Tell me, does he live?'

'He does!' said the Doctor. Venetia sank upon his shoulder.

'My dear young lady, my darling young lady!' said the Doctor; 'she has
fainted. What can I do?' The unfortunate Doctor placed Venetia in a
reclining posture, and hurried to a brook that was nigh, and brought
water in his hand to sprinkle on her. She revived; she made a struggle
to restore herself.

'It is nothing,' she said, 'I am resolved to be well. I am well. I am
myself again. He lives; my father lives! I was confident of it! I will
ask no more. I am true to my word. O! Doctor Masham, you have always
been my kind friend, but you have never yet conferred on me a favour
like t