ghter's hand, and you also understand the nature of my private
communication yesterday with your uncle."

"But, my lord, how did your brother become aware of the circumstances
you have just mentioned?"

"Through Mrs. Mainwaring, who thought it unjust that a profligate should
inherit so much property, with so bad a title to it, whilst there were
virtuous and honorable men to claim it justly; such are the words of a
note on the subject which I have received from her this very morning.
Thus it is that vice often punishes itself. Now, Sir Edward, I am ready
to hear you."

"My lord," replied Sir Edward, "the case is so peculiar, so completely
out of the common course, that, morally speaking, I cannot look upon
your children as illegitimate. I have besides great doubts whether the
prejudice of the world, or its pride, which visits upon the head of the
innocent child the error, or crime if you will, of the guilty parent,
ought to be admitted as a principle of action in life."

"Yes," replied the earl; "but on the other hand, to forbid it altogether
might tend to relax some of the best principles in man and woman. Vice
must frequently be followed up for punishment even to its consequences
as well as its immediate acts, otherwise virtue were little better than
a name. For this, however, there is a remedy--an act of parliament must
be procured to legitimatize my children. I shall take care of that,
although I may not live to see it," *

* This was done, and the circumstance is still remembered by
many persons in the north of Ireland.

"Be that as it may, my lord, I cannot but think that in the eye of
religion and morality your children are certainly legitimate; all that
is against them being a point of law. For my part, I earnestly beg to
renew my proposal for the hand of Lady Emily."

"Then, Sir Edward, you do not feel yourself deterred by anything I have
stated?"

"My lord, I love Lady Emily for her own sake--and for her own sake
only."

"Then," replied her father, "bring her here. I feel very weak--I am
getting heavy. Yesterday's disclosures gave me a shock which I fear
will--but I trust I am prepared--go--remember, however, that my darling
child knows nothing of what I have mentioned to you--Dunroe does. I had
not courage to tell her that she has been placed by her father's pride,
by his ambition, and by his want of moral restraint, out of the pale of
life. Go, and fetch her here."

That they approached