hen shall I have such pleasure--when shall I find out who is my
father?" My brow was clouded as the thought entered my mind, when Lady
de Clare requested that I would inform her who it was to whom she and
her daughter were under such eternal obligations. I had then to relate
my own eventful history, most of which was as new to Cecilia (as she now
must be called) as it was to her mother. I had just terminated the
escape from the castle, when Mr Masterton's carriage drove up to the
door. As soon as he had bowed to Lady de Clare, he said to me, "Japhet,
here is a letter directed to you, to my care, from Ireland which I have
brought for you."

"It is from Kathleen McShane, sir," replied I, and requesting leave, I
broke the seal. It contained another. I read Kathleen's, and then
hastily opened the other. It was from Nattee, or Lady H. de Clare, and
ran as follows--

"Japhet Newland,--Fleta is the daughter of Sir William
de Clare. Dearly has my husband paid for his act of folly and
wickedness, and to which you must know I never was a party.

"Yours,

"Nattee."

The letter from Kathleen added more strange information. Lady de Clare,
after the funeral of her husband had sent for the steward, made every
necessary arrangement, discharged the servants, and then had herself
disappeared, no one knew whither; but it was reported that somebody very
much resembling her had been seen travelling south in company with a
gang of gipsies. I handed both letters over to Lady de Clare and Mr
Masterton.

"Poor Lady de Clare!" observed the mother.

"Nattee will never leave her tribe," observed Cecilia quietly.

"You are right, my dear," replied I. "She will be happier with her
tribe where she commands as a queen, than ever she was at the castle."

Mr Masterton then entered into a detail with Lady de Clare as to what
steps ought immediately to be taken, as the heirs-at-law would otherwise
give some trouble; and having obtained her acquiescence, it was time to
withdraw. "Mr Newland, I trust you will consider us as your warmest
friends. I am so much in your debt, that I never can repay you; but I
am also in your debt in a pecuniary way--that, at least, you must permit
me to refund."

"When I require it, Lady de Clare, I will accept it. Do not, pray, vex
me by the proposition. I have not much happiness as it is, although I
am rejoiced at yours and that of your daughter."

"Come, Lady de Clare, I must not allow