those noble faces in which Nature has written her grant and warranty
of the lordship of creation.

"Pardon me," he said, "if I disturb you. But my business will be short.
I have come to ask you, sir, frankly, and as one who has a right to ask
it, what tidings you can give me of Sidney Morton?"

"Sir, I know nothing whatever about him. He was taken from my house,
about twelve years since, by his brother. Myself, and the two Mr.
Beauforts, and another friend of the family, went in search of them
both. My search failed."

"And theirs?"

"I understood from Mr. Beaufort that they had not been more successful.
I have had no communication with those gentlemen since. But that's
neither here nor there. In all probability, the elder of the boys--who,
I fear, was a sad character--corrupted and ruined his brother; and, by
this time, Heaven knows what and where they are."

"And no one has inquired of you since--no one has asked the brother of
Catherine Morton, nay, rather of Catherine Beaufort--where is the child
intrusted to your care?"

This question, so exactly similar to that which his superstition
had rung on his own ears, perfectly appalled the worthy alderman. He
staggered back-stared at the marked and stern face that lowered upon
him--and at last cried,--

"For pity's sake, sir, be just! What could I do for one who left me of
his own accord?--"

"The day you had beaten him like a dog. You see, Mr. Morton, I know
all."

"And what are you?" said Mr. Morton, recovering his English courage, and
feeling himself strangely browbeaten in his own house;--"What and
who are you, that you thus take the liberty to catechise a man of my
character and respectability?"

"Twice mayor--" began Mrs. Morton.

"Hush, mother!" whispered Miss Margaret,--"don't work him up."

"I repeat, sir, what are you?"

"What am I?--your nephew! Who am I? Before men, I bear a name that I
have assumed, and not dishonoured--before Heaven I am Philip Beaufort!"

Mrs. Morton dropped down upon her stool. Margaret murmured "My cousin!"
in a tone that the ear of the musical coal-merchant might not have
greatly relished. And Mr. Morton, after a long pause, came up with a
frank and manly expression of joy, and said:--

"Then, sir, I thank Heaven, from my heart, that one of my sister's
children stands alive before me!"

"And now, again, I--I whom you accuse of having corrupted and ruined
him--him for whom I toiled and worked--him, who was to me, then