"tell
me of that wretched dream."

'Twas a romantic hope that had lingered with me despite my wish to
have it begone: but I would not tell this man. I had fancied, as what
lad would not? but with no actual longing, because of love for Judith,
that the ultimate revelation would lift me high in the world. But now,
in the presence of this gray personage, under his twinkle and pitying
grin, the fancy forever vanished from me. 'Twas comforting to know, at
any rate, that I might wed Judith without outrage. There would be
small difficulty, then, thinks I, in winning the maid; and 'twas most
gratifying to know it.

"Daniel," says he, in distress, "has that rascally Top misled you to
this ridiculously romantic conclusion?"

"No, sir," I answered.

"You are the son," he declared, with thin-lipped deliberation, by
which I was persuaded and sorely chagrined, "of Tom Callaway, who was
lost, with all hands but the chiefest rascal it has been my lot to
encounter, in the wreck of the _Will-o'-the-Wisp_. Tom Callaway,
master: he was your father. Your mother," he continued, "was a St.
John's water-side maid--a sweet and lovely wife, who died when you
were born. I was myself not indifferent to her most pure and tender
charms. There is your pedigree," says he, his voice fallen kind. "No
mystery, you see--no romance. Tom Callaway, master: he was your
father. This man Top," he snapped, "this vulgar, drunken, villanous
fellow, into whose hands you have unhappily fallen and by whose mad
fancies you will inevitably be ruined, is the sole survivor of the
_Will-o'-the-Wisp_, with which your father very properly went down. He
is nothing to you--nothing--neither kith nor kin! He is an intruder
upon you: he has no natural right to your affection; nor have you a
natural obligation to regard him. He has most viciously corrupted you
into the fantastic notion that you are of gentle and fortunate birth.
With what heart, in God's name!" the gray man cried, clapping his lean
hands in a passion, "he will face you when he must disclose the truth,
I cannot conceive. Mad! The man is stark mad: for tell you he must,
though he has in every way since your childhood fostered within you a
sense of honor that will break in contempt upon him! Your attitude, I
warn you, will work wretchedness to you both; you will accuse and
flout him. Daniel," the man solemnly asked, "do you believe me?"

I was glad to know that my mother had been both sweet and lovely.
'Twas