e," cried the Baronet;
"give back the letter, by Jove!"

"Read it--and look at her," Blanche cried, pointing to her mother;
"it--it was for her I kept the secret! Read it, cruel man!"

And Foker opened and read the letter:--

"I have not wrote, my darling Betsy, this three weeks; but this is to
give her a father's blessing, and I shall come down pretty soon as quick
as my note, and intend to see the ceremony, and my son-in-law. I shall
put up at Bonner's. I have had a pleasant autumn, and am staying here at
an hotel where there is good company, and which is kep' in good style. I
don't know whether I quite approve of your throwing over Mr. P. for Mr.
F., and don't think Foker's such a pretty name, and from your account of
him he seems a muff, and not a beauty. But he has got the rowdy, which
is the thing. So no more, my dear little Betsy, till we meet, from your
affectionate father, J. Amory Altamont."

"Read it, Lady Clavering; it is too late to keep it from you now," said
poor Foker; and the distracted woman, having cast her eyes over it,
again broke out into hysterical screams, and convulsively grasped her
son.

"They have made an outcast of you, my boy," she said. "They've
dishonoured your old mother; but I'm innocent, Frank; before God, I'm
innocent. I didn't know this, Mr. Foker; indeed, indeed, I didn't."

"I'm sure you didn't," said Foker, going up and kissing her hand.

"Generous, generous Harry!" cried out Blanche, in an ecstasy. But he
withdrew his hand, which was upon her side, and turned from her with a
quivering lip. "That's different," he says.

"It was for her sake--for her sake, Harry." Again Miss Amory is in an
attitude.

"There was something to be done for mine," said Foker. "I would have
taken you, whatever you were. Everything's talked about in London. I
knew that your father had come to--to grief. You don't think it was--it
was for your connexion I married you? D---- it all! I've loved you with
all my heart and soul for two years, and you've been playing with me,
and cheating me," broke out the young man, with a cry. "Oh, Blanche,
Blanche, it's a hard thing, a hard thing!" and he covered his face with
his hands, and sobbed behind them.

Blanche thought, "Why didn't I tell him that night when Arthur warned
me?"

"Don't refuse her, Harry," cried out Lady Clavering. "Take her, take
everything I have. It's all hers, you know, at my death. This boy's
disinherited."--(Master Frank, who had b