om Jasper has
induced to institute a search, that he has no means to institute very
actively himself, might make statements which (as you are already aware)
might persuade others, though well-meaning, to assist him in separating
her from you. He might publicly face even a police-court, if he thus
hoped to shame the rich man into buying off an intolerable scandal.
He might, in the first instance, and more probably, decoy her into
his power through stealth; and what might become of her before she
was recovered? Separate yourself from her for a time. It is you,
notwithstanding your arts of disguise, that can be the more easily
tracked. She, now almost a woman, will have grown out of recognition.
Place her in some secure asylum until, at least, you hear from me
again."

Waife read and re-read this epistle (to which there was no direction
that enabled him to reply) in the private room of a little coffee-house
to which he had retired from the gaze and pressure of the street. The
determination he had long brooded over now began to take shape--to be
hurried on to prompt decision. On recovering his first shock, he formed
and matured his plans. That same evening he saw Lady Montfort. He felt
that the time had come when, for Sophy's sake, he must lift the veil
from the obloquy on his own name. To guard against the same concession
to Jasper's authority that had betrayed her at Gatesboro', it was
necessary that he should explain the mystery of Sophy's parentage and
position to Lady Montfort, and go through the anguish of denouncing his
own son as the last person to whose hands she should be consigned. He
approached this subject not only with a sense of profound humiliation,
but with no unreasonable fear lest Lady Montfort might at once decline
a charge which would possibly subject her retirement to a harassing
invasion. But, to his surprise as well as relief, no sooner had he named
Sophy's parentage than Lady Montfort evinced emotions of a joy which
cast into the shade all more painful or discreditable associations.
"Henceforth, believe me," she said, "your Sophy shall be my own child,
my own treasured darling!--no humble companion--my equal as well as my
charge. Fear not that any one shall tear her from me. You are right
in thinking that my roof should be her home--that she should have the
rearing and the station which she is entitled as well as fitted to
adorn. But you must not part from her. I have listened to your tale;
my expe