ssarily born in wedlock. But this lady was very grateful to
the nurse for the care shown to her infant, who was very sickly; and
promised to take the nurse, and the nurse's husband also, into her
service. The nurse states that she herself was very poor; that the
lady's offer appeared to her like a permanent provision; that the life
of this artiste's infant was of the utmost value to her--the life of my
poor daughter's child of comparative insignificance. But the infant of
the artiste died, and the nurse's husband put it into his wife's head to
tell your son (then a widower, and who had seen so little of his child
as to be easily deceived), that it was his infant who died. The nurse
shortly afterwards removed to Paris, taking with her to the artiste's
house the child who in reality was my daughter's."

"It seems very probable, does it not--does it not?" said the ex-comedian
eagerly.

"It seems to me," replied the ex-lawyer, "very probable that a witness,
entering into court with the confession of one villanous falsehood,
would have little scruple to tell another. But I proceed. This rich and
liberal artiste dies; the nurse's conscience then suddenly awakens--she
sees Mr. Hammond--she informs him of the fraud she has practised. A lady
of rank, who had known Matilda, and had seen both the infants when both
were living under the nurse's charge, and observed them more attentively
than your son had done--corroborates the woman's story, stating that the
artiste's child had dark eyes instead of blue; that the artiste herself
was never deceived--but, having taken a great fancy to the spurious
infant, was willing to receive and cherish it as her own; and that she
knows several persons who will depose that they heard the artiste say
that the child was not her own. On this evidence your son takes to
himself this child--and this child is your Sophy--and you wish me to
acknowledge her as my daughter's offspring. Do not look me so earnestly
in the face, my dear and respected guest. It was when you read in my
face what my lips shrank from uttering that your emotions overcame your
strength, and your very mind deserted you. Now, be firmer. Your Sophy
has no need of me--she is under your charge, and your name is cleared.
She has found a friend--a protectress--in her own sex. Lady Montfort's
rank gives to her a position in the world as high as I could offer; and
as to mere pecuniary provision for her, make your mind easy--it shall be
secu