say I am glad to
see you; Lord bless you, what a fine youth you be grown! 'Tis a long
time since I saw you; but that is not my fault; many a cross word,
and many a blow, have I had on your account; but I may now venture to
embrace my dear child."

Edmund came forward and embraced her fervently; the starting tears,
on both sides, evinced their affection. "And why," said he, "should
my father forbid you to embrace your child? what have I ever done to
deserve his hatred?"

"Nothing, my dear boy! you were always good and tender-hearted, and
deserved the love of every body."

"It is not common," said Edmund, "for a parent to hate his first-born
son without his having deserved it."

"That is true," said Oswald; "it is uncommon, it is unnatural; nay, I
am of opinion it is almost impossible. I am so convinced of this truth,
that I believe the man who thus hates and abuses Edmund, cannot be his
father." In saying this, he observed her countenance attentively; she
changed colour apparently. "Come," said he, "let us sit down; and do
you, Margery, answer to what I have said."

"Blessed Virgin!" said Margery, "what does your reverence mean? what do
you suspect?"

"I suspect," said he, "that Edmund is not the son of Andrew your
husband."

"Lord bless me!" said she, "what is it you do suspect?"

"Do not evade my question, woman! I am come here by authority to examine
you upon this point."

The woman trembled every joint. "Would to Heaven!" said she, "that
Andrew was at home!"

"It is much better as it is," said Oswald; "you are the person we are to
examine."

"Oh, father," said she, "do you think that I--that I--that I am to blame
in this matter? what have I done?"

"Do you, sir," said he, "ask your own questions."

Upon this, Edmund threw himself at her feet, and embraced her knees.
"O my mother!" said he, "for as such my heart owns you, tell me for the
love of Heaven! tell me, who was my father?"

"Gracious Heaven!" said she, "what will become of me?"

"Woman!" said Oswald, "confess the truth, or you shall be compelled to
do it; by whom had you this youth?"

"Who, I?" said she; "I had him! No, father, I am not guilty of the black
crime of adultery; God, He knows my innocence; I am not worthy to be the
mother of such a sweet youth as that is."

"You are not his mother, then, nor Andrew his father?"

"Oh, what shall I do?" said Margery; "Andrew will be the death of me!"

"No, he shall not," said Edmund; "you