have squeezed it), that she will not tell me a
word about them yet; so, I only gather what I can from her cautious
garrulity, hints about a Begum and a captain, and the Stuarts, and a
Putty-what-d'ye-call-it. And it is all in document, as well as
_viva-voce_ (this means 'gossip,' dear). So now you may be expecting us,
as soon as ever we can get to you. Tell the general all this, and give
him my best love, next after your's Emmy; for he is my father still, and
my very heart yearns after him: O, that he were kinder with me as I see
he is with you, dear, and more open with us all! Also, kiss, if she will
let you, my mother for me, and I hope you will have hinted to her long
ago, that I am only playing truant. How is poor--poor Julian? he will
understand me, if you tell him I forgive him, and will never say one
word about our little tiff. And now dearest Emmy--"

[The remainder of this letter must, believe me, be as starry as before.]

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXII.

REVELATIONS.

General Tracy gave a long-drawn sigh: and tears--tears of true
affection--stood in those most fish-like eyes, as he mournfully said,
"Bless him, bless dear Charles, almost as much as you, my own sweet
Emmy. Heaven send it be true--for Heaven can work miracles. But without
a miracle, Emily, in sober sadness I declare it, you must forget--_your
brother Charles, my daughter_!"

Emily fell flat upon her face, so cold, so white, that he believed her
dead.

Oh! that he had never--never said that word: or better still, poor
father, that you had never kept the dreadful secret from them. The
adultery, indeed, was sin; but years of ill-concealings have multiplied
its punishment. Wretched father--wretched children! that must bear an
erring father's curse.

Oh! that Jeanie Mackie may have reasons, proofs; and be not an impostor
after all, dressing up a tale that over-sanguine Charles may bring her
back again to Scotland. Well--well! I am full of sadness and
perplexities: but we shall hear it out anon. Heaven help them!

Emily was taken very ill, and had a long fit of sickness. Day and
night--night and day, did her poor wasting anxious father watch by her
bed-side, gentle as the gentlest nurse--tender as the tenderest of
mothers. And, indeed, the Lord of Life and Wisdom was gracious to them
both; raising up the poor weak child again; and teaching that old man,
through this daughter of his shame and sin in youth, tha