er; "don't you see how like he is to you!--don't you _feel_ that
he is your own child?"

"I confess the paternal feelings are not very strong in me," said her
son, dryly, "but I have a fancy the boy is mine for all that. Haven't
you a letter or a remembrance of some sort to give me, young man?"

The boy shook his head.

"There may be something amongst his things--some book or trinket that
you would remember," said Janetta, speaking with timidity. Mr. Brand
gave her a keen look, and Mrs. Brand accepted the suggestion with
eagerness.

"Oh, yes, yes, let us look. Have you a box, my dear, or a bag?--oh, a
bundle, only: give it me, and let me see what is inside."

"It is unnecessary, mother," said Wyvis, coldly. "I am as convinced as
you can wish me to be that this is Juliet's child."

But Mrs. Brand, with trembling fingers and parted lips, was helping
Janetta to unfasten the knots of the big handkerchief in which the
child's worldly goods were wrapped up. Wyvis Brand stood silently beside
the two women, while little Julian pressed closer and pointed out his
various treasures as they were one by one disclosed.

"That's my book," he said; "and that's my best suit. And that's--oh, I
don't know what _that_ is. I don't know why mammy put it in."

"_I_ know," said Wyvis Brand, half under his breath.

The object that called forth this remark was a small morocco box,
loosely wrapped in tissue-paper. Wyvis took it out of his mother's hand,
opened it, and stood silently gazing at its contents. It held a ring, as
Janetta could easily see--a hoop of gold in which were three opals--not
a very large or costly-looking trinket, but one which seemed to have
memories or associations connected with it--to judge, at least, by the
look on Wyvis Brand's dark face. The women involuntarily held their
breath as they glanced at him.

At last with a short laugh, he slipped the little case into his pocket,
and turned upon his heel.

"I suppose that this is evidence enough," he said. "It is a ring I once
gave her--our engagement ring. Not one of much value, or you may be sure
that she would never have sent it back."

"Then you are convinced--you are certain----" His mother did not finish
the sentence, but her son knew what she meant.

"That he is my son? my wife's child? Oh, yes, I am pretty sure of that.
He had better be put to bed," said Wyvis, carelessly. "You can find a
room for him somewhere, I dare say."

"There is the old nurser