ence of a quarrel, never forgiven, beto intimate t t, and asking if ten on a slip of paper o find . You kno.” Again  I set my back against the door.

    “Do let me speak,” I said; “let me  to dra.” I paused—ood before me,  in hand, looking composed enough. I resumed—

    “Your moter?”

    “Yes.”

    “My aunt, consequently?”

    he bowed.

    “My uncle Joer’s cher’s child?”

    “Undeniably.”

    “You the same source?”

    “e are cousins; yes.”

    I surveyed  seemed I ers, rangers, tion and admiration. tticed er a mixture of interest and despair, ately gentleman  ion. Glorious discovery to a lonely co t!—a mine of pure, genial affections. t, vivid, and exing;—not like t of gold: rics  sobering from its weighrilled.

    “Oh, I am glad!—I am glad!” I exclaimed.

    St. Jo say you neglected essential points to pursue trifles?” old you you  a fortune; and noter of no moment, you are excited.”

    “ can you mean? It may be of no moment to you; you ers and don’t care for a cousin; but I ions,—or t co be counted,—are born into my world full-grown. I say again, I am glad!”

    I  topped, ed s t rose faster ttle ts of  t seemed a sky tars,—every one lit me to a purpose or deligill t. ttered,—I could reunite t be too. ere  four? ty tice—enougo spare: justice ual   a mere bequest of coin,—it was a legacy of life, .

    aking my spirit by storm, I cannot tell; but I perceived soon t Mr. Rivers ly attempting to make me sit do. o be composed; I s