Mr. Bates was rising to depart, when George Stevens gave Miss Ellstowe a significant look, who said, in a hesitating tone, “Mr. Bates, one moment before you go.  My friend, Mr. Stevens, has a communication to make to you respecting Mr. Garie, which will, I fear, cause you, as it already has me, deep distress.”

“Indeed!” rejoined Mr. Bates, in a tone of surprise; “What is it?  Nothing that reflects upon his character, I hope.”

“I do not know how my information will influence your conduct towards him, for I do not know what your sentiments may be respecting such persons.  I know society in general do not receive them, and my surprise was very great to find him here.”

“I do not understand you; what do you mean?” demanded Mr. Bates, in a tone of perplexity; “has he ever committed any crime?”

“HE IS A COLOURED MAN,” answered George Stevens, briefly.  Mr. Bates became almost purple, and gasped for breath; then, after staring at his informant for a few seconds incredulously, repeated the words “Coloured man,” in a dreamy manner, as if in doubt whether he had really heard them.

“Yes, coloured man,” said George Stevens, confidently; “it grieves me to be the medium of such disagreeable intelligence; and I assure you I only undertook the office upon the representation of Miss Ellstowe, that you were not aware of the fact, and would regard my communication as an act of kindness.”

“It—­it can’t be,” exclaimed Mr. Bates, with the air of a man determined not to be convinced of a disagreeable truth; “it cannot be possible.”

Hereupon George Stevens related to him what he had recently told Miss Ellstowe respecting the parentage and position of Clarence.  During the narration, the old man became almost frantic with rage and sorrow, bursting forth once or twice with the most violent exclamations; and when George Stevens concluded, he rose and said, in a husky voice—­

“I’ll kill him, the infernal hypocrite!  Oh! the impostor to come to my house in this nefarious manner, and steal the affections of my daughter—­the devilish villain! a bastard! a contemptible black-hearted nigger.  Oh, my child—­my child! it will break your heart when you know what deep disgrace has come upon you.  I’ll go to him,” added he, his face flushed, and his white hair almost erect with rage; “I’ll murder him—­there’s not a man in the city will blame me for it,” and he grasped his cane as though he would go at once, and inflict summary vengeance upon the offender.

“Stop, sir, don’t be rash,” exclaimed George Stevens; “I would not screen this fellow from the effects of your just and very natural indignation—­he is abundantly worthy of the severest punishment you can bestow; but if you go in your present excited state, you might be tempted to do something which would make this whole affair public, and injure, thereby, your daughter’s future.  You’ll pardon me, I trust, and not think me presuming upon my short acquaintance in making the suggestion.”