a sister’s love; but that is not all—­I believe him to be so essentially corrupt and vicious in heart and soul, so thoroughly and blackly diabolical in his principles—­moral I cannot call them—­that I would stake my existence he is some base and plotting impostor, in whose veins there flows not one single drop of my pure-hearted mother’s blood.  I therefore warn you, sir, that he is an impostor, with, perhaps, a dishonorable title to your name, but none at all to your property.”

“Nonsense, you foolish girl.  Is he not my image?”

“I admit he resembles you, sir, very much, and I do not deny that he may be”—­she paused, and alternately became pale and red by turns—­“what I mean to say, sir, is what I have already said, that he is not my mother’s son, and that although he may be privileged to bear your name, he has no claim on either your property or title.  Does it not strike you, sir, that it might be to make way for this person that my legitimate brother was removed long ago?  And I have also heard yourself say frequently, while talking of my brother, how extremely like mamma and me he was.”

“There is no doubt he was,” replied her father, somewhat struck by the force of her observations; “and I was myself a good deal surprised at the change which must have taken place in him since his childhood.  However, you know he accounted for this himself very fairly and very naturally.”

“Very ingeniously, at least,” she replied; “with more of ingenuity, I fear, than truth.  Now, sir, hear me further.  You are aware that I never liked those Corbets, who have been always so deeply, and, excuse me, sir, so mysteriously in your confidence.”

“Yes, Lucy, I know you never did; but that is a prejudice you inherited from your mother.”

“I appeal to your own conscience, sir, whether mamma’s prejudice against them was not just and well founded.  Yet it was not so much prejudice as the antipathy which good bears to evil, honesty to fraud, and truth to darkness, dissimulation, and falsehood.  I entreat you, then, to investigate this matter, papa; for as sure as I have life, so certainly was my dear brother removed, in order, at the proper time, to make way for this impostor.  You know not, sir, but there may be a base and inhuman murder involved in this matter—­nay, a double murder—­that of my cousin, too; yes, and the worst of all murders, the murder of the innocent and defenceless.  As a man, as a magistrate, but, above all, a thousand times, as a father—­as the father and uncle of the very two children that have disappeared, it becomes your duty to examine into this dark business thoroughly.”

“I have no reason to suspect the Corbets, Lucy.  I have ever found them faithful to me and to my interests.”

“I know, sir, you have ever found them obsequious and slavish and ready to abet you in many acts which I regret that you ever committed.  There is the case of that unfortunate man, Trailcudgel, and many similar ones; were they not as active and cheerful! in bearing out your very harsh orders against him and others of your tenantry, as if they I had been advancing the cause of humanity?”