not let either my son or daughter know of my exchangin’ the childre’, and palmin’ Thomas Gourlay’s own son on him as the son of his brother.  That saicret I kept to myself, knowin’ that I couldn’t trust them.  And now, Thomas Gourlay,” he said, “my revenge is complete.  There you stand, a guilty and a disgraced man; and with all your wisdom, and wealth, and power, what were you but a mere tool and puppet in my hands up to this hour?  There you stand, without a house that you can call your own—­stripped of your false title—­of your false property—­but not altogether of your false character, for the world knew pretty well what that was.”

Corbet’s daughter then came forward, and laying her hand on the baronet’s shoulder, said, “Do you know me, Thomas Gourlay?”

“No,” replied the other, looking at her with fury; “you are a spectre; I have seen you before; you appeared to me once, and your words were false.  Begone, you are a spectre—­a spirit of evil.”

“I am the spirit of death to you,” she replied; “but my prophetic announcement was true.  I called you Thomas Gourlay then, and I call you Thomas Gourlay now—­for such is your name; and your false title is gone.  That young man there, named after you, is my son, and you are his father—­for I am Jacinta Corbet:  so far my father’s words are true; and if it were not for his revenge, my son would have inherited your name, title, and property.  Here now I stand the victim of your treachery and falsehood, which for years have driven me mad.  But now the spirit of the future is upon me; and I tell you, that I read frenzy, madness, and death in your face.  You have been guilty of great crimes, but you will be guiltier of a greater and a darker still.  I read that in your coward spirit, for I know you well.  I also am revenged, but I have been punished; and my own sufferings have taught me to feel that I am still a woman.  I loved you once—­I hated you long; but now I pity you.  Yes, Thomas Gourlay, she whom you drove to madness, and imposture, and misery, for long years, can now look down upon you with pity!”

Having thus spoken, she left the room.

We may add here, in a few brief words, that the proof of the identity of each of the two individuals in question was clearly, legally, and most satisfactorily established; in addition to which, if farther certainty had been wanting, Lady Gourlay at once knew her son by a very peculiar mole on his neck, of a three-cornered shape, resembling a triangle.

The important events of the day, so deeply affecting Sir Thomas Gourlay and his family, had been now brought to a close; all the strangers withdrew, and Fenton’s body was brought up stairs and laid out.  Lady Emily and her father went home together; so did Roberts, now Sir Edward Gourlay, and his delighted and thankful mother.  Her confidence in the providence of God was at length amply rewarded, and the widow’s heart at last was indeed made to sing for joy.