"
"Stay, stay, Hatchie!" exclaimed Dr. Vandelier, who at that moment
entered. "_He is my son_!"
"Good heavens!" said Emily, rising from her recumbent posture on the
sofa.
"It is indeed true," replied the doctor, in a melancholy tone. "I would
that he had died in the innocency of his childhood. I recognized him as
he entered the house, and had nearly lost my consciousness, as the
terrible reality stared me in the face, that my son, he whose childhood
I had watched over, who once called me by the endearing name of father,
is a common midnight assassin!
"Is he your persecutor?" continued the doctor, relieved by an abundant
shower of tears which the terrible truth had called to his eyes. "Is he
the person who has caused you so much trouble?"
"No, no, sir!" responded Emily, eager to afford the slightest comfort to
the bereaved heart of the father; "he only acted for Maxwell."
"A hired villain! without even the paltry excuse of an interested motive
to palliate the offence. O God! that I should be brought so low!"--and
the doctor wrung his hands in anguish.
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