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 he had not determined what character he was, to adopt while concealing that which was properly his own, he had an additional reason for remaining silent. Mrs Wilson, in perplexity, and with some, apprehension, repeated her question.

"What were ye pleased to want wi' me, sir? Ye said ye kenn'd Mr Harry Morton?"

"Pardon me, madam," answered Henry; "it was of one. Silas Morton I spoke."

The old woman's countenance fell.

"It was his father then ye kent o', the brother o' the late Milnwood,—ye canna mind him abroad, I wad think—he was come hame afore ye were born. I thought ye had brought me news of poor Maister Harry."

"It was from my father I learned to know Colonel Morton," said Henry; "of the son I knew little or nothing; rumour says he died abroad on his passage to Holland."

"That's ower like to be true, and mony