"You are getting sentimental, Vingo," and an expression of thought stole
over Harry's features, and he remained silent, for he could not bring
himself to disclose even to Vingo, his knowledge of the mystery in
regard to the fair creature who called him brother. He could not bear to
think that she was not his sister; and yet, had his memory not served
him thus, he must have observed how unlike she was to any member of
the family.

"Mother, you have looked very thoughtful for the last few days. I hope
that now we are together once more, there is nothing to disturb your
happiness," remarked Harry, as the two sat together on the little
promenade ground in front of the house, enjoying the beautiful sunset of
a summer's evening.

"There is nothing which makes me unhappy now, for although 'we know not
what a day may bring forth,' yet I have learned to smile under the most
trying dispensations of Providence, knowing that His ways are higher
than our ways; but," and her voice was hushed almost to a whisper,
"there has been something upon my mind of late, of which I would make
you a confidant, my son."

There was a pause,--well did Harry judge of what his mother would speak,
and looking into her face, he said,--"Natalie,--she is not my sister by
birth, yet I shall ever claim her as such; and I know, should she learn
that she was of other parentage to-morrow, she would cling to you,
mother, as her dearest earthly friend."

"And for that reason I know she is of noble birth. But tell me, Harry,
can it be that you, who was but a child, remember the circumstance?"