The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 50: what you’re looking at

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THE HEIR oO of actions the vilest and the basest that entertain kindred suspicions of others; but in the solemn circumstances which have brought you hither, sir, I will raise no subject: for inde- corous altercation. Nay, I will even admit that it is natural for you to insist upon receiving those proofs to which you have alluded.” “ Perhaps, then, your ladyship,” said Ralph, “ will con- descend to explain how you recovered possession of your son; because, well-meaning and honourably intentioned as your ladyship may be, guarantees must be afforded that no deception has been practised toward yourself by any one who may have been instrumental in consigning that child to your care.”’ ‘“ Sir,’ answered Lady Saxondale, “‘ this interview is for many reasons too painful to be prolonged, and therefore you will pardon me for declining to enter upon any verbal ex- planations at all. Nature herself has afforded the means of giving you the best proof that can possibly exist. This gentleman,” she added, flinging a glance toward the surgeon, ‘received my son at its birth, and can no doubt testify to its identity with the child I now hold in my arms.”’ Thus speaking, Lady Saxondale sat down, and retaining the babe upon her lap, she calmly and deliberately proceeded to unfasten its clothing. Ralph watched her with a suspense that was truly awful to endure. He watched her thus, not only with intense anxiety to see whether the mark would actually appear upon the child’s shoulder, but also did he watch her to observe whether any trouble was in her own looks, any betrayal on her part of conscious deception. But no, a grave solemnity sat upon her handsome counte- nance, and not a finger trembled, nor even appeared to hesitate to do its work, as she unfastened the strings of the babe’s clothing. This process did not occupy more than half a minute, but in Ralph’s estimation it seemed whole hours, and therein were concentrated the agonies, the tor- tures, and the excruciations of centuries. At length it was done, the garments were pulled down, and the mark of the strawberry appeared upon the child’s shoulder. Ralph felt annihilated. He moved not, he spoke not, he scarcely seemed to breathe; but statue-like he stood trans- fixed, unutterable thoughts working upon his ghastly counte- nance. At the same time, the surgeon, with the methodical ) CONNIE OOOkKS (S(O)