away from my true condition; but I was wholly unused to equivocation.
Never yet had a lie polluted my lips. I was not weak enough to be
ashamed of my origin. This lady had an interest in the fate of
Clavering, and might justly claim all the information which I was able
to impart. Yet to forget the compact which I had so lately made, and an
adherence to which might possibly be in the highest degree beneficial to
me and to Welbeck; I was willing to adhere to it, provided falsehood
could be avoided.

These thoughts rendered me silent. The pain of my embarrassment amounted
almost to agony. I felt the keenest regret at my own precipitation in
claiming the picture. Its value to me was altogether imaginary. The
affection which this lady had borne the original, whatever was the
source of that affection, would prompt her to cherish the copy, and,
however precious it was in my eyes, I should cheerfully resign it to
her.

In the confusion of my thoughts an expedient suggested itself
sufficiently inartificial and bold. "It is true, madam, what I have
said. I saw him breathe his last. This is his only legacy. If you wish
it I willingly resign it; but this is all that I can now disclose. I am
placed in circumstances which render it improper to say more."

These words were uttered not very distinctly, and the lady's vehemence
hindered her from noticing them. She again repeated her interrogations,
to which I returned the same answer.

At first she expressed the utmost surprise at my conduct. From this she
descended to some degree of asperity. She made rapid allusions to the
history of Clavering. He was the son of the gentleman who owned the