"
'My uncle, sir, I believe, who gave the book to my mother.'
'And your mother--your mother, who was she?'
'The daughter of a clergyman, sir.'
'I know that. But where--what--who?'
'That is what I don't know, sir.'
'Who did she marry? For God's sake tell me all, Gladys.'
'She ran away with my father, sir, an Irish soldier, a corporal named
O'Grady. She went abroad with him, and did not come back to Ireland for
two years.'
'And then--and her father--and--and her brother?'
'Her father was dead, sir, and nobody knew where her brother was.'
'Where did her father live?'
'Alas! sir, I cannot tell that either. We never talked to my poor mother
about him, because it made her so unhappy, and as he was dead, I had no
interest in asking for the address. All I know was, that she was Welsh;
and when she was dying, she told me to go into Wales and find my uncle.
I don't think she quite knew what she was saying, but I came.'
The tears gathered in Gladys' eyes, and hearing a strange heavy sigh
from Mr Jones, she looked up at him through their mist, and saw that he
was struggling to speak through some great emotion.
'Oh, sir! what is the matter?' said Gladys, rising and going towards him
as he stood, trembling, on the other side of her work-table.
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