“In the name of Heaven,” said Maximilian, “if you know anything of him, tell us what it is.”

“Alas,” cried Monte Cristo, striving to repress his emotion, “if Lord Wilmore was your unknown benefactor, I fear you will never see him again. I parted from him two years ago at Palermo, and he was then on the point of setting out for the most remote regions; so that I fear he will never return.”

“Oh, monsieur, this is cruel of you,” said Julie, much affected; and the young lady’s eyes swam with tears.

“Madame,” replied Monte Cristo gravely, and gazing earnestly on the two liquid pearls that trickled down Julie’s cheeks, “had Lord Wilmore seen what I now see, he would become attached to life, for the tears you shed would reconcile him to mankind;” and he held out his hand to Julie, who gave him hers, carried away by the look and accent of the count.

“But,” continued she, “Lord Wilmore had a family or friends, he must have known someone, can we not⁠—”