n or
Basildene -- the name of some fair spot, I trow, where she must once
have lived. Gaston, canst thou remember the day when she called us to
her, and joined our hands together, and spoke of us as 'the twin
brothers of Basildene'? I have scarce thought of it from that hour to
this, but it comes back now clearly to my mind. In sooth, it might well
have been of Basildene she was thinking when she gave us that last
charge. What could she have known or cared for Saut and its domain? She
had fled hither from England, I know not why. She knew but little of the
ways and the thoughts of those amongst whom she had come to dwell. It
might well have been of her own land that she was thinking so oft. I
verily believe that Basildene is our lost inheritance."

"Basildene!" said Gaston quickly, with a start as of recollection
suddenly stirred to life; "sure I remember the name right well now that
thy words bring it back to mind. Yet it is years since I have heard it
spoke. Raymond, knowest thou where is this Basildene?"

"In England, I well believe," was the answer of the other brother.
"Methinks it was the name of our mother's home. I seem to remember how
she told us of it -- the old house over the sea, where she had lived.
Perchance it was once her own in very sooth, and some turbulent baron or
jealous kinsman drove her forth from it, even as we of the house of De
Brocas have been ousted from the Castle of Saut. Brother, if that be so,
Basildene is more our inheritance than yon gloomy fortress can be. We
are our mother's only children, and when she joined our hands together
she called us the twins of Basildene. I trow that we have an inheritance
of our very own, Gaston, away over the blue water yonder."

Gaston's eyes flashed with sudden ardour and purpose.

Often of late had the twins talked together of the future that lay
before them, of the doughty deeds they would accomplish; yet so far
nothing of definite purpose had entered into their minds. Gaston's
dreams had been all of the ancient fortress of Saut, now for long years
passed into the hands of the hostile family, the terrible and
redoubtable Sieur de Navailles, who was feared throughout the length and
breadth of the country round about his house. Raymond had been dimly
conscious of other thoughts and purposes, but memory was only gradually
recalling to his mind the half-forgotten days of childhood, when the
twin eaglets had stood at their mother's knee to talk with her