account for it--and curse me, if I don't
too."

"Luke Bradley!" interrupted Mrs. Mowbray--"are you that individual?"

"I have been so called, madam," replied Luke.

"Father Ambrose, is this the person of whom you spoke?" eagerly asked
the lady.

"So I conclude," returned the priest, evasively.

"Did he not call you Luke Rookwood?" eagerly demanded Eleanor. "Is that
also your name?"

"Rookwood is my name, fair cousin," replied Luke, "if I may venture to
call you so."

"And Ranulph Rookwood is----"

"My brother."

"I never heard he had a brother," rejoined Eleanor, with some agitation.
"How can that be?"

"I am his brother, nevertheless," replied Luke, moodily--"his ELDER
BROTHER!"

Eleanor turned to her mother and the priest with a look of imploring
anguish; she saw a confirmation of the truth of this statement in their
glances. No contradiction was offered by either to his statement; both,
indeed, appeared in some mysterious manner prepared for it. This, then,
was the dreaded secret. This was the cause of her brother's sudden
departure. The truth flashed with lightning swiftness across her brain.

Chagrined and mortified, Luke remarked that glance of inquiry. His pride
was hurt at the preference thus naturally shown towards his brother. He
had been struck, deeply struck, with her beauty. He acknowledged the
truth of Peter's words. Eleanor's loveliness was without parallel. He
had seen naught so fair, and the instant he beheld her, he felt that for
_her_ alone could he cancel his vows to Sybil. The spirit of rivalry and
jealousy was instantly aroused by Eleanor's exclamations.

"His elder brother!" echoed Eleanor, dwelling upon his words, and
addressing Luke--"then you must be--but no, you are not, you cannot
be--it is Ranulph's title--it is not yours--you are not----"

"I am Sir Luke Rookwood," replied Luke, proudly.

Ere the words were uttered Eleanor had fainted.

"Assistance is at hand, madam, if you will accept it, and follow me,"
said Luke, raising the insensible girl in his arms, and bearing her down
the hill towards the encampment, whither he was followed by Mrs. Mowbray
and the priest, between whom, during the hurried dialogue we have
detailed, very significant glances had been exchanged. Turpin, who, as
it may be supposed, had not been an incurious observer of the scene
passing, burst into his usual loud laugh on seeing Luke bear away his
lovely burden.

"Cousin! Ha, ha!" said he. "So th