t I have no memory of him. I have no relatives at all. That
is the reason why my dear mother, on her death-bed, gave me that letter
of introduction to your grace, who used to know her, so that I might not
be without friends as well as without relatives," modestly replied the
youth.

"Ah! I see! I see! And she wrote this letter on her death-bed, which
gives it a grave importance. I must therefore pay the more respect to it.
The wishes of the dying should be considered sacred," said the duke, as
he adjusted his glass and looked at the letter, wondering who the writer
could be and what claims she could possibly have on him; but feeling too
kindly toward the orphan-boy to let such thought betray itself.

He scrutinized the handwriting of the letter. He could not recognize the
faint, scratchy, uncertain characters as anything he had ever seen
before. After all, the whole thing might be an imposture, and he himself
an exceedingly great dupe, to suffer his feelings to be enlisted by a
perfect stranger, merely because that stranger happened to be a
counterpart of his own idolized boy Arondelle.

Still dallying with the note, he looked again at the youth, and as he
looked, his confidence in him revived. No boy of such a noble countenance
could possibly be an impostor. He might have satisfied himself at once,
by opening the note and reading the signature; but from some occult
reason that even he could not have given, he held it in his hands for
a few moments longer, as if it contained some oracle he dreaded to
discover. At length he broke the seal and looked at the signature.
It was a faint maze of scratches, so difficult to decipher that he gave
it up in despair, and turning to the boy, said:

"Your name is Scott, young sir?"

"Yes, your grace--a very common name," modestly replied the youth.

"It is ours also" added the duke with a smile.

"I beg your grace's pardon," said the boy, with some embarrassment.

"No offence, young sir. Your mother's name was also Scott, I presume?"

"Yes, your grace; my mother never re-married."

"Ah," said the duke, and he turned the letter for the first page, and
commenced its perusal.

And then--

Reader! If the Duke of Hereward's hair had not already been white with
age, it must have turned as white as snow with amazement and horror as he
read the astounding disclosures of that dying woman's letter!

CHAPTER XLI.

FATHER AND SON.

The first part of the letter was writte