erest that gradually
grew into anxiety. At length he made a motion to attract the duke's
attention--dropped a book upon the floor, picked it up, and arose to
apologize.

The duke started as from a profound reverie, sighed heavily, passed his
handkerchief across his brow, and finally wheeled his chair around, and
looked at his visitor.

No! there could be no question about it; the boy was the living image of
what he himself had been at that age, as all his portraits could prove!
and his eldest son, his rightful heir, stood before him, but forever and
irrecoverably disinherited and delegalized by his own rash and cruel act.

The young man stood up as if naturally waiting to hear what the duke
might have to say about his mother's letter.

But the duke did not immediately allude to the letter.

"Where are you stopping, my young friend?" he asked, in as calm a voice
as he could command.

"At 'Langhams,' your grace," respectfully answered the youth.

"Very well. I will call and see you at your rooms to-morrow at eleven,
and we will talk over your mother's plans and see what can be done for
you," said the duke, as he touched the bell, and sank back heavily in his
chair.

The young man understood that the interview was closed, and he was about
to take his leave, when the door opened and a footman appeared.

"Truman, attend this young gentleman to the breakfast-room, and place
refreshments before him. I hope that you will take something before you
go, sir," said the duke, kindly.

"Thanks. I trust your grace will permit me to decline. It is scarce two
hours since I breakfasted," said the boy, with a bow.

"As you please, young sir," answered the duke.

The youth then bowed and withdrew, attended by the footman.

The duke watched them through the door, listened to their retreating
steps down the hall, and then threw his clasped hands to his head,
groaning:

"Great Heaven! What have I done? What foul injustice to her, what cruel
wrong to him. I thank her that she has never told him! I can never do so!
Nay, Heaven forbid that he should ever even suspect the truth! Nor must I
ever permit him to come here again; or to any house of mine, where the
duchess, where _his brother_, where every servant even must see the
likeness he bears to the family, and--discover, or, at least, suspect
the secret!"

Meanwhile the youth, respectfully attended by the footman, left the
house.

As he entered his cab that was waiting at t