capacity
in any direction, it could doubtless be turned to good account.
Meantime he had better dwell beneath this roof, and accustom
himself to new ways and new sights, after which they would talk of
his future again.

Nothing could be more to Cuthbert's mind than such a decision; but
when he tried to express his gratitude, he was speedily silenced.

"Not a word, boy; not a word! Thou art a near kinsman. Thou hast
had a hard life with thy father, and having claimed the protection
of thy mother's brother, shalt have it, and welcome. But now to
another matter. How art thou off for money? I trow by what thou
sayest of thy father that he had little to give or spend."

"He never gave me aught in his life save the poor clothes and food
that were needful. My uncle gave me a few gold pieces ere I left--I
mean my good cousin, Sir Richard."

"Ay, boy, ay. But I trow that thine own uncle can do better by thee
than that. Didst ever know that thy mother once looked to have a
fortune of her own, albeit a modest one?"

Cuthbert shook his head, and Martin rose from his seat and
disappeared from the room for a few minutes. When he came back he
had a coffer in his hands that seemed to be heavy. He placed it on
the table, and went on with his speech as though he had not been
interrupted.

"Yes. Our father was a man of substance, and he had but three
children--myself, Susan, and Bridget. To me he willed his house,
his business, and all the money locked up in that. To Susan and
Bridget he divided the savings of his lifetime that had not been
used in enlarging the business. There was two thousand pounds
apiece for them when he died."

Cuthbert's eyes dilated with astonishment, but he said nothing, and
his uncle continued speaking.

"You doubtless marvel why you have received none of this before. I
will tell you why. When Bridget married a Papist, our father was in
a great rage, and vowed she should never have a penny of his money.
He scratched her name out of his will, and bid us never speak her
name again. But as he lay a-dying, other thoughts came into his
mind, and he was unhappy in this thing. He bid me get together the
two thousand pounds that had once been Bridget's portion, and when
I did so--with some trouble at a short notice--he counted it all
over, and with his own hands locked it away in this chest "--laying
his hand on the weighty iron-bound box. "Then he turned to me and
said, 'Martin, I verily believe that thy si