danger; and immediately that the announcement was made, he caused
himself to be removed from the smaller but more commodious apartment
which he usually occupied, to the dreary greatness of the
state-chamber, taking no heed of the remonstrance that the change
would probably hasten his dissolution.

"Pshaw!" said he. "What matter a few days? The Trevethlans always die
in the state-rooms."

Accordingly their present representative was duly observing the
custom. Four days had elapsed since his removal, and he had sunk so
rapidly, that it was now doubtful whether as many more hours remained
to him; but his mental faculties were still clear and unclouded. His
son and daughter watched mournfully by his bedside.

"Helen," he said, "Helen Trevethlan, I wish to speak with your
brother. Leave us for a while."

The girl rose silently, and glided out of the room. As soon as she had
closed the door, the dying man turned feebly upon his pillows, fixed
his still bright eyes upon his son, and spoke in low but distinct
accents:

"Randolph, I leave you a beggar and a Trevethlan! May my curse cling
to you, if ever you suffer poverty to tamper with pride. Employment
will be open to you: may your appointment be your death-warrant. Ay,
methinks it may raise my ghost, if Randolph Trevethlan accept a favour
from Philip Pendarrel. Live, sir, here, as I have lived. Marry, sir,
as I married. Rear an heir to the castle, as I have reared you.
Bequeath him the same legacy, which I bequeath you. But there is my
fear. How much of your mother's blood runs in your veins? What base
leanings may you not have inherited from her? Feel you not a love for
your peasant relatives? Gratifying my revenge by engrafting a wild bud
on a noble stem, I forgot that the fruit might degenerate. Speak, sir,
is it so? Do the honours of Trevethlan descend upon a dastard? Say it,
that a father's curse may embitter the remainder of your days."

"Oh, my father," said the young man, in deep and earnest tones, "never
shall our name be degraded while it belongs to me. But may I not
strive to restore it to splendour? Must Trevethlan ever be desolate?
Shall the successors of our race wander in these halls, only to mourn
over their decay? And is the livery of office the sole passport to the
means of renovation? Have I not hands, and a head, and heart?"

"What would you, sir?" exclaimed the father. "Hands! would you dig?
There speaks your peasant mother. Head! learning! profes