sion! What
portrait has its face turned to the wall in yonder gallery? Mr.
Justice Trevethlan, attaint of corruption. Heart! arms! Ay, but not in
peace. No Trevethlan wears a sword to adorn a levee. And now, sir, the
source of your commission would make it a disgrace."

"My father," Randolph again said, "to no patron will I be indebted for
advancement. On myself alone I rely. May I not exert the powers I
derive from nature? I thought not of the army: a uniform has no
temptations for me. But, gazing on the back of that picture, might I
not hope to wipe out the stain incurred in a corrupt age, by rising
to be an example in purer times?"

"Shall a Trevethlan descend among the paltry Chiquanous?" said the
dying man, with great bitterness. "Shall that name be mingled with the
low trickery of the modern forum; exposed to the risk of failure, and
to the mockery of upstart talent? Shall Esther Pendarrel smile at the
rude eloquence of her rejected suitor's heir, and exult over the
unretrieved ruin of his house? No, sir. Think it not. Starve, sir,
here in Trevethlan Castle."

"But my father," the young man urged, "if means could be found whereby
all such risk should be avoided; if success might restore our house,
while failure could not degrade it; might I not venture on a career so
guarded?"

"How, sir, is such a course practicable?"

"By permitting me, my father, for a time to wear a mask," answered
Randolph. "The name of Trevethlan may be supposed to be wandering
abroad, while the estates are recovering themselves at home; and the
real bearer of the name, assuming one less known, may live obscurely
in London, struggling honourably for an independence. If he fail, the
pilgrim returns: if he succeeds, he brings new honour to Trevethlan
Castle."

Mr. Trevethlan made no answer to this proposition for a considerable
time; and his son might see by the varying expression of his sharpened
features, the struggle which agitated his mind. At length he spoke, in
tones milder and more parental than he had used previously.

"Randolph, I consent. I have watched you well, and, in spite of the
taunts which break from my soured heart, I believe you are worthy of
your name."

"Father," said the son, "my life must show my gratitude: it shall be
passed, as if you still beheld it."

Again there was a long silence in the gloomy chamber. Then the dying
man spoke anew, in accents still tenderer than his last.

"Randolph, I mentioned Esth