"I found these words somewhat strange," continued Reuben, "but his true meaning never struck me--Oh," wailed the old man, clasping his hands, "it never struck me. My thoughts only turned to Scotland; for my master had been talking of going there to see a Scotch laird, a friend of his, and I believed he had now taken a sudden resolution to pay the visit; I thought he had pulled out his trunk to put in some things before I packed it. I asked him when he intended to start, and he replied that I should know all in the morning; and I went back to my bed." Robert sat down on the nearest chair: his eyes were strained on Reuben. Had he a foreshadowing of what was to come? "In the morning one of the women-servants came and woke me. Her face startled me the moment I opened my eyes; it was white and terror-stricken, and she asked me what that stream of red meant that had trickled from under the door of the master's chamber. I went there when I had put a thing or two on. Master Robert," he added, dropping his voice to a dread whisper, his thoughts wholly back in the past, "he had indeed gone on his long journey." "Was he dead?" "He had been dead for hours. The razor was lying beside him near the door. I have never quite got over that dreadful sight: and the thought has always haunted me that, had I understood his meaning properly, it might have been prevented." "His trunk--what did he get that out for?" asked Robert, after a pause. "To blind me, sir--as I have believed since--while he gave the message." "Why did he commit the deed?" gloomily continued Robert, whom the account seemed to have partially sobered. "He had fallen into the clutches of the same sort of people that you have, sir, and they had fleeced him down to beggary and shame, and he had not the resolution to leave them, and face the poverty; that was why he did it. His worst enemy was Captain Haughton. He is Colonel Haughton now." "What do you mean?" cried Robert Dalrymple, after a pause of astonishment. "Yes, sir, the same man. He is your evil genius, and he was your uncle's before you. The last time I saw him, in the old days, was when we both stood together over my master's dead body; he came in, along with others. 'He must have been stark mad,' was his exclamation. 'Perhaps so, Captain Haughton,' I answered, 'but the guilt lies on those who drove him so.' He took my meaning, and he slunk away out of the room. Mr. Robert," added the old man, the tears streaming down his cheeks, "do you know what I like to fancy--and to hope?" Robert lifted his eyes. "Why, that the _punishment_ will lie with these wretched tempters, as well as the guilt. The good God is just and merciful." Robert did not speak. Reuben resumed.