As the writer said this, he pushed the parchment before his cousin’s eyes; she could scarcely see for her tears, as she called to mind the last time, and under what miserable circumstances, she had seen the document. And then a curious thing occurred. As Evelyn looked, she fancied she saw the name of her brother Wilfred written in clear, bold characters in the space it had formerly occupied before it was erased by her father’s hand. The characters faded as she gazed fixedly upon them, and at length totally disappeared; but the impression that she had really seen them remained firmly fixed upon her mind. Evelyn knew the whole affair must have been an illusion of the eyes or brain, but, nevertheless, the circumstance strangely comforted her; and she dried her tears, and apologised to her cousin for the weakness she had exhibited. Tresham, who at first had noticed her fixed gaze, was astonished at her sudden change of demeanour, and asked the reason of it. “It was only my fancy,” she made answer, “but I imagined I saw the name of my poor brother who was drowned at sea in the place which my father had scratched it out, when he was angry with him.” “The deuce you did!” exclaimed Tresham, brutally; and then he carefully examined the pedigree in the place indicated, but he could see nothing. Nevertheless, he seemed strangely disturbed. “It was only my fancy,” said Evelyn; “I suppose my nerves are not so good as they were before all these troubles came upon me.” “Well,” retorted Tresham, “I wish you’d keep your nerves to yourself, that’s all; and what’s more, if you can’t manage that, you and I will fall out one of these days, my pretty cousin. I don’t keep a lodging-house for women with weak nerves, hang me if I do;” and with this civil speech, the speaker stumped out of the room. Left alone, Evelyn took up the emblazoned scroll and narrowly examined it, but the place from whence her father had elided the much-loved name, and to which, they thought, he had wished on his deathbed to restore it, was white and blank. “It must have been a mistake, and yet----” Evelyn could not reason about the circumstance, but somehow she felt comforted, and she retired to rest with a less heavy heart than she had as yet borne with her to her weary couch. CHAPTER XVI. LAST DAYS AT HOLMCASTLE.