He ceased, and my heart was very heavy. Through every word he uttered, and in his whole appearance, I could trace how thoroughly he had renounced all idea of again mixing with the world, and yet what could his present state of existence be but a state of living death? "And now for my story, father," I said, as lightly as I could. "First, Marian is married." "Marian married!" He repeated the words slowly, with a sort of passive wonderment in his tones. "Yes, Marian is married to a clergyman, and a very good fellow, and I, father--I have been in a situation." He frowned, and repeated the words slowly to himself, as though displeased with it. "A situation? What sort of a one?" "I have had the management of a large estate. It was pleasant work." "Whereabouts?" he asked. "Father," I said, holding his arm, "I held it as Mr. Arbuthnot, of course, at Devereux." He sprang up like a galvanised figure, and looked down at me in eager amazement. "At Devereux! At Devereux! Oh, my God, at Devereux!" He sat down again, and covered his face with his hands. Thinking it best to leave him alone, I remained silent for a while. Suddenly he turned round. "How does the old place look, Hugh? Tell me all about it. And my--my--Sir Francis. Did you see him? Is he well?" There was such a lingering pathos in his eager questions, that, with an aching heart, I turned away and wept. Then, after a while, I told him everything. Told him of my recognition, of my grandfather's offer, of Hilton's confession, and of my appeal to Rupert Devereux. He listened as though every word were sinking into his heart--listened with an utter absorption which was almost painful to witness. I told him of everything save of Maud. There was a long silence when I had finished. Then he said quietly-- "You have done wrong, Hugh. You should have accepted your grandfather's offer. You must go back to England, and go to him." "Father," I answered, "an oath is a sacred thing, and I have sworn before God that I will not do this thing. Whilst your name is Arbuthnot mine will be Arbuthnot. The name of Devereux may die out for all I care! Those who bear the name now are not worthy of it--an obstinate old man, blinded by his military notions and his cursed family pride, and a man who has lived upon a villainous lie, which he refuses to own to! They may rot before I will go near them again, or take their cursed name. You are the only Devereux, father, whom I love and respect, and with you I will stop. I swear it." His hands were locked in mine, and a wonderful change had softened his face. But by degrees the light seemed to die out of it, and he shook his head anxiously. "You don't know what you are saying, Hugh. What, you, a young man, with your life all before you, bury yourself with a hermit! Ah, no, it must not be. You must retract that oath, and go back to England. I wish it; nay, I command it!"