"How could I help it, when 'it came to my hand like the bow o' a pint stoup?'" answered Dick Causton coolly, with his eyes fixed hungrily on the Major's brandy bottle. The hint was successful. Bottle and glass were immediately placed within his reach, and he made haste to warm and quicken his age-frosted blood with a deep draught of the potent liquor. It was both strange and sad to see how his eye brightened, his face grew more animated, his figure became more erect, his whole frame seemed to gather vigor and energy, under its influence, while his air became, if possible, more mean and slouching than before. It was as if he felt conscious himself, and knew that any beholder would be sure to discover, that his proper strength and manhood had long since died out of him, and he was now drawing unworthy breath and life from a source of which he was thoroughly ashamed, though unable to do without it. Major Bergan, meanwhile, briefly explained why he had sent for him, adding, in a tone that was meant to be courteous, but narrowly escaped condescension;-- "I knew that you would be glad to do a favor to an old friend like me, Dick." "Certainly," replied Richard Causton, heartily; "especially as I suspect that I shall also be doing a favor to my young friend, Mr. Arling. 'He that loves the tree, loves the branch,' you know." Major Bergan frowned. "I don't see what my nephew has to do with it," said he, surlily. Dick Causton gave him a look of surprise. "_De vrucht valt niet ver van den stam_," said he, shaking his head. "That is to say, The fruit falls near the stem. It isn't nature for a man to leave his property away from his own blood. It isn't right, either, in my opinion." "I am not going to leave mine away from my blood," replied Major Bergan, austerely; "though, if I were, I do not see that it is anybody's affair but my own." "Nor I either," rejoined Dick Causton, coolly, "unless your dead ancestors should imagine it to be theirs. _Os demos á os suyos quieren_,--The devils are fond of their own,--and so, doubtless, are the saints, if any such are to be found in your pedigree. It is reasonable to suppose that they would all prefer to see their earthly possessions go down in the channel marked out by nature. Anyway, I'm right glad to know that Mr. Arling is to have his rights, some day, fine fellow that he is! I've always had a kindness for him, ever since I first gave him a lift, on his way to you." Major Bergan looked very grim. "Yes, Mr. Arling will have his rights," said he, with stern emphasis,--"I've seen to that." Dick Causton glanced from the Major's face to the will, with an instinctive feeling that all was not right, but could make nothing of either. The one was dark and impenetrable; the other was upside down, from his point of view. Apparently, nothing invited attack but the brandy bottle. That, he was glad to see, was not yet empty.