Go then, said De Lancaster; be it as thou sayest! for I perceive the spirit of my race, which has passed over thy father, descends upon thee. Go, when thou art called for; but remember, truth must not be told with aggravation, nor in our resort to justice must we gratify revenge. At this moment Mr. Philip De Lancaster walked into the room, and addressing himself after his cool manner to his son--You are come just in time, he said, for I have taken leave of your mother, and have nothing to do but to pay my duty to my father, and set out upon my journey. I leave you in the care of such good friends, that you stand in no need of any advice from me; and, if you did, I know not what else I could say to you, but to recommend it to you to be a good boy, to pay attention to your tutor, to carry yourself dutifully to your grandfather, mother and aunt, to recollect that you are but a child in age and understanding, and in a word to mind your book and say your prayers. Now go up to your mother; she expects you in her bed chamber; tread softly, (do you mind) and be careful of alarming her, for, though she bore parting from me with perfect tranquillity, the least noise will shake her nerves, and throw her into tremors. I shall observe your caution, sir, the youth replied; but if it is your pleasure that I should attend upon you again before you take your departure, I will simply pay my duty to my mother, and wait upon you to your carriage. No, no, child, cried the father, there is no occasion for that ceremony. I don’t wish any body to attend upon me to my carriage, but the servant, that goes with me. The disappointed youth cast a parting look of sensibility on his father, bowed respectfully and left the room. I perceive, son Philip, said the old gentleman, that, nearly allied as you are to my grandson John, you are not acquainted with his manly character, when you talk to him as to a child--but of this we will say no more--so long as I have life his education will be my care, and at my death it will be found I have not been less careful of his interest. You are now going to the continent, and I sincerely wish you health and a pleasant tour; but if you calculate upon Mrs. De Lancaster’s chance of ever reaching Montpelier, I greatly fear you will be disappointed, and I therefore recommend it to you to postpone providing an establishment for her there or elsewhere, till you are further advised from us. Your equipage I see is waiting, and nothing remains for me, but to bid you heartily farewell. This said, they both rose, embraced and parted never to meet again. CHAPTER VI. _Dark Doings at the Abbey of Penruth._