In the meantime, Giles Sympelton had arrived with his charge at the Tower; and having seen the sick youth placed in a warm room, with kindly hands about him, and the old people settled comfortably by the great kitchen fire, was finally solacing himself after the labors of this strangely exciting day, at Mrs. Catherine's well-appointed dinner-table, with Mrs. Catherine herself opposite him. She was singularly kind. In spite of much temptation, and many bad associates, Giles Sympelton had remained unsophisticated and simple. The fear of ridicule, which might in other circumstances have induced him to resist the attractions of this stately old lady, with whom he had been brought so strangely in contact, was removed from the lad now--he gave way to the fascination. With natural _naivete_ and simplicity, he told her his whole brief history; how of late he had written very seldom to his father; how he had become disgusted with Fitzherbert, and disliked Gillravidge, and was so very sorry for "poor Sutherland;" how he vowed never to enter Lord Gillravidge's house again, if "that noble fellow, Macalpine," were turned out of his; and, finally, how determined was he to keep his vow--to send for his servant, and his possessions, and to go into Portoran that very night: he was resolved not to spend another night in Strathoran. "I have houseroom for you," said Mrs. Catherine. "Let your servant bring your apparel here--I am not straitened for chambers. You have done good service to the Macalpines, as becomes a young heart. I rejoice to have you in my house. You should send for your man without delay." The youth hesitated--met Mrs. Catherine's eye--blushed--looked down, and muttered something about troubling her. "You will be no trouble to me--I have told you that. What is your name?" Sympelton looked up surprised and bashful. "Giles Sympelton," he said. "Sympelton?" said Mrs. Catherine. "Was the bairn that died in Madeira thirty years ago, a friend to you?" "My father had a sister," said young Sympelton; "he was very fond of her--who died very long ago, years before I was born." Mrs. Catherine was silent, and seemed much moved. "Friend!" she said, "I had one brother who was the very light of my eyes, and there was a gentle blue-eyed bairn, in yon far away island, who went down with him to the grave. The name of her was Helen. He died in the morning, and she died at night, and on the same day her brother and I buried our dead. If you are of her blood, you are doubly welcome!" "My aunt's name was Helen," said Giles, "and she was only fifteen when she died. I have heard my father speak of her often."