During his aunt’s illness the little boy slept in a large cupboard off her bedroom; and that he might the better be able to attend to her wants through the night, and yet not entirely lose his sleep (as he did during the first night he was on duty), he tied one end of a long string round his big toe and the other round his patient’s wrist, and if Miss Esperance wanted the fire made up, or fresh poultices, or the "jelly drink" she was too weak to reach for herself, she would give the string a gentle pull, and Montagu, who was a light sleeper, was by her side in a moment, quick to hear her faintest whisper. During that time Montagu learned to know his aunt as he never could have done under any other circumstances. As her breathing grew easier, and her wonderful constitution—result of a life temperate and self-denying in all things—reasserted itself, they would have long and intimate talks, and the little boy learned a great deal about "the family" of which Miss Esperance was very proud. It had been settled that at Mr. Wycherly’s death Montagu was to take his name. "He has no son, my dear, and he has done so much for us that we could not refuse him this; but I would have you remember always that you are a Bethune. There have been some bad men among them and many good—but bad and good alike, they have all been Scottish gentlemen. You will be educated in England, Montagu, you will go to the English church, and you will learn English ways—good and pleasant ways they are which go to the making of such men as our dear friend—so wise and kind and unselfish. But never forget that you yourself are a Bethune, for it is a proud name to bear." And then the dear old lady would show him the family’s coat-of-arms in a little, fat, square calf-bound "Scots _Compendium_ of Rudiments of Honour. Containing the succession of _Scots Kings_ from Fergus, who founded the Monarchy. ALSO the Nobility of Scotland Present and Extinct—The Fifth edition improved and brought down to the year 1752." From this work Montagu would read aloud to his aunt almost as often as from the Bible itself, and would shudder as he read how one Archibald Bethune was "famish’d at Falkland in the year 1592 so that he nearly dy’d," but escaping to France "did afterward marry one Esperance de Lanois, daughter of a Marshal of France—" "and since then," Miss Esperance would interrupt eagerly, "there was never another Esperance Bethune till I was born." "I think she must have been like you," Montagu said, "kind to him because he was so thin from being famish’d." Miss Esperance laughed softly. "She was a girl of sixteen, my dear, when he married her." "I’d rather marry you than any girl of sixteen that I’ve ever seen," Montagu said stoutly. "You’re much prettier than any of them—except perhaps Margaret," he added, for he was very faithful in his enthusiasms.