I scarcely breathed. I thought I should hear something that would make clear my future relation to Ruth, and would clear up the mystery that I felt existed in regard to my brother and myself. "Wilfred----" he hesitated a moment, and then his eyes sought my mother's. Instantly she came to his side, and looked at him strangely. He heaved a sigh, and continued: "Wilfred is younger than you, and does not by law inherit any of the Trewinion lands. I have left him money, however, and given him a good education, still----" "What, dear father?" "I fancy he thinks himself hardly treated. If you like, Roger, you might grant him an annuity," and he named a sum. "God is my witness, father, that I'll be true to your wishes; if I can, I'll give him more." "That's my own boy, Roger. He will not need it; but it's perhaps best." I looked at my mother as he said this. There was a terrible look on her face. I cannot describe it. Mockery, disdain, anger, despair, vindictiveness were all stamped there, but I heeded little; I was too intent on catching my father's every word. "With regard to the girls, Roger, they will live on with you. I have left them a farm each--bought with the money saved through the years. The rents of these farms have been, and are, accumulating. It's all written down, and, when the lawyer comes, you can go into everything. These farms, and the money received from them, will be their wedding portion if they marry; if they don't they will never be in want." I could only say, "Yes, father." "If it's God's will," he went on, "Wilfred will succeed Mr. Polperrow and have the Trewinion living, unless anything happens to you, then--then he will be Trewinion's heir." Involuntarily I again looked at my mother's face. There was exulting triumph on it, mingled with a look of terrible hatred. I did not know what it meant, nor could I conjecture. "But I hope there's no danger of that," he continued. "You are my eldest born, my own boy." How fondly he repeated these words, and how proud I felt, in spite of my grief, as I heard him speak them; and so I again repeated: "I'm your own boy." "There's just one other matter I'm going to speak to you about," he said, after a pause. "I ought to have spoken to you about it before; but I thought there was plenty of time. Mr. Inch, will you come near?" The old man came up with a stately step. He had always been treated with great respect in our house, especially as he was Ruth's valued friend, and had much to do with the managing of Ruth's estate. "You remember," went on my father, and I noticed that he spoke with more difficulty, "the night you saved Ruth?" "Yes, father." "I had been in communication with her father prior to that; indeed, as you know, we had been friends for years." He turned to Mr. Inch when he said this, and went on: "You know Mr. Morton's wish with regard to Ruth, Mr. Inch; he told you before he died all about it?"