Herman Brudenell ended his story very much as he had commenced it. "And since that day of doom, Ishmael, I have been a lonely, homeless, miserable wanderer over the wide world! The fabled Wandering Jew not more wretched than I!" And the bowed head, blanched complexion, and quivering features bore testimony to his words. CHAPTER III FATHER AND SON. For though thou work'st my mother ill I feel thou art my father still! --_Byron._ Yet what no chance could then reveal, And no one would be first to own, Let fate and courage still conceal, When truth could bring reproach alone. --_Milnes._ Ishmael had been violently shaken. It was with much effort that he controlled his own emotions in order to administer consolation to one who was suffering even more than he himself was, because that suffering was blended with a morbid remorse. "Father," he said, reaching forth his hand to the stricken man; but his voice failed him. Herman Brudenell looked up; an expression of earnest love chasing away the sorrow from his face, as he said: "Father? Ah, what a dear name! You call me thus, Ishmael? Me, who worked your mother so much woe?" "Father, it was your great misfortune, not your fault; she said it on her death-bed, and the words of the dying are sacred," said Ishmael earnestly, and caressing the pale, thin hand that he held. "Oh, Nora! Oh, Nora!" exclaimed Herman, as all his bosom's wounds bled afresh. "Father, do not grieve so bitterly; and after all these years so morbidly! God has wiped away all tears from her eyes. She has been a saint in glory these many years!" "You try to comfort me, Ishmael. You, Nora's son?" exclaimed Herman, with increased emotion. "Who else of all the world should comfort you but Nora's son?" "You love me, then, a little, Ishmael?" "She loved you, my father, and why should not I?" "Ah, that means that you will love me in time; for love is not born in an instant, my son." "My heart reaches out to you, my father: I love you even now, and sympathize with you deeply; and I feel that I shall love you more and more, and as I shall see you oftener and know you better," said the simply truthful son. "Ishmael! this is the happiest hour I have known since Nora's death, and Nora's son has given it to me." "None have a better right to serve you." "My son, I am a prematurely old and broken man, ruined and impoverished, but Brudenell Hall is still mine, and the name of Brudenell is one of the most ancient and honored in the Old and New World! If you consent, Ishmael, I will gladly, proudly, and openly acknowledge you as my son. I will get an act of the Legislature passed authorizing you to take the name and arms of Brudenell. And I will make you the heir of Brudenell Hall. What say you, Ishmael?"