“No, sir--it is not all.” (He was secretly attentive of his client.) “There is a later document, from which it appears that Sir Robert abated, for any reasons of his own, the rigour of his resolve respecting this strange inheritance. For, by deed executed” (he had taken up and was referring to, and partly reading from, another paper) “the eleventh of October, 1779, he makes over the estate of ‘Delsrop’ to one Barnabas Creel--in trust, that is, and under certain conditions--said Barnabas Creel to have and enjoy said property without dispute, and until his benefactor’s son shall attain his majority (the which event is to happen, if he live, in the year 1790), and thereafter for all time, provided Sir Robert the junior comes not to bankruptcy of his affairs and threatened indigence. But in the latter event, if it happen any time between said son’s majority and his fortieth year--by which period of his life a man should be established whether for good or evil--the estate is to devolve upon said son, that he may take his profit of a cut-purse’s legacy (which is yet good enough for a gambler or rakehell) to reform his ways and live cleanly thenceforth; but on the sole condition that he foreswear his title--the which hath ever stood foremost in honour--and take the name of Tuke. For this name was borne by an honest woman, that shall shame her son to do it no discredit under his new conditions of fortune.” As he here ended, the lawyer precisely refolded the papers, tied all together, put the packet aside, and crossing his hands over his crossed knees, waited for the other to speak. A silence of some minutes succeeded. Then said the distitled legatee, rousing himself with a sigh: “I thank you, Mr. Creel, for your kindly discernment in hitherto withholding from me this intelligence. I confess it comes bitter to me. I rejoice in that re-assurance of my father’s integrity--which my heart, in truth, little misdoubted--but I confess the nature of this revelation a little overcomes me. ’Tis a bone to a dog, in all sovereign contempt.” “Nay, Sir Robert, Sir Robert. ’Tis the anxious medicine to a soul wounded of its own rashness.” “Well, sir, well. Pride may follow a fall, I find. Yet, if I may question the methods of a virtuous man, I could discover a flaw in my father’s particular morality. For the Crown, by all custom, is entitled to the reversion of an outlaw’s estates.”