“Who has died so since Cain?” demanded the Master wildly: “slain by his brother—God and man call it an awful thing.” “Sir—’twas in mimic fight—a most unhappy accident.” “So we call it; so we gloss it over—but you and I know better, Melville,” answered the Master—“They hated each other—like I hated my brother—but he shot himself—better than if I had done it—yet this child’s guilt is mine—Melville, he was only twelve, but the black Dalrymple blood rose in him—my sins return to lay my house in ruins and dishonor me.” He rose, thrusting his chair back; with his great height emphasized by the flowing scarlet gown, his white face and his passionate eyes dark with pain, he looked almost terrible; the secretary drew further outside the circle of the lamplight. “Many men, Sir John,” he said in his even official voice, “would gladly have your sorrows to enjoy your fortunes. Worldly greatness such as yours is a fine balance to private misfortunes.” This smooth axiom was unheeded by the other, but he caught and dwelt on the sense of what was said. “What do I live for, Melville? Why have I flung myself into the plot—to work with my own hands? Why do I plan to sweep the Highlands bare of thieves—to rein in a kingdom and fly grandly above the breath of popular hate? It is only that I may forget—even for a while—I wish to plunge knee-deep through the press of factions, to mount, and ever mount, to grasp power, and, by Heaven, wield it—that I may cheat myself into thinking I forget what I shall never forget—unto the end!” As he spoke he began pacing the room; there was a curious lightness in his step; as if he feared to walk heavily; as if he dreaded waking echoes; he still held his wife’s letter in his hand. “Melville, get you to rest,” he said over his shoulder and his tone invited no dallying with his command; the secretary turned and the door closed softly on his departure. Sir John stopped under the lamp and broke the seal of his letter. It was dated from his London house and written in a trembling, much blotted, hand. It began: SIR JOHN,