"You will know now why I sought you,--why I called you my brother, and why I asked your forgiveness?" "Oh! this is awful news," exclaimed Viscount de Vere, as we shall now call him, without giving him the title he was rightful possessor of, as it would only make confusion. "And I have been a fratricide, and all my life waged war against my family!" He covered his face with his hands, and his thoughts were burning, intense, horrible! "That miscreant Bill! If I ever saw him again--and you think it is reliable. Ha! how often have I heard about Arthur de Vere, and his strange loss: little I thought it was I. And the Towers my own house, and you all brothers and sisters, and I have made some wretched, and slain my brother, and disgraced my race and name! Would God I had filled that little empty coffin I have seen in the vaults at Dun Edin Towers! Oh! if I had been drowned. Why did I live to become the monster of guilt I am?" "It is useless to sigh over what is done; you must try and reform and make the future redeem the past. Yours has been a wayward fate,--born to rank and honour which you never succeeded to, born with a mind meant for better things, a rich soil on which not flowers, but weeds, have luxuriated! The victim of bad men, you have sunk to infamy; but 'though your sins be as scarlet' recollect they may be made 'white as snow!' the greatest sinner may yet repent!" "Too late--too late." They were the only words the hapless man could utter, so overwhelmed was he at first by the intelligence. The Earl stood silent too, then Viscount de Vere spoke: "Wentworth, whatever are my rights I have forfeited them. Will you grant my dying wish, and that is never while I live mention this. When by my death I have atoned for my crimes record my unhappy fate on my tomb stone. Keep your name--use your wealth as you ever have done, shine the star you have ever shone, and leave your poor misguided brother to end the short time he may yet have to live in prison." "I have no right to do so if you have any family;--tell me, had you ever son or daughter?" "Never that I knew of; it is true I did marry, but I left my wife very shortly after our union, and since have never heard of her." "At present," said the Earl, "all I can do for you is to try and have you removed to a more comfortable place than this damp dungeon, and supplied with bed and proper food. I shall, I think, have influence with the government to enable you to pass the remainder of your life in seclusion, with every comfort that money can bring; of course you must remain abroad, and let me beseech you to devote your time to religion, and seek to enjoy endless happiness above! You need not think it is too late--greater sinners than you have found pardon and peace; and then if your life here has been a sad one, it will all be forgotten there!"