These bitter thoughts occupied Randolph when the grey light of day-break stole through the lofty casements, and reminded him of the necessity of repose. He sought his own chamber. The sea lay beneath him, calm and still, but without its usual tranquillising influence. Dressed as he was he flung himself upon his bed, and sheer exhaustion brought some fitful slumber. The sun was shining bright into the room, when he finally awoke. His morning orisons, never neglected, inspired him with something like resignation. He would not, indeed, remain a day at the castle, but he would only go to London to be near head-quarters, and avail himself of the best assistance in unveiling the iniquity by which for a season he had been defeated. And, animated by this determination, he met his sister at breakfast with a countenance which told plainly enough what had happened, but at the same time was not utterly devoid of hope; one, "wherein appeared, obscure, some glimpse of joy." "It is against us, my brother," Helen said, when the repast was over. "Ay, Helen," he answered. "We are outcasts upon earth, from our home, and from our name. There is nothing left us but to say farewell. We may as well say it immediately. Can you be ready to depart this very day?" He saw that his sister's eyes were filled with tears. "It is sudden, dearest," he said; "but it is better so. I cannot stay here, while a taint rests upon my name. We can travel to-day, and what we want may follow us. And it will not be 'a farewell for ever.'" He smiled as he spoke, but he could win no corresponding glance from Helen. They separated to make the necessary preparations for departure. It was not much past noon, when the friends arrived whom Randolph had left at Bodmin. They united in protesting against the projected journey. But argument was vain. Randolph had completed his plan. He should go straight to his old quarters at Hampstead; that is, if he found them unoccupied; should put himself in close communication with Winter and his friend Rereworth; and follow up an inquiry into the evidence given at the trial with untiring energy. If such investigation were fruitless--but he was not inclined to accept that alternative--he need hardly say, that not for an hour would he waive his claim to the name of Trevethlan, and that therefore he had no notion of resuming his old disguise. He had no objection to Griffith remaining at the castle as long as the law would permit, but he earnestly pressed the chaplain to follow him to the metropolis. "You will be such a support to my sister, Mr. Riches," he urged. "I shall be much away from her. Engaged in business; unable to sustain her in this great change. Do come, my dear sir, and help your old pupils in their extremity."