“I should have told you so before,” said Beatrice, “but my own troubles drove every thing else from my mind.” “Forgive me,” said Brandon, “for intruding now. I came in to learn about Langhetti. You look upon me with horror. I will withdraw.” Beatrice bowed her head, and tears streamed from her eyes. Brandon took her hand. “Farewell,” he murmured; “farewell, Beatrice. You will not condemn me when I say that I am innocent?” “I am accursed,” she murmured. Despard looked at these two with deep anxiety. “Stay,” said he to Brandon. “There is something which must be explained. There is a secret which Langhetti has had for years, and which he has several times been on the point of telling. I have just spoken to him and told him that you are here. He says he will tell his secret now, whatever it is. He wishes us all to come in--and you too, especially,” said Despard, looking at Mrs. Compton. The poor old creature began to tremble. “Don’t be afraid, old woman,” said Philips. “Take my arm and I’ll protect you.” She rose, and, leaning on his arm, followed the others into Langhetti’s room. He was fearfully emaciated. His material frame, worn down by pain and confinement, seemed about to dissolve and let free that soaring soul of his, whose fiery impulses had for years chafed against the prison bars of its mortal inclosure. His eyes shone darkly and luminously from their deep, hollow sockets, and upon his thin, wan, white lips there was a faint smile of welcome--faint like the smile of the sick, yet sweet as the smile of an angel. It was with such a smile that he greeted Brandon, and with both of his thin white hands pressed the strong and muscular hand of the other. “And you are Edith’s brother,” he said. “Edith’s brother,” he repeated, resting lovingly upon that name, Edith. “She always said you were alive, and once she told me she should live to see you. Welcome, brother of my Edith! I am a dying man. Edith said her other brother was alive--Frank. Where is Frank? Will he not come to stand by the bedside of his dying friend? He did so once.” “He will come,” said Brandon, in a voice choked with emotion, as he pressed the hand of the dying man. “He will come, and at once.” “And you will be all here, then--sweet friends! It is well.” He paused. “Bice!” said he at last. Beatrice, who was sitting by his head, bent down toward him. “Bice,” said Langhetti. “My pocket-book is in my coat, and if you open the inside pocket you will find something wrapped in paper. Bring it to me.” Beatrice found the pocket-book and opened it as directed. In the inside pocket there was a thin, small parcel. She opened it and drew forth a very small baby’s stocking. “Look at the mark,” said Langhetti. Beatrice did so, and saw two letters marked on it--B. D.