"Hey! halloo! what's this?" he cried, starting up in the bed, and surveying the spacious apartment,--strange to him,--with a vacant stare. "Where am I?" His gaze fell upon Randolph, who was seated by the bed. "You here?" and his countenance fell.--"What in the devil does all this mean?" Randolph did not reply. There was a slight trembling of his nether lip, and his eyes grew brighter as he fixed his gaze on his brother's face. "Where's my coat?" cried Harry, surveying his shirt sleeves, "and my cravat,"--he passed his hands over his muscular throat,--"and--you,--what in the devil are _you_ doing here?" Randolph, still keeping his gaze on his brother's face, said in a low voice,--"I am in my own house, brother." "Your house?" ejaculated Harry, and then burst into a laugh,--"come, now,--don't,--that's too good." "My own house, to which I brought you some hours ago, after I had rescued you from the persons in the cellar----" "_Rescued_ me?" and an incredulous smile passed over Harry's face as he pulled at his bushy whiskers. "Better yet,--ha! ha!--You don't think to stuff me with any such damned nonsense?" Randolph grew paler, but his eye flashed with deeper light. "Brother, I did rescue you," he said, in the same low voice, as he bent forward.--"As we were about to engage in conflict, you fell like a dead man on the floor. I took you in my arms; I defended you from the negroes who were clamorous for your blood; I bore you to upper air, and I, brother, then brought you in a carriage to my home; and I laid you on my bed, brother; and when you awoke from your swoon,--awoke with the ravings of delirium on your tongue,--I soothed you, until you fell in a sound sleep. This is the simple truth, brother." Harry grew red in the face, then pale,--bit his lip,--pulled his whiskers, and then without turning his head, regarded Randolph with a sidelong glance. To tell the simple truth, Harry did not know what to say. He felt a swelling of the heart, a warmth in his veins, as though the magnetic gaze of Randolph had influenced him even against his will. "You did all this?"--there was a faint tremor in his voice. "I did, brother,"--Randolph's voice was deep and earnest. "Why,--why,--did not you kill me, when you had me in your power?" "Brother, the blood of John Augustus Royalton flows in my veins, and it is not like a Royalton to strike a fallen foe." "And you could have put poison in my drink," hesitated Harry, impressed against his will by the manner of his brother. "I never heard of a Royalton who became a poisoner." "A _Royalton_? and you call yourself a Royalton?" said Harry, still regarding his brother with a sidelong gaze. Randolph bit his lip, and folded his arms upon his chest, as if to choke down the strong emotions which were struggling within him. He did not reply.