But this he knew could never, never be.  Every principle of honor, delicacy, and prudence forbade him now to interfere in the destiny of Nora’s long-ignorant and neglected, but gifted and rising son.  With what face could he, the decayed, impoverished, almost forgotten master of Brudenell Hall go to this brilliant young barrister, who had just made a splendid debut and achieved a dazzling success, and say to him: 

“I am your father!”

And how should he explain such a relationship to the astonished young man?  At making the dreadful confession, he felt that he should be likely to drop at the feet of his own son.

No!  Ishmael Worth must remain Ishmael Worth.  If he fulfilled the promise of his youth, it would not be his father’s name, but his young mother’s maiden name which would become illustrious in his person.

And yet, from the first moment of his seeing Ishmael and identifying him as Nora’s son, he felt an irresistible desire to meet him face to face, to shake hands with him, to talk with him, to become acquainted with him, to be friends with him.

It was this longing that urged Mr. Brudenell to accept Judge Merlin’s invitation and accompany the latter home.  And now in a few moments this longing would be gratified.

In the midst of all other troubled thoughts one question perplexed him.  It was this:  What had become of the check he had given Hannah in the hour of his departure years ago?

That it had never been presented and cashed two circumstances led him to fear.  The first was that he had never seen it among those returned to him when his bankbook had been made up; and the second was that Hannah had shared the bitter poverty of her nephew, and therefore could not have received and appropriated the money to her own uses.

As he had learned from the judge that Hannah was in Washington, he resolved to seek a private interview with her, and ascertain what had become of the check, and why, with the large sum of money it represented, she had neglected to use it, and permitted herself and her nephew to suffer all the evils of the most abject poverty.

CHAPTER LIX.

FIRST MEETING OF FATHER AND SON.

  Oh, Christ! that thus a son should stand
      Before a father’s face.

  —­Byron.

While Mr. Brudenell still ruminated over these affairs the second dinner-bell rang, and almost at the same moment Judge Merlin rapped and entered the chamber, with old-fashioned hospitality, to show his guest the way to the drawing room.

“You feel better, I hope, Brudenell?” he inquired.

“Yes, thank you, judge.”

“Come then.  We will go down.  We are a little behind time at best this evening, upon account of our young friend’s long-winded address.  It was a splendid affair, though.  Worth waiting to hear, was it not?” proudly inquired the judge as they descended the stairs.