“Forgive me, gentle mother; but having discovered so much of your secret, I must know it all, even for your sake, and for the love and respect I bear you.”

He broke the seal and read the whole of the historical letter from beginning to end.

Then he carefully re-folded and re-sealed the letter, so as to leave no trace of the violence that has been done in opening it.

Then he sat for a long time with his elbows on the table before him, and his head bowed upon his hands while tear after tear rolled slowly down his cheeks for the sad fate of that young, broken hearted mother who had perished in her early prime.

The next day, as we have seen, he went to Hereward House and presented his mother’s letter to the duke.  He had watched his grace while the latter was reading the letter.  He had foolishly expected to see some sign of remorse, some demonstration of affection.  But he had been disappointed.  He had been received only as the son of some humble deceased friend, consigned to the great duke’s care.  His tender mood had changed to a vindictive one, and he had sworn to be restored to his rights, or to devote his life to effect the ruin and extermination of the house of Hereward.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE DUKE’S WARD.

The next morning, at the appointed hour, the Duke of Hereward drove to Langham’s, and sent up his card to Mr. John Scott.

The youth himself, to show the greater respect, came down to the public parlor where the duke waited, and after most deferentially welcoming his visitor, conducted him to his own private apartment.

“I see by your mother’s letter, as well as by her will, that she has done me the honor to appoint me your guardian,” said the elder man, as soon as they were seated alone together, and cautiously eyeing the younger, so as to detect, if possible, how much or how little he knew or suspected of the true relationship between them.

“My mother did me the honor to consign me to your grace’s guardianship, if you will be so condescending as to accept the charge,” replied the youth, with grave courtesy and in his turn eyeing the duke to see, if possible, what might be his feelings and intentions toward himself.

The duke bowed and then said: 

“I would like to carry out your mother’s views and your own wishes, if possible.  She mentioned in her letter the army as a career for you.  Do you wish some years hence to take a commission in the army?”

“I did, your grace:  but now I prefer to leave myself entirely in your grace’s hands,” cautiously replied the youth.

“But in the matter of choosing a profession you must be left free.  No one but yourself can decide upon your own calling with any hope of ultimate success.  Much mischief is done by the officiousness of parents and guardians in directing their sons or wards into professions or callings for which they have neither taste nor talent,” said the duke.