“But let us not dwell upon that.  The past is dead.  Let it be buried.”

“Aye, with all my heart.”

“You wished to see me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“To make some communication to me.  Is it a very important one?”

“It is so important that I have risked my soul to make it to you.”

“But how can that be?”

“Why, in this way.  I have but little strength, I might have used that strength in making my confession to Father Garbennetti, and received absolution at his hands; but I was afraid of exhausting myself so that I should not be able to tell you what I have to communicate.”

“I trust and believe that you have more strength than you suppose.  Your eyes look bright and strong.”

“That is the effect of the brandy.  I never tasted better.  Ah! they know what good liquor is—­these holy sisters—­no offence to them, bless them; their care has helped me; but I am going fast, for all that.”

“You are at ease—­you feel no pain?”

“No; but that is because mortification has set in.  I feel no pain:  I am at ease, only sinking, sinking, sinking fast.  Will you pour out a little glass of brandy and give it to me?  You will find the bottle and the wine-glass on the table,” said the patient, who was visibly growing feebler.

The duke went and brought the stimulant, and administered it to the dying man.

“Ah! that revives me!  How long have you known that I was your brother?” Scott inquired, as soon as the duke had replaced the glass and returned to the bedside.

“Only since our honored father’s death.  I should at once have claimed you and carried out certain instructions he had left me for your benefit, in the letter in which he revealed our relationship—­if—­if—­if—­”

The duke, with more delicacy than moral courage, hesitated, and finally left his sentence incomplete.

“If I had not dishonored my family by committing a crime, and flying the country!” said John Scott, finishing the sentence for the first speaker.

“I did not say so,” exclaimed the duke, flushing.

“But it was the truth nevertheless.  And now before I begin my confession, will you please to tell me the nature of the revelation and of the instructions that my father left to you concerning me?”

“Certainly.  He told me the story of his first fatal marriage; of the divorce sought and granted under lying circumstantial evidence; of your birth some few months later—­out of wedlock—­although you were the son of his lawful marriage.  He told me how impossible it was ever to restore you to your lawful rights, and he charged me to regard you as a dear brother, and share with you all the benefits of the estate, the whole of which would eventually have been yours had not your father’s own rash act deprived you of the succession, and forever put it out of our power to restore you to it.  I accepted the trust, and should have discharged it had you not left the country.”