“Well, I suppose the old man did as well as he could under the circumstances.  He too was to be pitied.  But now tell me, did you help to hark the bloodhounds of the law on my track?”

“No.  From the time I received a hint from that wretched man, Potts, the valet, implicating yourself, I refrained from all action in your pursuit.”

“I thought so—­I thought so.  You wouldn’t like to help hang your own brother, even if he had deserved it; but he did not quite deserve it; and it was to explain that, as well as some other things, that I brought you here.  You know so much already, however, so much more than I suspected you knew, that I shall not have a great deal to tell you; but—­my strength is going fast again.  I shall have to be quick.  Give me another glass of brandy.”

The duke complied with the man’s request, and then replaced the glass again and returned to the bedside.

“I suppose I should not require that stimulant so often to keep up my dying frame, if I had not been so hard a drinker in late years.  However, it is absolutely necessary to me now, if I am to go on.  Come close; I cannot raise my voice any longer,” whispered the fast-failing man.

The duke drew his chair as closely as possible to the side of the cot, took the wasted hand of his poor brother, and bowed his head to hear the sorrowful story.

In a weak, low voice, with many pauses, John Scott told the story of his life, from his own point of view, dwelling much on his mother’s undeserved sorrows and early death.

He told of his own secluded life and education, and of his ignorance of his father’s name until after his mother’s decease.

He confessed the rage and hatred that filled his bosom on first learning that poor mother’s wrongs, greater even than his own.

He spoke of the natural mistake made by the country people at Lone, who misled by his perfect likeness to his brother, had received him and honored him as Marquis of Arondelle.

He admitted that their error flattered his self-love, and believing that he had the best right to the title, he allowed them to deceive themselves, and to address him and speak of him as Lord Arondelle, the heir.

He related the incident of his first accidental meeting with Rose Cameron, who, like all the other tenantry, mistook him for the young marquis, and so had her head turned by his attentions, and followed him to London, where he secretly married her.

This brought him to the time when the extravagance of his companion, added to his own expensive vices, brought him deeply into debt.  He knew that his father had placed a large amount of money in the hands of Sir Lemuel Levison to be invested for his (John Scott’s) benefit.  He applied for a part of this money to pay his debts, but was refused by the trustee.  Whereupon a quarrel ensued, which resulted in Sir Lemuel Levison’s resolution to take the money down to Lone Castle and restore it to the original donor, that the latter might dispose of it at his own discretion.