That final ordeal was gone through at last; John Lucas Brownlow was, like his cousin, possessor of a certificate of honour and a medal, and had won both his degrees most brilliantly.  He had worked the hardest and had the most talent, and his achievement was perhaps the most esteemed because of his lack of the previous training that Friar had brought from Oxford.  Professors and physicians wrote his mother notes to express their satisfaction at the career of their old friend’s son, and Dr. Medlicott came to bring her a whole bouquet of gratifying praise and admiration from all concerned with him, ranging from the ability of his prize essay to the firm delicacy of his hand; and backed up by the doctor’s own opinion of the blameless conduct and excellent influence of both the cousins.  And now Dr. Medlicott declared he must have a good rest and holiday, after the long strain of hard toil and study.

It came like a dream to Caroline that the conditions imposed by her husband fifteen years before, when Lucas was a mischievous imp of a Skipjack, had been thus completely worked out, not only the intellectual, but the moral and religious terms being thus fulfilled.

The two cousins had come home to dinner in high spirits at the various kind things that had been said to, and of, Jock, and discussing the various suggestions for the future that had been made to them.  They thought Mother Carey strangely silent, but when they rose she called her son into the consulting room, as she still termed it.

“My dear,” she said, “this slate will tell you why this is the moment I have looked forward to from the time your dear father was taken from us with his work half done.  He had been working out a discovery.  He was sure of it himself, but none of the faculty would believe in it or take it up.  Even Dr. Lucas thought it was a craze, and I believe it can only be tested by risky experiments.  All that he had made out is in this book.  You know he could not speak for that dreadful throat.  This is what he wrote.  I copied it again, putting in my answers lest it should fade, but these are his very words, and that is my pledge.  Magnum Bonum was our playful pet name for it between ourselves.

“’I promise to keep the Magnum Bonum a secret, till the boys are grown up, and then only to confide it to the one that seems fittest, when he has taken his degree, and is a good, religious, wise, able man, with brains and balance, fit to be trusted to work out and apply such an invention, and not make it serve his own advancement, but be a real good and blessing to all.’  And oh, Jock,” she added, “am I not thankful that after all it should have come about that you should fulfil those conditions.”

“Did you not once mean it for John?” said Jock, hastily looking up.

“Yes, when I thought that hateful money had turned you all aside.”

“Then I think he ought to share this knowledge.”