ast stage of
human debility that was still bright, intelligent, and glowing--might
almost have been described as glaring.

"Is there aught in which we can contribute to your comfort, or to your
wishes?" asked Captain de Lacey, after a long and solemn pause, during
which all around the litter had mournfully contemplated the sad spectacle
of sinking mortality.

The smile of the dying man was ghastly, though tenderness and sorrow were
singularly and fearfully combined in its expression. He answered not; but
his eyes had wandered from face to face, until they became riveted, by a
species of charm, on the countenance of the oldest of the two females. His
gaze was met by a look as settled as his own; and so evident was the
powerful sympathy which existed between the two, that it could not escape
the observation of the spectators.

"Mother!" said the officer, with affectionate concern; "my mother! what
troubles you?"

"Henry--Gertrude," answered the venerable parent extending her arms to her
offspring, as if she asked support; "my children, your doors have been
opened to one who has a claim to enter them. Oh! it is in these terrible
moments, when passion is asleep and our weakness is most apparent, in
these moments of debility and disease, that nature so strongly manifests
its impression! I see it all in that fading countenance, in those sunken
features, where so little is left but the last lingering look of family
and kindred!"

"Kindred!" exclaimed Captain de Lacey: "Of what affinity is our guest?"

"A brother!" answered the lady, dropping her head on her bosom, as though
she had proclaimed a degree of consanguinity which gave pain no less than
pleasure.

The stranger, too much overcome himself to speak, made a joyful gesture of
assent, but never averted a gaze that seemed destined to maintain its
direction so long as life should lend it intelligence.

"A brother!" repeated her son, in unfeigned astonishment. "I knew you had
a brother: but I had thought him dead a boy."

"'Twas so I long believed, myself; though frightful glimpses of the
contrary have often beset me; but now the truth is too plain, in that
fading visage and those fallen features, to be misunderstood. Poverty and
misfortune divided us. I suppose we thought each other dead."

Another feeble gesture proclaimed the assent of the wounded man.

"There is no further mystery. Henry, the stranger is thy uncle--my
brother--once my pupil!"

"I could wish