and was sure to oppress the poor and helpless
when the old lord was no longer there to keep an eye on him.

By the sick man's bedside sat an old nurse, the tears running down her
wrinkled face. She had come to the castle long years before, with the
fair young mistress who had died when her boy was born. She had taken
the child from his dying mother's arms, and had brought him up as if he
had been her own, and many a time since he became a man she had mourned,
along with his father, over his reckless and sinful ways.

Now she saw nothing before him but ruin, and she shook her head sadly,
and muttered to herself as she sat in the darkened room.

"Janet," said the old lord suddenly, "go and tell the lad to speak to
me. He loves not to be chided, and of late years I have said but little
to him. It did no good, and only angered him. But there are things which
must be said, and something warns me that I must make haste to say
them."

Noiselessly the old woman left the room, and went to do his bidding, and
presently slow, unwilling footsteps sounded on the staircase, and the
Lord of Linne's only son entered.

His father's eye rested on him with a fondness which nothing could
conceal. For, as is the way with fathers, he loved him still, in spite
of all the trouble and sorrow and heartache which he had caused him.

He was a fine-looking young fellow, tall and strong, and debonair, but
his face was already beginning to show traces of the wild and reckless
life which he was leading.

"I am dying, my son," said his father, "and I have sent for thee to ask
thee to make me one promise."

A shadow came over the young man's careless face. He feared that his
father might ask him to give up some of his boon companions, or never to
touch cards or wine again, and he knew that his will was so weak, that,
even if he made the promise, he would break it within a month.

But his father knew this as well as he did, and it was none of these
things that he was about to ask, for he knew that to ask them would be
useless.

"'Tis but a little promise, lad," he went on, "and one that thou wilt
find easy to keep. I am leaving thee a large estate, and plenty of gold,
but I know too well that in the days to come thou wilt spend the gold
and sell the land. Thou canst not do otherwise, if thou continuest to
lead the life thou art leading now. But think not that I sent for thee
to chide thee, lad; the day is past for that. Promise only, that when