"Are you mad, sir?" exclaimed Brace.

"No, young man," said Sir Murray; "but I have suffered enough to make me
so. Do as I tell you, since she never can be yours, for--"

He leaned forward, laying one trembling hand upon Brace's shoulder, his
face the while drawn and distorted, as he whispered, for a few moments,
in the young man's ear.

They were few words to which Sir Murray Gernon's lips gave utterance;
but they sent a flash of rage through Brace Norton's heart, as, catching
the baronet by the throat, he exclaimed:

"How dare you utter so base--" He said no more; but his hands dropped to
his sides, as he seemed to read in the baronet's livid and distorted
features the truth of his utterance. For a few moments the young man
stood motionless, a sob of horror and despair rending his breast as he
struggled for utterance; the next minute, with the same blind, groping
pace--the same aspect of misery seen a quarter of a century before on
his father's face--an aspect that might have betokened the judgment for
a father's sin descending upon the son--Brace Norton, broken-hearted and
half-stunned, hurried away.

Book 2, Chapter XIX.

AGAINST HOPE.

Father--mother? Whom could he fly to for advice at such a time? Brace
Norton asked himself. To neither. He knew what his father's counsel
would be, and that his mother, while sympathising, could not help him.
Reveal the words spoken to him by the baronet he could not. After the
first few hours of agony--of bitter agony--that he had suffered, he
would not even revert to them himself. He could not but think that Sir
Murray had felt what he said to be true; but, for himself, he felt that
it was monstrous. He believed that his mother had told him all she
knew, and he was ready to cast his life upon the honour and truth of his
father. There was no failing of confidence between them, and he
reddened with shame at having, even for a moment, credited the baronet's
assertion. Give up Isa? No; not while he had life! His course was
plainly enough marked out; he could see it now: it was to be his duty to
clear up the mystery that had long hung over Merland Castle, and he
would do it. Happiness might yet be the result for him; but even if it
were not, there was in the eyes of many yet living a stain upon his
fathers fair fame. That stain he would wipe away, even to the
convincing of Sir Murray Gernon.

He must, he felt, keep every thought and act from those who were dea