my life.
Doubtless the supposed retreat to the continent, of my sister and
myself, was attributed to motives of economy. But we had a very
different object in view. Reared in that lonely castle by the sea,
ignorant of society, enthusiasts perhaps by nature, we taught
ourselves to look forward to a renovation of our old splendour, and to
my success in a profession as the means. We read of such things in our
library. But there was one obstacle. My poor father--a man of much
sorrow, Rereworth--had the feelings which--which men often have. With
his dying breath he forbade me to risk the fame of his race in such an
enterprise. It was then I mentioned the plan I had devised with my
sister. The world might suppose us to be sojourning in a strange land,
while in fact we stayed here, and I toiled under a feigned name in an
honourable profession. With a struggle my father consented to the
scheme. Our steward introduced me as Morton to Mr. Winter, and that
gentleman procured me admission to the Temple. But the dream has
vanished away."

So far Randolph spoke firmly and quickly. But his voice trembled, and
his words came more slowly as he proceeded.

"You may know the terms--but it matters not. Mrs. Pendarrel was once
acquainted with my father. I suppose she detected a likeness in me. I
heard her inquire about me last night. To be Morton in her presence!
It was what I could not bear. I avowed my name.--You will yourself
excuse the imposition. You will excuse it for me to Mrs. Winston as
best you may."

Rereworth's wonder had increased with every word he heard. It was so
strange an encroachment on the ordinary monotony of life. He was aware
of the quarrel between the late Mr. Trevethlan and Mrs. Pendarrel. He
understood the feelings which had prompted Randolph. He regretted the
termination of his career. It was the last sentiment that he expressed
in his answer.

"Trevethlan," he said, "no apology will be necessary. Forgive me, if I
grieve that your intentions should be defeated. For you may know that
this makes your admission here void. But believe me, my regard was not
for your name, and will be unaltered."

"I care for nothing else," said Randolph. "Already I have petitioned
the bench. My sister and I return to Cornwall directly. Since you are
so kind, perhaps you will spend the evening with us."

Rereworth consented, and his friend left him musing in the gardens.
This then was the romance which surrounded the brother an