"My son, I am a prematurely old and broken man, ruined and
impoverished, but Brudenell Hall is still mine, and the name of
Brudenell is one of the most ancient and honored in the Old and New
World! If you consent, Ishmael, I will gladly, proudly, and openly
acknowledge you as my son. I will get an act of the Legislature
passed authorizing you to take the name and arms of Brudenell. And I
will make you the heir of Brudenell Hall. What say you, Ishmael?"

"Father," said the young man, promptly but respectfully, "no! In all
things I will be to you a true and loving son; but I cannot, cannot
consent to your proposal; because to do so would be to cast bitter,
heavy, unmerited reproach upon my sweet mother's memory! For,
listen, sir: you are known to have been the husband of the Countess
Hurstmonceux for more years than I have lived in this world; you are
known to have been so at the very time of my birth; you could not go
about explaining the circumstances to everyone who would become
acquainted with the facts, and the consequences would be what I
said! No, father, leave me as I am; for, besides the reasons I have
given, there is yet another reason why I may not take your name."

"What is that, Ishmael?" asked Brudenell, in a broken voice.

"It is, that in an hour of passionate grief, after hearing my
mother's woeful story from the lips of my aunt, I fell upon that
mother's grave and vowed to make her name--the only thing she had to
leave me, poor mother!--illustrious. It was a piece of boyish
vainglory, no doubt, but it was a vow, and I must try to keep it,"
said Ishmael, faintly smiling.