than she should pine and fall ill, and--no matter; all shall be settled
as it should be for the happiness of the living. But something else must
be settled; we must think of the dead as well as the living; and this
name of Darrell shall be buried with me in the grave beside my father's.
Lionel Haughton will keep to his own name. Live the Haughtons! Perish,
but with no blot on their shield--perish the Darrells! Why, what is
that? Tears, Dick? Pooh!--be a man! And I want all your strength; for
you, too, must have a share in the sacrifice. What follows is not the
dictate of pride, if I can read myself aright. No; it is the final
completion and surrender of the object on which so much of my life has
been wasted--but a surrender that satisfies my crotchets of honour. At
all events, if it be pride in disguise, it will demand no victim in
others; you and I may have a sharp pang--we must bear it, Dick."

"What on earth is coming now?" said Dick, dolefully.

"The due to the dead, Richara Fairthorn. This nook of fair England, in
which I learned from the dead to love honour--this poor domain of Fawley-
shall go in bequest to the College at which I was reared."

"Sir!"

"It will serve for a fellowship or two to honest, bravehearted young
scholars. It will be thus, while English institutions may last, devoted
to Learning and Honour. It may sustain for mankind some ambition more
generous than mine, it appears, ever was--settled thus, not in mine, but
my dear father's name, like the Darrell Museum. These are my dues to the
dead, Dick! And the old house thus becomes useless. The new house was
ever a folly. They must go down, both, as soon as the young folks are
married;--not a stone stand on stone! The ploughshare shall pass over