Self-Raised | Page 7

death-bed, and the words of the dying are sacred," said Ishmael
earnestly, and caressing the pale, thin hand that he held.
"Oh, Nora! Oh, Nora!" exclaimed Herman, as all his bosom's wounds
bled afresh.
"Father, do not grieve so bitterly; and after all these years so morbidly!
God has wiped away all tears from her eyes. She has been a saint in
glory these many years!"
"You try to comfort me, Ishmael. You, Nora's son?" exclaimed Herman,

with increased emotion.
"Who else of all the world should comfort you but Nora's son?"
"You love me, then, a little, Ishmael?"
"She loved you, my father, and why should not I?"
"Ah, that means that you will love me in time; for love is not born in an
instant, my son."
"My heart reaches out to you, my father: I love you even now, and
sympathize with you deeply; and I feel that I shall love you more and
more, and as I shall see you oftener and know you better," said the
simply truthful son.
"Ishmael! this is the happiest hour I have known since Nora's death,
and Nora's son has given it to me."
"None have a better right to serve you."
"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.

"You will keep it; you will make the name of Worth illustrious in the
annals of the country, Ishmael," said Mr. Brudenell.
There was a pause for a little while, at the end of which the latter said:
"There is another way in which I may be able to accomplish my
purpose, Ishmael. Without proclaiming you as my son, and risking the
reproach you dread for your dear mother's memory, I might adopt you
as my son, and appoint you as my heir. Will you make me happy by
consenting to that measure, Ishmael?" inquired the father, in a
persuasive tone.
"Dear sir, I cannot. Oh, do not think that I am insensible to all your
kindness, for indeed I am not! I thank you; I love you; and I deeply
sympathize with you in your disappointment; but--"
"But what, my son? what is the reason you cannot agree to this last
proposal?" asked Mr. Brudenell, in a voice quivering with emotion.
"A strong spirit of independence, the growth of years of lonely struggle
with the world, possesses and inspires me. I could not for an hour
endure patronage or dependence, come they from where or how they
might. It is the law of my life," said Ishmael firmly, but affectionately.
"It is a noble law, and yours has been a noble life, my son. But--is there
nothing, nothing I can do for you to prove my affection, and to ease my
heart, Ishmael?"
"Yes!" said the young man, after a pause. "When you return to England,
you will see--Lady Vincent!" The name was uttered with a gasp. "Tell
her what you have told me--the history of your acquaintance with my
mother; your mutual love; your private marriage, and the unforeseen
misfortune that wrecked your happiness! Tell her how pure