"I was told of it at Melcombe," said Brandon, hesitating.
"By whom?"
"It seemed to be familiarly known there." He glanced at the Times which was laid on the table just beyond the desk at which Valentine sat. "It was little Peter Melcombe," he said gravely, "who mentioned it to me."
"What! the poor little heir!" exclaimed Valentine, rather contemptuously. "I would not be in his shoes for a good deal! But Giles—but Giles—you have shown me the letter!"
He started up.
"Yes, there it is," said Giles, glancing again at the Times, for he perceived instantly that Valentine for the first time had remembered on what contingency he was to be told of this matter.
There it was indeed! The crisis of his fate in a few sorrowful words had come before him.
"At Corfu, on the 28th of February, to the inexpressible grief of his mother, Peter, only child of the late Peter Melcombe, Esq., and great-grandson and heir of the late Mrs. Melcombe, of Melcombe. In the twelfth year of his age."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Valentine, in an awestruck whisper. "Then it has come to this, after all?"
He sat silent so long, that his brother had full time once more to consider this subject in all its bearings, to perceive that Valentine was trying to discover some reasonable cause for what his father had done, and then to see his countenance gradually clear and his now flashing eyes lose their troubled expression.