‘Who are you?’ he said at length in tremulous tones. ‘Let me know who it is with whom I speak.’
‘I am your better self,’ the vision spoke; and the voice sounded faint and distant, yet very sweet, like music on the waters. ‘I am your good spirit, your guardian angel. I stand by you night and day, the presiding deity of the honour of the House of Charteris.’
This artful stroke gave the listener confidence, and flattered his family pride. ‘Has every man a spirit such as you?’ he asked.
‘Every man who is by nature noble—yes. To every one who has courage and genius, one of my sisters belongs. I am the guiding star of your House. I have stood by you and yours in the hour of need. I saw your father die. I saw your brother’s deathbed. It is of him you would speak?’
‘It is,’ the baronet cried boldly. ‘What of him?’
‘You owe him a heavy debt of reparation,’ the vision continued sadly. ‘In life, you were not always friends; in death, you were not with him. He left a family. Are you aware of that, selfish mortal?’
‘I did not know; I never knew. But it is not yet too late to atone. Tell me where they are, and I will go to them.’
‘It is too late!’ the figure replied in tones of deepest sorrow. ‘They are dead—dead of neglect; nay, more, starvation. They will not dispute your sway now. While you had flattery and adulation, while you lived in luxury and splendour, your kith and kin lacked bread.’
‘But surely some atonement can be made?’
‘Too late—too late! Nothing can avail them now, no specious sophistry, no outward appearance of remorse. You can atone, though slightly, by completing the work your brother began in life. Know that at your very door, proud man, thousands of your fellow-creatures are starving, ground down in the dust by injustice and oppression. You can help to lighten this burden; you can help these men, who, poor and savage as they are, are yet men, and brothers.’