Therefore, my
beloved father, in secret only can I enjoy the conviction that I am
your son, and Pembroke's brother. Yet the happiness I receive with
the knowledge of being so will ever live here, will ever animate my
heart with gratitude to Heaven and to you."
"Noble son of the sainted Therese!" cried Sir Robert; "I do not
deserve thee!"
"How shall I merit your care of my honor, of my dearest feelings?"
exclaimed Pembroke, grasping the hand of his brother. "I can do
nothing, dearest Thaddeus; I am a bankrupt in the means of evincing
what is passing in my soul. My mother's chaste spirit thanks you from
my lips. Yet I will not abuse your generosity. Though I retain the
name of Somerset, it shall only be the name; the inheritance entailed
on my father's eldest son belongs to you."
Whilst Thaddeus embraced his brother again, he calmly and
affectionately replied that he would rather encounter all the
probable evils from which his father's benevolence had saved him,
than rob his brother of any part of that inheritance, "which," he
earnestly added, "I sincerely believe, according to the Providence of
Heaven, is your just due."
Sir Robert, with abhorrence of himself and admiration of his sons,
attempted to stop this noble contention by proposing that it should
be determined by an equal division of the family property.
"Not so, my father," returned Thaddeus, steadfastly, but with
reverence; "I can never admit that the title of Somerset should
sacrifice one jot of its inherited accustomed munificence by making
any such alienation of its means.
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