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CHAPTER VIII.
"
GOD bless my soul, Hawkins!"
The morning paper dropped from the Colonel's nerveless-grasp.
"
"
What is it?"
He's gone!--the bright, the young, the gifted, the noblest of his
illustrious race--gone! gone up in flames and unimaginable glory!"
"
"
Who?"
My precious, precious young kinsman--Kirkcudbright Llanover
Marjoribanks Sellers Viscount Berkeley, son and heir of usurping
Rossmore."
"
"
"
"
"
No!"
It's true--too true."
When?"
Last night."
Where?"
7
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