e can give no account that would satisfy a policeman, and whose
fortunes he thinks himself under the necessity of protecting. You are
very lucky that he has not picked your pockets, Sisty; but I dare say he
has. What's his name?"

"Vivian," said I,--"Francis Vivian."

"A good name and a Cornish," said my father. "Some derive it from the
Romans,--Vivianus; others from a Celtic word which means--"

"Vivian!" interrupted Roland. "Vivian!--I wonder if it be the son of
Colonel Vivian."

"He is certainly a gentleman's son," said I; "but he never told me what
his family and connections were."

"Vivian," repeated my uncle,--"poor Colonel Vivian! So the young man is
going to his father. I have no doubt it is the same. Ah!--"

"What do you know of Colonel Vivian or his son?" said I. "Pray, tell me;
I am so interested in this young man."

"I know nothing of either, except by gossip," said my uncle, moodily.
"I did hear that Colonel Vivian, an excellent officer and honorable man,
had been in--in--" (Roland's voice faltered) "in great grief about his
son, whom, a mere boy, he had prevented from some improper marriage, and
who had run away and left him,--it was supposed for America. The story
affected me at the time," added my uncle, trying to speak calmly.

We were all silent, for we felt why Roland was so disturbed, and why
Colonel Vivian's grief should have touched him home. Similarity in
affliction makes us brothers even to the unknown.

"You say he is going home to his family,--I am heartily glad of it!"
said the envying old soldier, gallantly.

The lights came in then, and two minutes after, Uncle Roland and I were
nestled close to each other, side by side; and I was reading over his
shoulder, and his finger was silently resting on that passage that
had so struck him: "I have not complained, have I, sir? And I won't
complain!"

PART X.

CHAPTER I.

My uncle's conjecture as to the parentage of Francis Vivian seemed to me
a positive discovery. Nothing more likely than that this wilful boy had
formed some headstrong attachment which no father would sanction,
and so, thwarted and irritated, thrown himself on the world. Such an
explanation was the more agreeable to me as it cleared up much that had
appeared discreditable in the mystery that surrounded Vivian. I could
never bear to think that he had done anything mean and criminal, however
I might believe he had been rash and faulty. It was natural that
t