Pardon me."

"That is my address," said I, stooping to write, in order to conceal
my wounded feelings. "You will avail yourself of it, I hope, often, and
tell me that you are well and happy."

"When I am happy you shall know."

"You do not require any introduction to Trevanion?"

Vivian hesitated. "No, I think not. If ever I do, I will write for it."

I took up my hat, and was about to go,--for I was still chilled and
mortified,--when, as if by an irresistible impulse, Vivian came to me
hastily, flung his arms round my neck, and kissed me as a boy kisses his
brother.

"Bear with me!" he cried in a faltering voice; "I did not think to love
any one as you have made me love you, though sadly against the grain.
If you are not my good angel, it is that nature and habit are too strong
for you. Certainly some day we shall meet again. I shall have time, in
the mean while, to see if the world can be indeed 'mine oyster, which
I with sword can open.' I would be aut Caesar aut nullus! Very little
other Latin know I to quote from! If Caesar, men will forgive me all the
means to the end; if nullus, London has a river, and in every street one
may buy a cord!"

"Vivian! Vivian!"

"Now go, my dear friend, while my heart is softened,--go before I shock
you with some return of the native Adam. Go, go!"

And taking me gently by the arm, Francis Vivian drew me from the room,
and re-entering, locked his door.

Ah! if I could have left him Robert Hall, instead of those execrable
Typhons! But would that medicine have suited his case, or must grim
Experience write sterner prescriptions with iron hand?

CHAPTER II.

When I got back, just in time for dinner, Roland had not returned,
nor did he return till late in the evening. All our eyes were directed
towards him, as we rose with one accord to give him welcome; but his
face was like a mask,--it was locked and rigid and unreadable.

Shutting the door carefully after him, he came to the hearth, stood on
it, upright and calm, for a few moments, and then asked,--

"Has Blanche gone to bed?"

"Yes," said my mother, "but not to sleep, I am sure; she made me promise
to tell her when you came back."

Roland's brow relaxed.

"To-morrow, sister," said he, slowly, "will you see that she has the
proper mourning made for her? My son is dead."

"Dead!" we cried with one voice, and surrounded him with one impulse.

"Dead! impossible,--you could not say it so calmly. Dead,--how do