change in his habits. Turning
at last from my parents, Lady Ellinor inquired for Roland, and on
learning that he was with me in town, expressed a strong desire to
see him. I told her I would communicate her wish, and she then said
thoughtfully,--

"He has a son, I think; and I have heard that there is some unhappy
dissension between them."

"Who could have told you that?" I asked in surprise, knowing how closely
Roland had kept the secret of his family afflictions.

"Oh! I heard so from some one who knew Captain Roland,--I forget when
and where I heard it; but is it not the fact?"

"My uncle Roland has no son."

"How!"

"His son is dead."

"How such a loss must grieve him!"

I did not speak.

"But is he sure that his son is dead? What joy if he were mistaken,--if
the son yet lived!"

"Nay, my uncle has a brave heart, and he is resigned. But, pardon me,
have you heard anything of that son?"

"I!--what should I hear? I would fain learn, however, from your uncle
himself what he might like to tell me of his sorrows--or if, indeed,
there be any chance that--"

"That--what?"

"That--that his son still survives."

"I think not," said I; "and I doubt whether you will learn much from
my uncle. Still, there is something in your words that belies their
apparent meaning, and makes me suspect that you know more than you will
say."

"Diplomatist!" said Lady Ellinor, half smiling; but then, her face
settling into a seriousness almost severe, she added,--"it is terrible
to think that a father should hate his son!"

"Hate!--Roland hate his son! What calumny is this?"

"He does not do so, then! Assure me of that; I shall be so glad to know
that I have been misinformed."

"I can tell you this, and no more (for no more do I know), that if ever
the soul of a father were wrapped up in a son,--fear, hope, gladness,
sorrow, all reflected back on a father's heart from the shadows on a
son's life,--Roland was that father while the son lived still."

"I cannot disbelieve you!" exclaimed Lady Ellinor, though in a tone of
surprise. "Well, do let me see your uncle."

"I will do my best to induce him to visit you, and learn all that you
evidently conceal from me."

Lady Ellinor evasively replied to this insinuation, and shortly
afterwards I left that house in which I had known the happiness that
brings the folly, and the grief that bequeathes the wisdom.

CHAPTER IV.

I had always felt a warm and almost filial a