for himself, whether you like it or not."

"Nice thing to be a family doctor," growled Dr Brandram, "and have
charge of the family skeletons. Between you and me, Armstrong, I was
never quite satisfied about the story of the boy's death abroad. The
old man said he had had news of it, and that was all anybody, even the
poor mother, ever got out of him."

"Really, Brandram," said the tutor, "you are a most uncomfortable
person. I wish you would not make me a party to these mysteries. I
don't like them, they are upsetting."

"Well, well, old fellow," replied the doctor, "whatever it was once,
it's no mystery now; for the poor fellow has long ago made good his
right to an inscription on the tombstone. You need have no doubt of
that."

A letter with an Indian post-mark, which arrived that same evening,
served for the present, at least, to divert the thoughts of Roger as
well as of his tutor to other channels.

The letter was from Captain Oliphant addressed to Mrs Ingleton.

"My very dear cousin," it read, "need I say with what deep sympathy I
received the news of our dear Roger's sudden call? At this great
distance, blows of this kind fall with cruel heaviness, and I assure you
I felt crushed as I realised that I should no more grasp the hand of one
of the noblest men it has been my privilege to call by the name of
friend. If my loss is so great, what must _yours_ be? I dare not think
of it! I was truly touched by our dear one's thought of me in desiring
that I should join you in the care of his orphaned boy. I regard this
dying wish as a sacred trust put upon me, which gratitude and love alike
require that I should accept. Ere this letter reaches you, I shall
myself be nearing England. The provision our dear Roger has made has
emboldened me to resign my commission, so that I may devote my whole
time without distraction to my new charge. You know, dear cousin, the
special bond of sympathy that unites us; your boy has been robbed of a
parent; my children long since have had to mourn a mother. I cannot
leave them here. They accompany me to England, where perhaps for all of
us there awaits a community of comfort. I bespeak your motherly heart
for them, as I promise you a father's affection for your boy. I will
write no more at present. The `Oriana' is due in London, I believe,
about February 20, and we shall, I need hardly assure you, not linger
long before bringing in our own persons to Maxfield whateve