the keen gray eyes chilled him! Not a word of welcome,
after all,--only those four chilling words. The boy's disappointment
was so great, his heart so lonely and homesick, that he stood with
downcast eyes, before his uncle, to hide the tears that glittered in
them, and could not answer a word. Trafford released his nephew's arm
with a sigh. The boy was the very counterpart of his father, of
Brother Noll, he thought,--the same fair, high forehead and curling
locks, the same deep blue eyes, the same eager, impetuous manner. This
resemblance touched him somewhat; he noted, also, that the boy's lips
quivered a little, and so said, in a kindlier tone,--

"You're very welcome to Culm, Noll. Are you tired with the journey?"

"No--yes--some, I mean," stammered poor Noll, winking hard to keep
the tears back.

"And you'd like some supper, I dare say," continued his uncle.

"Yes, by and by," the nephew managed to answer.

A silence fell upon them here,--long and deep,--in which the eternal
murmur of the sea stole in. Trafford's eyes did not move from the
boy's face; and at last he said, taking his hand,--

"You're wonderfully like your father, Noll,--in more ways than one, I
hope. Can a lad like you ever be contented in this old house?"

"I--I hope so, Uncle Richard," Noll replied, mocking these words,
however, by a very despairing tone.

Trafford smiled grimly. "He's weary of it already," he thought; "and
who can wonder? Noll and I couldn't have endured it at his age, I
suppose." Then he added aloud, "If you tire of it, Noll, you shall
have liberty to return to Hastings whenever you choose. You're not to
stay against your will, remember. You may find it lonely and dull,
perhaps; if so, I leave you to go or stay, as you choose."

The tone in which this was spoken was so sad that Noll ventured to
look up into his uncle's face. The gray eyes had lost their stern
light, and looked very sorrowful.

"I--I will never want to go back, Uncle Richard, if you would like me
to stay," he said, quickly.

"Ah, you don't know what you say, Noll," Trafford answered, stroking
the boy's hair; "it's a lonely place. For a boy it is horrible. Even
I sometimes find it but a weary resting-place. Ah! wait and see, wait
and see. I've little hope you'll stay longer than a month."

At this Noll's heart gave a leap of joy. "Do you really _hope_ I'll
stay, Uncle Richard?" he cried.

Trafford looked at the boy's eager,