er's arms. "My boy, my dear boy," was all the old man could
say; and Charles, though determined to maintain the most stoical calm
throughout the whole visit, had to draw his hand across his eyes in
secret.

"How well you look, Charley,--stouter and heavier than when here.
English life and habits have agreed with you, boy."

"Yes, sir. If I can manage to keep my present condition, I 'm in good
working trim for a campaign; and you--tell me of yourself."

"There is little to say on that subject. When men live to my term, about
the utmost they can say is, that they are here."

Though he tried to utter these words in a half-jocular tone, his voice
faltered, and his lips trembled; and as the young man looked, he saw
that his father's face was careworn and sad, and that months had done
the work of years on him since they parted. Charles did his utmost
to treat these signs of sorrow lightly, and spoke cheerfully and even
gayly.

"I'd go with your merry humor, boy, with all my heart, if you were not
about to leave us."

Was it anything in the interests thus touched on, or was it the chance
phrase, "to leave _us_." that made young Heathcote become pale as death
while he asked, "How is May?"

"Well,--quite well; she was here a moment back. I fancied she was in the
room when you came in. I'll send for her."

"No, no; time enough. Let us have a few more minutes together."

In a sort of hurried and not very collected way, he now ran on to talk
of his prospects and the life before him. It was easy to mark how the
assumed slap-dash manner was a mere mask to the bitter pain he felt and
that he knew he was causing. He talked of India as though a few days'
distance,--of the campaign like a hunting-party; the whole thing was a
sort of eccentric ramble, to have its requital in plenty of incident and
adventure. He even assumed all the vulgar slang about "hunting down the
niggers," and coming back loaded with "loot," when the old man threw his
arm around him, and said,--

"But not to me, Charley,--not to _me_."

The chord was touched at last. All the pretended careless ease was gone,
and the young man sobbed aloud as he pressed his father to his breast.
The secret which each wanted to keep to his own heart was out, and now
they must not try any longer a deception.

"And why must it be, Charley? what is the urgent cause for deserting me?
I have more need of you than ever I had. I want your counsel and your
kindness; your very pr