"I beg your pardon--I account for yours, if you really take for truth and life monsters so nefast and flagitious. For heaven's sake, my dear fellow, don't suppose that any man could get on in England--get anywhere but to the Old Bailey or Norfolk Island, if he squared his conduct to such topsy-turvy notions of the world as I find here." "How many years are you my senior," asked Vivian sneeringly, "that you should play the mentor, and correct my ignorance of the world?" "Vivian, it is not age and experience that speak here, it is something far wiser than they--the instinct of a man's heart, and a gentleman's honour." "Well, well," said Vivian, rather discomposed, "let the poor books alone; you know my creed--that books influence us little one way or the other." "By the great Egyptian library, and the soul of Diodorus, I wish you could hear my father upon that point! Come," added I, with sublime compassion--"come, it is not too late--do let me introduce you to my father. I will consent to read French novels all my life, if a single chat with Austin Caxton does not send you home with a happier face and a lighter heart. Come, let me take you back to dine with us to-day." "I cannot," said Vivian with some confusion--"I cannot, for this day I leave London. Some other time perhaps--for," he added, but not heartily, "we may meet again." "I hope so," said I, wringing his hand, "and that is likely,--since, in spite of yourself, I have guessed your secret--your birth and parentage." "How!" cried Vivian, turning pale, and gnawing his lip--"what do you mean?--speak." "Well, then, are you not the lost, runaway son of Colonel Vivian? Come, say the truth; let us be confidants." Vivian threw off a succession of his abrupt sighs; and then, seating himself, leant his face on the table, confused, no doubt, to find himself discovered. "You are near the mark," said he at last, "but do not ask me farther yet. Some day," he cried impetuously, and springing suddenly to his feet--"some day you shall know all: yes; some day, if I live, when that name shall be high in the world; yes, when the world is at my feet!" He stretched his right hand as if to grasp the space, and his whole face was lighted with a fierce enthusiasm. The glow died away, and with a slight return of his scornful smile, he said--"Dreams yet; dreams! And now, look at this paper." And he drew out a memorandum, scrawled over with figures. "This, I think, is my pecuniary debt to you; in a few days, I shall discharge it. Give me your address." "Oh!" said I, pained, "can you speak to me of money, Vivian?" "It is one of those instincts of honour you cite so often," answered he, colouring. "Pardon me." "That is my address," said I, stooping to write, 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?"