Vivian hesitated: "No, I think not. If ever I do, I will write for it." I took up my hat, and was about to go--for I was still chilled and mortified--when, as if by an irresistible impulse, Vivian came to me hastily, flung his arms round my neck, and kissed me as a boy kisses his brother. "Bear with me!" he cried in a faltering voice: "I did not think to love any one as you have made me love you, though sadly against the grain. If you are not my good angel, it is that nature and habit are too strong for you. Certainly, some day we shall meet again. I shall have time, in the meanwhile, to see if the world can be indeed 'mine oyster, which I with sword can open.' I would be _aut Cæsar aut nullus_! Very little other Latin know I to quote from! If Cæsar, men will forgive me all the means to the end; if _nullus_, London has a river, and in every street one may buy a cord!" "Vivian! Vivian!" "Now go, my dear friend, while my heart is softened--go, before I shock you with some return of the native Adam. Go--go!" And taking me gently by the arm, Francis Vivian drew me from the room, and, re-entering, locked his door. Ah! if I could have left him Robert Hall, instead of those execrable Typhons! But would that medicine have suited his case, or must grim Experience write sterner recipes with her iron hand? CHAPTER XLVII. When I got back, just in time for dinner, Roland had not returned, nor did he return till late in the evening. All our eyes were directed towards him, as we rose with one accord to give him welcome; but his face was like a mask--it was locked, and rigid, and unreadable. Shutting the door carefully after him, he came to the hearth, stood on it, upright and calm, for a few moments, and then asked-- "Has Blanche gone to bed?" "Yes," said my mother, "but not to sleep, I am sure; she made me promise to tell her when you came back." Roland's brow relaxed. "To-morrow, sister," said he slowly, "will you see that she has the proper mourning made for her? My son is dead." "Dead!" we cried with one voice, and surrounding him with one impulse. "Dead! impossible--you could not say it so calmly. Dead!--how do you know? You may be deceived. Who told you?--why do you think so?" "I have seen his remains," said my uncle, with the same gloomy calm. "We will all mourn for him. Pisistratus, you are heir to my name now, as to your father's. Good-night; excuse me, all--all you dear and kind ones; I am worn out." Roland lighted his candle and went away, leaving us thunderstruck; but he came back again--looked round--took up his book, open in the favourite passage--nodded again, and again vanished. We looked at each other, as if we had seen a ghost. Then my father rose and went out of the room, and remained in Roland's till the night was wellnigh gone. We sat up--my mother and I--till he returned. His benign face looked profoundly sad. "How is it, sir Can you tell us more?" My father shook his head.