"And why did you wait for me, my little Blanche?" "Why! only to see you. But your eyes are red. Oh, cousin!"--and, before I was aware of her childish impulse, she had sprung to my neck and kissed me. Now Blanche was not like most children, and was very sparing of her caresses. So it was out of the deeps of a kind heart that that kiss came. I returned it without a word; and, putting her down gently, ran down the stairs, and was in the streets. But I had not got far before I heard my father's voice; and he came up, and, hooking his arm into mine, said, "Are there not two of us that suffer?--let us be together!" I pressed his arm, and we walked on in silence. But when we were near Trevanion's house, I said hesitatingly, "Would it not be better, sir, that I went in alone. If there is to be an explanation between Mr Trevanion and myself, would it not seem as if your presence implied either a request to him that would lower us both, or a doubt of me that--" "You will go in alone, of course: I will wait for you--" "Not in the streets--oh no, father," cried I, touched inexpressibly. For all this was so unlike my father's habits, that I felt remorse to have so communicated my young griefs to the calm dignity of his serene life. "My son, you do not know how I love you. I have only known it myself lately. Look you, I am living in you now, my first-born; not in my other son--the great book: I must have my way. Go in; that is the door, is it not?" I pressed my father's hand, and I felt then, that, while that hand could reply to mine, even the loss of Fanny Trevanion could not leave the world a blank. How much we have before us in life, while we retain our parents! How much to strive and to hope for! What a motive in the conquest of our sorrow--that they may not sorrow with us! CHAPTER XLI. I entered Trevanion's study. It was an hour in which he was rarely at home, but I had not thought of that; and I saw without surprise that, contrary to his custom, he was in his armchair, reading one of his favourite classic authors, instead of being in some committee room of the House of Commons. "A pretty fellow you are," said he, looking up, "to leave me all the morning, without rhyme or reason. And my committee is postponed--chairman ill--people who get ill should not go into the House of Commons. So here I am, looking into Propertius: Parr is right; not so elegant a writer as Tibullus. But what the deuce are you about?--why don't you sit down? Humph! you look grave--you have something to say,--say it!" And, putting down Propertius, the acute, sharp face of Trevanion instantly became earnest and attentive. "My dear Mr Trevanion," said I, with as much steadiness as I could assume, "you have been most kind to me; and, out of my own family, there is no man I love and respect more." TREVANION.--Humph! What's all this! (_In an under tone_)--Am I going to be taken in?