"Why, sir," replied the captain, searching his memory for the name of this person, whose face seemed half familiar, "why should you have hesitated to hand me the packet yourself if chance had not thrown me in your way?" "Because, sir," said the other, hesitating, "I might have feared that it would be disagreeable to you to receive it at my hands. I know that Captain D'Haberville never forgets either a benefit or an injury." Captain D'Haberville stared at the stranger; then, frowning heavily, he shut his eyes and was silent for some moments. The stranger, watching him intently, could see that a violent struggle was raging in his breast. Presently Captain D'Haberville recovered his self-possession and said, with scrupulous politeness: "Let us leave to each man's own conscience the remembrance of past wrongs. You are here, Captain de Lochiel, and as the bearer of letters from my son you are entitled to every welcome on my part. The family will be glad to see you. You will receive at my house--a cordial hospitality." He was going to say bitterly a princely hospitality, but the reproach died upon his lips. The lion was as yet but half appeased. Archie instinctively put out his hand to grasp that of his old friend; but Captain D'Haberville responded with a visible effort, and his hand lay passive in the young man's clasp. A sigh burst from Archie's lips, and for a time he seemed uncertain what to do. At length he said sorrowfully: "Captain D'Haberville can refuse to forgive him whom once he loved and overwhelmed with benefits, but he has too noble a soul to wantonly inflict a punishment too great to be endured. To see again the places which will recall such poignant memories will be trial enough in itself, without meeting there the cold welcome which hospitality extends to the stranger. Farewell, Captain D'Haberville; farewell forever to him whom I once called my father, if he will no longer regard me as a son. I call Heaven to witness that every hour has been embittered with remorse since the fatal day when my duty as a soldier under orders forced me to enact a barbarism at which my very soul sickened. I swear to you that a great weight has lain ceaselessly upon my heart, through the hours of excitement on the battle-field, of gayety at ball and festival, not less than through the silence of the long and weary nights. Farewell forever, for I perceive that you have refused to hear from the lips of the good superior the story of my pain and my despair. Farewell for the last time, and, since all intercourse must cease between us, tell me, oh, tell me, I implore you, that some measure of peace and happiness has been restored to your family! Oh, tell me that you are not continually miserable! Nothing remains for me but to pray God on my knees that he will shed his best blessings on a family which I so deeply love! To offer to repair with my own fortune the losses which I caused would be an insult to a D'Haberville."