"My dear nephew," he said, "fortune has not been good to me. True, it has placed certain riches within my grasp; but Providence, on the other hand, has cursed me with a temperament which compels me to do all things greatly--on a large scale, as it were. I think I told you once that I felt I was meant to cut a figure--to loom large in the eye of the world. There are men cutting figures to-day who are but objects of contempt; they are not fitted, physically or mentally, for the parts they play. With me, it would have been different. I have, and I say it in all seriousness, tact, discernment, and a certain refinement, and--shall I say it?--delicacy, which all men do not possess. Yet I am a most unhappy man; I am growing old--no, do not attempt to contradict me; I feel that I am growing old--and I am compelled to seek my bread in the most precarious fashion--to be dependent even on the whim of my own son." He lowered his voice, and glanced toward the inn door. "This money you have been generous enough to place in his hands--no doubt he will spend it with what wisdom he can, but I--I shall see nothing of it. And you must be aware that there are services rendered to me daily--by servants and others in humble positions--for which a gentleman must pay, if he would keep clear that distinction which is necessary between class and mass. You grasp my meaning?" Comethup nodded. "Forgive me," he said; "I had not thought of that. Will you permit me----" "You are ever generous, my dear nephew," murmured Mr. Robert Carlaw as he thrust the flimsy banknotes into his waistcoat pocket. "Once more I can hold up my head before my fellows; once more I can feel that I am not wholly dependent on my son. Good-night, my dear friend; good-night!" Comethup was halfway home when some curious feeling made him turn in the direction of 'Linda's house. The town was quiet, and no one was in sight in any of the streets through which he passed; he crept in through the garden and went and stood under the balcony, looking up at the house, which was in complete darkness. And as he looked there came back to him the words she had uttered; not the words of comfort he had tried so resolutely to hold before him, but those others which held a vague fear for him, "What would you do if you found I did not love you?" CHAPTER XX. THE DESERTION OF A PARENT. Comethup saw but little of his cousin during the week which followed. Once or twice he met him, riding wildly about in some of the country lanes on a horse he had hired, on which occasions he drew rein with a shout, and generally announced that he was having "a splendid time," and that he would be able to go back to work feeling much better for the holiday.