"To-morrow morning," replied Mr. Robert Carlaw, thrusting the money into his breast pocket. "To-night I shall sleep soundly, for the first time for many weeks; I do not sleep soundly when I am troubled about those who are near and dear to me. Yes, I return to-morrow morning." They parted, and Comethup went slowly back to the hotel. No mention had been made by his aunt about any probable date of return; they had merely wandered from city to city as the whim took them, Miss Carlaw having always in her mind the desire to teach him forgetfulness. Therefore, when he went to her that night and stated, with what carelessness he might, that he should like to return to London at once, she was naturally somewhat startled. Even while he was speaking and urging excuses for no longer remaining abroad she was casting about in her mind to discover the real reason of this step he contemplated; she began at last to fear that she understood the reason only too well. "Come, my dear boy, what ails you? What's the reason of this sudden change of plan? There's nothing troubling you, is there? You've had no--no letters, no bad news, to worry you? Won't you tell me?" To tell her was, of course, impossible. Even if he could have kept back that former story of all the money he had paid away, he could not now explain that this girl, who had left him for another, was in want, and that he, the man she had cast aside, was to relieve her. That, of course, could never be explained--would never be understood. Although his aunt had scarcely mentioned the matter to him, he felt, from something she had once said, that she knew the story of the marriage, and knew that Brian was 'Linda's husband. Probably the captain had told her. But Comethup saw clearly before him that there was but one course he could adopt--that of silence. He could not bear to think that any action of 'Linda's, or of those belonging to her, should be misunderstood. "No, of course I have had no bad news. What should make you think that? Only I am a little tired of travelling, and you know London is always delightful; I've heard you say that. My dear aunt, I know you only undertook this journey because you thought I should like it. Won't you go back to please me also?" "Ah! you're keeping something from me; there's something hidden away in your heart that you won't tell me. There! I'm not inquisitive--no more than the rest of my sex; but I'd like to give you a word of warning, boy. You've not been happy lately--oh, I know!--although you haven't said a word about it; I'm too fond of you not to notice every little sign. My dear boy, there's something I never meant to refer to; it's a story that's best left alone. Comethup, you're not--not hungering after her still, are you?" "No," he replied.