In those two days Dino had an interview with Mr. Brett, from which he returned looking anxious and uneasy. He told Brian, however, nothing of its import, and Brian did not choose to ask. The day and the hour of Brian's departure came without further conversation between them on the subject which was, perhaps, nearer than any other to their hearts. Dino wanted to accompany his friend to the ship by which he was to sail: but Brian steadily refused to let him do so. It was strange to see the relation between these two. In spite of his youth, Dino usually inspired a feeling of respect in the minds of other men: his peculiarly grave and tranquil manner made him appear older and more experienced than he really was. But with Brian, he fell naturally into the position of a younger brother: he seemed to take a delight in leaning upon Brian's judgment, and surrendering his own will. He had been brought up to depend upon others in this way all through his life; but Brian saw clearly enough that the habit was contrary to his native temperament, and that, when once freed from the leading-strings in which he had hitherto been kept, he would certainly prove himself a man of remarkably strong and clear judgment. It was this conviction that caused Brian to persist in his intention of going to South America: Dino would do better when left to himself, than when leaning upon Brian, as his affection led him to do. "You will come back," said Dino, in a tone that admitted of no contradiction. "I know you will come back." "Dino mio, you will come to see me some day, perhaps," said Brian. "Listen. I leave their future in your care. Do you understand? Make it possible for them to be happy." "I will do what is possible to bring you home again." "Caro mio, that is not possible," said Brian. "Do not try. You see this letter? Keep it until I have been an hour gone; then open it. Will you promise me that?" "I promise." "And now good-bye. Success and good fortune to you," said Brian, trying to smile. "When we meet again----" "Shall we ever meet again?" said Dino, with one arm round Brian's neck, with his eyes looking straight into Brian's, with a look of pathetic longing which his friend never could forget. "Or is it a last farewell? Brother--my brother--God bless thee, and bring thee home at last." But it was of no earthly home that Dino thought. And then they parted. It was more than an hour before Dino thought of opening the letter which Brian had left with him. It ran as follows:-- "Dino mio, pardon me if I have done wrongly. You told my story and I have told yours. I feared lest you, in your generosity, should hide the truth, and therefore I have written fully to your mother. Go to her if she sends for you, and remember that she has suffered much. I have told her that you have the proofs: show them to her, and she will be convinced. God bless you, my only friend and brother."