abruptly, "What family has he?"

"One daughter."

"No son?"

"No."

"That must vex the poor, foolish, ambitious man. Oho! you admire this
Mr. Trevanion much, eh? Yes, that fire of manner, his fine words, and
bold thoughts, were made to dazzle youth."

"Fine words, my dear uncle,--fire! I should have said, in hearing Mr.
Trevanion, that his style of conversation was so homely you would wonder
how he could have won such fame as a public speaker."

"Indeed!"

"The plough has passed there," said my father.

"But not the plough of care: rich, famous, Ellinor his wife, and no
son!"

"It is because his heart is sometimes sad that he would see us."

Roland stared first at my father, next at me. "Then," quoth my uncle,
heartily, "in God's name, let him come. I can shake him by the hand, as
I would a brother soldier. Poor Trevanion! Write to him at once,
Sisty."