"I did hear that Colonel Vivian, an excellent officer and honorable man,
had been in--in--" (Roland's voice faltered) "in great grief about his
son, whom, a mere boy, he had prevented from some improper marriage, and
who had run away and left him,--it was supposed for America. The story
affected me at the time," added my uncle, trying to speak calmly.

We were all silent, for we felt why Roland was so disturbed, and why
Colonel Vivian's grief should have touched him home. Similarity in
affliction makes us brothers even to the unknown.

"You say he is going home to his family,--I am heartily glad of it!"
said the envying old soldier, gallantly.

The lights came in then, and two minutes after, Uncle Roland and I were
nestled close to each other, side by side; and I was reading over his
shoulder, and his finger was silently resting on that passage that had
so struck him: "I have not complained, have I, sir? And I won't
complain!"