"What object is that?" asked Lady Ellinor, hesitatingly.

"Independence for myself, and ease to those for whom life is still
sweet. This is my twofold object; and the means to effect it must be my
own heart and my own hands. And now, convey all my thanks to your noble
husband, and accept my warm prayers for yourself and her--whom I will
not name. Farewell, Lady Ellinor!"

"No, do not leave me so hastily; I have many things to discuss with
you,--at least to ask of you. Tell me how your father bears his
reverse,--tell me at least if there be aught he will suffer us to do for
him? There are many appointments in Trevanion's range of influence that
would suit even the wilful indolence of a man of letters. Come, be
frank with me!"

I could not resist so much kindness; so I sat down, and as collectedly
as I could, replied to Lady Ellinor's questions, and sought to convince
her that my father only felt his losses so far as they affected me, and
that nothing in Trevanion's power was likely to tempt him from his
retreat, or calculated to compensate for a change in his habits.
Turning at last from my parents, Lady Ellinor inquired for Roland, and
on learning that he was with me in town, expressed a strong desire to
see him. I told her I would communicate her wish, and she then said
thoughtfully,--

"He has a son, I think; and I have heard that there is some unhappy
dissension between them."

"Who could have told you that?" I asked in surprise, knowing how closely
Roland had kept the secret of his family afflictions.