while a silence more expressive than a deep-drawn sigh. “You have no children,” he said at last. 
“Don’t tell me,” Felix exclaimed, “that your charming young people are a source of grief to you!” 
“I don’t speak of Charlotte.” And then, after a pause, Mr. Wentworth continued, “I don’t speak of Gertrude. But I feel considerable anxiety about Clifford. I will tell you another time.” 
The next time he gave Felix a sitting his nephew reminded him that he had taken him into his confidence. “How is Clifford today?” Felix asked. “He has always seemed to me a young man of remarkable discretion. Indeed, he is only too discreet; he seems on his guard against me—as if he thought me rather light company. The other day he told his sister—Gertrude repeated it to me—that I was always laughing at him. If I laugh it is simply from the impulse to try and inspire him with confidence. That is the only way I have.” 
“Clifford’s situation is no laughing matter,” said Mr. Wentworth. “It is very peculiar, as I suppose you have guessed.” 
“Ah, you mean his love affair with his cousin?” 
Mr. Wentworth stared, blushing a little. “I mean his absence from college. He has been suspended. We have decided not to speak of it unless we are asked.” 
“Suspended?” Felix repeated. 
“He has been requested by the Harvard authorities to absent himself for six months. Meanwhile he is studying with Mr. Brand. We think Mr. Brand will help him; at least we hope so.” 
“What befell him at college?” Felix asked. “He was too fond of pleasure? Mr. Brand certainly will not teach him any of those secrets!” 
“He was too fond of something of which he should not have been fond. I suppose it is considered a pleasure.” 
Felix gave his light laugh. “My dear uncle, is there any doubt about its being a pleasure? C’est de son âge, as they say in France.” 
“I should have said rather it was a vice of later life—of disappointed old age.” 
Felix glanced at his uncle, with his lifted eyebrows, and then, “Of what are you speaking?” he demanded, smiling. 
“Of the situation in which Clifford was found.” 
“Ah, he was found—he was caught?” 
“Necessarily, he was caught. He couldn’t walk; he staggered.” 
“Oh,” said Felix, “he drinks! I rather suspected that, from something I observed the first day I came here. I quite agree with you that it is a low taste. It’s not a vice for a gentleman. He ought to give it up.” 
“We hope for a good deal from Mr. Brand’s influence,” Mr. Wentworth went on. “He has talked to him from the first. And he never touches anything himself.” 
“I will talk to him—I will talk to him!” Felix declared, gayly. 
“What will you say to him?” asked his uncle, with some apprehension. 
Felix for some moments answered nothing. “Do you mean to marry him to his cousin?” he asked at last. 
“Marry him?” echoed 

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