"And what is my father like?" he asked. "Is he as young and handsome as uncle?"
"He's as young," said I "but he has black hair, and eyes; and looks sterner, and he is taller and bigger altogether. He'll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because, it is not his way—still, mind you be frank and cordial with him; and naturally, he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own."
"Black hair and eyes!" mused Linton. "I can't fancy him. Then I am not like him, am I?"
"Not much," I answered. . .Not a morsel, I thought: surveying with regret the white complexion, and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes. . .his mother's eyes save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them, a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.
"How strange that he should never come to see mama, and me" he murmured. "Has he
