Randolph, seated near him, his elbow on his knee, and his forehead supported by his hand, was buried in thought. His face was averted from the light: the varied emotions which convulsed it in every lineament, were concealed from the observation of Bernard Lynn.
Thus they remained for a long time, each buried in his own peculiar thoughts.
"Randolph," said Bernard Lynn,—and there was something so changed and singular in his tone, that Randolph started—"draw near to me. I wish to speak with you."
Randolph looked up, and was astonished by the change which had passed over the face of the traveler. His eyes flashed wildly, his features were one moment fixed and rigid and the next, tremulous and quivering with strong emotion; the veins were swollen on his broad forehead.
"Randolph," he said, in a low, agitated voice, "I am a Carolinian."
"A Carolinian?" echoed Randolph.
"The name of Bernard Lynn is not my real name. It is an assumed name, Randolph. Assumed, do you hear me?" his eyes flashed more wildly, and he seized Randolph's hand, and unconsciously wrung it with an almost frenzied clutch—"Assumed some seventeen years ago, when I forsook my home, my native soil, and became a miserable wanderer on the face of the earth. Do you know why I assumed that name,—do you know?—"
He paused as if suffocated by his emotions. After a moment he resumed in a lower, deeper voice,—
"Did you ever hear the name of —— ——?"
"It is the name of one of the first and oldest families of Carolina," responded Randolph. "A name renowned in her history, but now extinct, I believe."