Then, when for the third time Valentine woke him, he roused himself. "I think I can say it now," he observed. "I could not go home, you know, Val, till it was said."
"Till what was said, uncle?"
"I forget," was the answer. "You must help me."
Valentine suggested various things which had been discussed that day; but they did not help him, and he sank into thought.
"I hope I was not going to make any mistake," he shortly said, and Valentine began to suppose he really had something particular to say. "I think my dear brother and I decided for ever to hold our peace," he next murmured, after a long pause.
Valentine was silent. The allusion to his father made him remember how completely all the more active and eventful part of their lives had gone by for these two old men before he came into the world.
"What were you and John talking of just before he left?" said the old man, after a puzzled pause.
"Nothing of the least consequence," answered Valentine, feeling that he had forgotten what he might have meant to say. "John would be uneasy if he knew you were here still. Shall we go home?"
"Not yet. If I mentioned this, you would never tell it to my John. There is no need that my John should ever have a hint of it. You will promise not to tell him?"
"No, my dear uncle, indeed I could not think of such a thing," said Valentine, now a little uneasy. If his uncle really had something important to say, this was a strange request, and if he had not, his thoughts must be wandering.