The Captain sprang to his feet, and began whistling; a habit with him when he was much disturbed.
"And Trevanion wishes to see us. Pisistratus promised to give him our address: shall he do so, Roland?"
"If you like it," answered the Captain, in a military attitude, and drawing himself up till he looked seven feet high.
"I should like it," said my father mildly. "Twenty years since we met."
"More than twenty," said my uncle, with a stern smile; "and the season was—the fall of the leaf!"
"Man renews the fibre and material of his body every seven years," said my father; "in three times seven years he has time to renew the inner man. Can two passengers in yonder street be more unlike each other, than the soul is to the soul after an interval of twenty years? Brother, the plough does not pass over the soil in vain, nor care over the human heart. New crops change the character of the land; and the plough must go deep indeed before it stirs up the mother-stone."
"Let us see Trevanion," cried my uncle: then, turning to me, he said, abruptly, "what family has he?"
"One daughter."
"No son?"
"No."