CHAPTER XXVIII.
My Brother's Arrival--The Interview--Night--A Dying Father--Christ.
At last my brother arrived; he looked pale and unwell; I met him at the door.

"You have been long absent!" said I.
"Yes," said he, "perhaps too long; but how is my father ?" "Very poorly," said I, "he has had a fresh attack; but where have you been of late ?" "Far and wide," said my brother; "but I can't tell you anything now, I must go to my father.

It was only by chance that I heard of his illness." "Stay a moment," said I.

"Is the world such a fine place as you supposed it to be before you went away ?" "Not quite," said my brother, "not quite; indeed I wish--but ask me no questions now, I must hasten to my father." There was another question on my tongue, but I forbore; for the eyes of the young man were full of tears.

I pointed with my finger, and the young man hastened past me to the arms of his father.
I forbore to ask my brother whether he had been to old Rome.
What passed between my father and brother I do not know; the interview, no doubt, was tender enough, for they tenderly loved each other; but my brother's arrival did not produce the beneficial effect upon my father which I at first hoped it would; it did not even appear to have raised his spirits.