CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
STRONG HEARTS AND WEAK TEMPERS.
In the sad confusion which followed upon Mrs Ingleton's sudden death, no one appeared to remark the abrupt departure of Mr Robert Ratman.
Roger certainly never bestowed a thought on the occurrence, and if any of the other members of the household thought twice about it, they all-- even Jill--kept their ideas on the subject to themselves.
To Roger the week that followed his twentieth birthday was the most dismal of his life.

When a similar blow had fallen months ago he had been too bewildered and benumbed to realise fully his own loss.

Now he realised everything only too vividly.
His own trouble; the loss of the last near relative he had in the world; his own sickly health, chaining him down when he would fain seek comfort in action; the uncertainty of his position as heir of Maxfield; the hopeless task before him of finding his lost brother; Rosalind's indifference to his affection--all seemed now to pile up in one great mountain to oppress him, and he half envied the gentle dead her quiet resting-place.
It was in the second week after the funeral, when Maxfield once more began to assume its normal aspect, and Captain Oliphant was allowing himself to hope that, notwithstanding the removal of his latest "dear departed," things were likely to shape themselves a trifle more comfortably for his own designs in her absence--it was in the middle of November that a letter was handed to Roger as he dressed one morning in his room.
It bore the London post-mark, and looked mysterious enough to induce Roger to lay down his brushes and open it there and then.

This is what it said:-- "Dear Roger,--You'll have been expecting to hear from me, as no doubt your moral friend, Mr Armstrong, has told you who I am.

I don't fancy you are specially pleased with the discovery, and it may suit you to turn up your nose at your affectionate brother.