as none
of the beauty that there is in death, no tragic greatness--all was
moaning and monotony. But about seven the sun tore its way back through
the swathe, and flared out. Like some huge star, whose rays were
stretching down to the horizon, and up to the very top of the hill of
air, it shone with an amazing murky glamour; the clouds splintered by its
shafts, and tinged saffron, piled themselves up as if in wonder. Under
the sultry warmth of this new great star, the heather began to steam a
little, and the glitter of its wet unopened bells was like that of
innumerable tiny smoking fires. The two brothers were drenched as they
cantered silently home. Good friends always, they had never much to say
to one another. For Miltoun was conscious that he thought on a different
plane from Bertie; and Bertie grudged even to his brother any inkling of
what was passing in his spirit, just as he grudged parting with
diplomatic knowledge, or stable secrets, or indeed anything that might
leave him less in command of life. He grudged it, because in a private
sort of way it lowered his estimation of his own stoical
self-sufficiency; it hurt something proud in the withdrawing-room of his
soul. But though he talked little, he had the power of
contemplation--often found in men of decided character, with a tendency
to liver. Once in Nepal, where he had gone to shoot, he had passed a
month quite happily with only a Ghoorka servant who could speak no
English. To those who asked him if he had not been horribly bored, he
had always answered: "Not a bit; did a lot of thinking."

With Miltoun's trouble he had the professional sympathy of a brother and
the natural intolerance of a confirmed bachelor. Women were to him very
kittle-cattle. He distrusted from the bottom of his soul those who had
such manifest power to draw things from you. He was one of those men in
whom some day a woman might awaken a really fine affection; but who,
until that time, would maintain the perfectly male attitude to the entire
sex, and, after it, to all the sex but one. Women were, like Life
itself, creatures to be watched, carefully used, and kept duly
subservient. The only allusion therefore that he made to Miltoun's
trouble was very sudden.

"Old man, I hope you're going to cut your losses."

The words were followed by undisturbed silence: But passing Mrs. Noel's
cottage Miltoun said:

"Take my horse on; I want to go in here."....

She was sittin