ght be supposed to
subdue the senses of a dying man. He was on the eve of a change, which
appeared to him almost as great as death; and the knowledge of that
gave him a curious stillness of composure--almost a reluctance to
speak. Strangely enough, each brother at this critical moment felt it
necessary to occupy himself with the affairs of the other, and to
postpone the consideration of his own.

"I hope you have changed your mind a little since we last met," said
Frank; "your last letter--"

"We'll talk of that presently," said the elder brother; "in the mean
time I want to know about _you_. What is all this? My father is in a
great state of anxiety. He does not seem to have got rid of his fancy
that you were somehow involved with Jack--and Jack is here," said
Gerald, with a look which betokened some anxiety on his own part. "I
wish you would give me your confidence. Right or wrong, I have come to
stand by you, Frank," said the Rector of Wentworth, rather mournfully.
He had been waiting at Mrs Hadwin's for the last two hours. He had
seen that worthy woman's discomposed looks, and felt that she did not
shake her head for nothing. Jack had been the bugbear of the family
for a long time past. Gerald was conscious of adding heavily at the
present moment to the Squire's troubles. Charley was at Malta, in
indifferent health; all the others were boys. There was only Frank to
give the father a little consolation; and now Frank, it appeared, was
most deeply compromised of all; no wonder Gerald was sad. And then he
drew forth the anonymous letter which had startled all the Wentworths
on the previous night. "This is written by somebody who hates you,"
said the elder brother; "but I suppose there must be some meaning in
it. I wish you would be frank with me, and tell me what it is."

This appeal had brought them to Mrs Hadwin's door, which the Curate
opened with his key before he answered his brother. The old lady
herself was walking in the garden in a state of great agitation, with
a shawl thrown over the best cap, which she had put on in honour of
the stranger. Mrs Hadwin's feelings were too much for her at that
moment. Her head was nodding with the excitement of age, and injured
virtue trembled in every line of her face. "Mr Wentworth, I cannot put
up with it any longer; it is a thing I never was used to," she cried,
as soon as the Curate came within hearing. "I have shut my eyes to a
great deal, but I cannot bear it any lon