hat kind of a life we should lead now that Wilfred had come back. I
felt in some way that I had no right to my father's estate; I was not
fit for it, and that I lived there on my brother's bounty.

These thoughts were disturbed by the sound of voices, and looking up I
saw a sight that caused my brain to whirl and my heart to throb
violently.

Wilfred and Ruth were walking arm-in-arm, and he was looking at her at
once tenderly and with an air of proprietorship. Then I knew what I
did not know before, then I realised what nearly drove me mad. I loved
Ruth Morton with all the strength of my being, while she, I could tell
from the tender confiding look on her face, was in love with my brother
Wilfred.

I staggered to my feet, scarcely knowing what I was doing, and stared
them in the face foolishly.

"Ah, Roger," said Wilfred, lightly, "enjoying yourself in the old way?
All play and no work. Happy fellow, you, Roger; but then, some people
are born lucky."

I felt myself treated as a child. There was a jeering look upon his
face as he spoke, and his tone was that of a man speaking to another of
inferior intellect.

I did not answer his sally. I only felt desirous of joining in their
walk, of having a chance, no less than he, of speaking to Ruth; so I
stammered out:

"You are going for a walk; let me go with you."

He did not hesitate a minute before replying, and in the same tone as
he spoke before.

"You won't mind, I'm sure, Roger, when I tell you that we prefer taking
this walk alone. We haven't met for three years, and have so much to
say to each other."

Again I was treated as a child, and I became angry. I was about to say
something very foolish, but before I could utter the words they were
gone, and I heard Wilfred laugh a low, jibing kind of laugh.

I think I was mad during the remainder of that afternoon. My brain was
on fire, and everything seemed to whirl around me. My love was no
sooner known to myself than the object of it was snatched from me by
another, and that other my other brother.

I tried to convince myself that he was more worthy than I. I told
myself that I was a country bumpkin, an ignorant clown, and unworthy to
aspire to a maiden like Ruth Morton. That I was under a curse, that I
dared not leave the Trewinion lands for six months at a time, and that
it was better she should love Wilfred. This however, did not satisfy
me. Try as I would to stifle it, I could not help thin