"But not with the same mother. You know that. Has she told you?"

I nodded.

For a minute he did not speak, but looked at me with such a stony stare
that his face seemed entirely changed; then he said slowly, but
distinctly:

"I hate you."

"Come, Wilfred," I said, "let the dark past be buried. We can make
some arrangement about the property, if any remains, that will be
agreeable to us both. I have no heart to quarrel about money."

"Share with you, when I have been master and have had entire control?"
he said. "Never!"

"Nay, Wilfred, be not so hard. Don't let us remember those things that
will cause bitter feelings, but think of what is bright and pleasant."

"Bright and pleasant," he answered; "what is there bright and pleasant
for me now you have returned? Nay, nay, I am accursed; but, by
heavens, so are you."

"And you will not shake hands?"

"Never."

At this moment a servant entered the room with the message that our
mother wanted to see us both in her private sitting room.

Neither of us delayed in answering her summons, and in a minute more we
were seated near her. I thought I detected a change in her face as I
entered; something of her harshness had gone, and a look of tender
longing had taken its place.

"Mother," I said, as naturally as I could, "I have been very forgetful
and unbrotherly, but I have heard nothing of my sisters, are they well
and happy, can you tell me anything about them?"

"Both are married and both are happy and well," she replied absently;
"but we can talk of them on some other occasion. I want us to speak of
something else just now."

"Yes, mother."

"Roger, will you give us an account of what you were doing and where
you went during those years you were absent from us."

I told her all, not in such great detail as I have written it here, but
I told her enough to give her the information she desired to know. It
took me a long while, but she sat patiently during the whole time,
listening attentively to every word, while Wilfred sat with the same
stony stare upon his handsome face.

When I had finished she rose and took Wilfred's right hand in her left
hand, and my right hand in hers and tried to draw us together.

"Roger and Wilfred, shake hands," she said.

"Gladly," I replied.

"Never," cried Wilfred, drawing his hand away. "Mother, do not think
that the hatred of a lifetime can be destroyed in a moment of weakness.
It took you years to teach m