and
fighting against a common enemy. He only frowned, and said, "Humph!"

He said something more, though upon another occasion, when, in obedience
to Master Rayburn's orders, Ralph was keeping quiet at home, and sitting
in his father's room, reading, and thinking about Mark Eden,
determining, too, that he would ask Master Rayburn how the lad was the
next time he came, for though family pride and old teachings had kept
him quiet, he had hoped that his doctor would volunteer the information
which had not come.

Sir Morton was poring over an old tome which dealt with alchemy and the
transmutation of metals, in which the learned writer gravely gave his
opinion about baser metals being turned into gold, all of which Sir
Morton Darley thought would be very satisfactory, as he could not
succeed in finding a profitable lead-mine on his estate, and had not
been any more successful than his forefathers in taking possession of
that belonging to the Edens.

He had just come to the way of thinking that he would begin to buy
ordinary lead and turn it into gold, when Ralph said suddenly:

"I say, father, why do we want to be at enmity with the Edens?"

Sir Morton looked up at his son, and then down at his book, as if
expecting to find an answer to the question there. Then he coughed to
clear his voice, cleared it, and coughed again, which was perfectly
unnecessary. But still the answer did not come. Finally, he replied:

"Well, you see, my boy, we always have been at enmity with them."

"Yes, I know, ever since my great, great, ever so great, grandfather's
time."

"Exactly Ralph. That's it, my boy."

"But what was the beginning of it?"

"The beginning of it--er--the--er--commencement of it--er--the family
feud. Well--er--it was something in the way of oppression, as I have
told you before. A great injury inflicted by the Edens upon the
Darleys. But it will not do your arm any good to be fidgeting about
that. I want it to heal. That can be healed; but our family feud never
can."

"Why not, father?"

"Why not? Oh, because it is contrary to nature, boy. What a question,
when you are suffering now from the way in which the deadly hatred of
the Edens comes out! Are you not wounded by a scion of the vile house?"

"Yes, father; but then young Eden is suffering too in the same way, and
I think he got the worst of it."

"I'm glad of it, Ralph. I think you behaved very bravely."

"What; in fighting the robbers?