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.She had turned from him, and her head hanging now she muttered an apology, Tm sorry. I'm sorry. It's inexcusable. I . . .'Then one hand came on her shoulders and the other lifted up her chin and he said,

'Look at me, Bridget, and go on from where you stopped in your tirade.*'It was nothing. I didn't mean ...

I just . . . Well, you know I don't care for your . . . your brother.''Yes, I know you don't care for him.

But dislike and hating are two different things

302and, coming on top of our conversation, I'm going to ask you a straight question, and it is this: was Lionel responsible for this girl's condition?'She looked into his eyes. The expression in them was one she hadn't seen before: there was no trace of kindness or humour or the critical enquiry that sometimes accompanied a question; the look in them now made her feel afraid of imparting the truth. Yet, she knew that the truth had already pierced his mind, and so, for answer she muttered, 'Yes, he was.'He withdrew his hands from her and stepped aside while his gaze still remained on her, then turned away and stood at the head of the couch with his back to her. His body was straight and taut and he appeared to her at this moment to have put inches on to his height. She was suddenly full of concern at the outcome of what she had inadvertently revealed to him. Going quickly to him, she said, 'Please, Douglas, will you consider this just as something between us two? If you don't, there's going to be more unhappiness.'When he didn't answer, she went on talk-303ing, quickly now, almost at a gabble. 'She wouldn't have told me ... I mean Lily, but I offered to bring her here, and the child, and to take care of them. And her response to this was much the same as mine a few minutes ago: she knew if she were to come and live here she would, some day, come face to face with him. Then there was the child, his child. And you can see now that this is why Joe kept quiet because the revelation would certainly have put an end to Victoria's engagement, as it was then.*When still he didn't answer, she began to plead: 'Please, Douglas, I don't want to hurt her. We have fallen out.

She is really unhappy; she hasn't settled into your home. Please.*'All right. All right.' He was patting her hand in a way that showed his own agitation. And he added now, 'I'll promise you that she won't be hurt; but I must face him with it. And to think'-he now put his hand to his head-'they discussed it at the table . .

. well, at least Father did when the man was hanged. And the conclusion he came to, as did others who were there, was that the child was his brother's, and that's why he 304had killed him. And everybody thinks the same.''Everybody?''Well, that was the opinion that was going around during the trial when he wouldn't say who the father of the child was. And then there was that barrister. He led up to it, likely thinking it would create sympathy for the man.' There was a pause in his speaking; then, looking at her intently, he asked, 'Why should he kill his brother if that wasn't the case?''He didn't kill him. I'm more sure of that now. At one time I began to think, too, that if it was his brother, there was the reason for his action. But now I know ... I know he didn't kill him. His last words to me were that he was innocent. He had never done this thing. I told you.'Douglas walked away from her and picked up his hat which he had laid on a chair, before turning to her again and asking, 'When are you leaving here?''A prospective buyer is coming tomorrow to view, but in any case I am taking most of the good furniture down to the other house, and storing it. I have plans for rebuilding 305some old barns. But until this place is sold, Jessie and Danny will remain to see to things. In the meantime the rest of my small staff will come with me.''Oh.' He paused and stared at her for a time, then went on, 'In case I don't see you again before you leave, will you give me your address?''Yes. Yes, of course,' she said. 'It is called Meadow House. It is on the Sunderland road out of Shields. Just beyond Harton village there's a bridle path. We're a little way along: there's a sign indicating the house, you can't miss it. You . . . you could get a cab from the station.' She held out her hand to him. 'I hope you will come.''Oh, I'll come. Never fear of that, I'll come.' He almost added, 'If it's only to tell you I've killed my brother,' for at the moment that was how he was feeling.As he turned away from her and went hurriedly from the room and out onto the drive, where he mounted his horse, he asked himself why he should be feeling so furious, for he had always known that Lionel had played around, with little discrimination in his choice. That, of course, was before he

306became enamoured of Elizabeth Porter, an attachment that had gone on for some time, likely because of the little risk attached to it, as her husband was still in India. He would still have been seeing her when he gave that girl the child. It must have been about that time, too, when he cast his sights on what he imagined was the rich Miss Victoria Mordaunt.And that fellow Joe had kept quiet about the whole affair in order not to hurt Bridget or her dear cousin, who was then so shortly to be Lionel's bride. However, as Bridget had said, it really had nothing to do with Joe's case.Of a sudden he pulled his horse to a stop, and the action must have brought his thinking to a similar state, for the thought that had just a moment before presented itself to him had now fled, and the harder he tried to recall it the further it receded into the distance. The only part of it that was left was something to do with a horse. It was as though he had just woken from a dream.He jerked the reins again and walked his horse for the remainder of the distance to the house.

307After stabling it, he was making his way across the yard to his workshop for there, in the presence of the stone, he always felt relaxed and at peace, and he must calm his inner feelings before he met up with his brother; but this was denied him, for there, coming out of the tack room, was Lionel himself.They would have passed, without greetings, within a few yards of each other, but Douglas looked towards Lionel and said, without preamble, 'I want to speak to you.''What?''I want to speak to you.''Oh, you do, do you?'As Douglas moved on towards the end of the buildings he felt that Lionel must have remained standing where he was, and so he turned and said, This is important.''So is my desire for food at the moment; I have been out all day. If you want to speak to me you'll find me in the dining-room,' and Lionel made to turn away, only to be checked by Douglas, retorting, *I shouldn't think you'd like to hear what I've got to say in the dining-room. Exposures are never pleasant.'

308Lionel's head jerked to the side as if he were looking around the yard to make sure there was no one who could have been within hearing distance; then it seemed he had to make an effort to step forward and follow Douglas, although not immediately, into the now dim workshop. He stood within the doorway waiting for his brother to light a lamp. When, presently, the long low room was illuminated he slowly stepped forward and closed the doors behind him, before moving towards where Douglas was standing near a long bench on whose battered top lay a number of mallets and chisels.He stopped within a couple of yards of him, but he didn't speak. And when Douglas said grimly, 'You are a rotter, a really beastly individual. You know that?' he winced; then his voice scarcely above a whisper, he said, 'What d'you mean to do?' And Douglas answered, 'There's nothing I can do. The girl bore your son, and her husband knew who the father was, but he went to his end keeping silent about it so that Bridget wouldn't be troubled and hurt by the fact that her cousin was marrying his wife's seducer.'Douglas now watched Lionel's head

309droop towards his chest and his shoulders actually begin to shake. He saw him glance along the bench towards an upturned box, then go to it and flop down onto it. And when he placed his elbows on the rough bench and dropped his face onto his hands, his whole attitude assuming one of distress, Douglas's feelings towards him almost turned a somersault, and his next words were spoken quietly:

'Well, it's over and done with,' he said; 'Bridget is going to see to her and educate the boy.'But almost in the next instant his attitude changed again, to amazement now, as Lionel looked up, his face crinkled with laughter, a gurgle in his voice, as he said, 'You are a funny fellow, Doug. You really don't belong in this time. You would do well up in Victoria's court, you would really. So I have a bastard son? My dear fellow-' He now rose to his feet, and he actually squared his shoulders as he said, 'That's the only one I know of; but the county, in fact the whole country's dotted with 'em. Not mine, of course, not mine.' His row of even white teeth were gleaming in the lamplight, and as Douglas 310stared at him they seemed to grow longer and become fangs.He watched him now take a handkerchief and wipe the sweat from his brow, and the smile seeming not to have left his face, he said,

'What's your next move, brother? Do you intend to inform Victoria of my vileness?'Douglas found he had to force himself to speak. 'No. She'll find that out for herself before long, I'm sure,' he said. 'Likely at the same time as she learns you had to be paid to marry her.'The smile slowly faded from Lionel's face, and his changed feelings were further emphasized in his voice, low now, as he ground out, 'Well, let me tell you something, brother. I'm having to earn that every day. And I wouldn't care if it was made known to her tomorrow. My God! What I'd like to do at this minute is to knock you flat on your skinny back.'At this Douglas stepped forward and his voice, too, registered his feelings as he growled, 'Then why don't you try? You'd be in for a surprise, because you're nothing but flab and wind. Your paunch will soon be like

311Bather's. My skinny back, you say. Well, my skinny arms are flint-hard from working with that!' And he thrust his arm out towards a lump of stone. 'So, come on. Have atry. I challenge you. There's nothing more I'd like to do at this moment but to drive myfist into your face and my knee into your pot'Huh!'

There was scorn in the sound, yet (Lionel did not attempt to step forward; but it was evident that his brother's remarks had struck home, for he seemed to gain height as he pulled his stomach in and thrust his shoulders back before turning away and marching out of the building.Douglas stood where he was for a moment; then he turned and, going to the bench, he lifted up a mallet and began to beat it on the wood, just small taps as if he were applying it to a chisel; and all the while his mind was groping again at that distant something that was troubling him.When, presently, his gioping conjured up his brother's face that only a few minutes before had blanched, he asked himself why it should have when seconds later he had shaken with laughter, and that laughter had

312conveyed relief. But from what? Had he expected to be accused of something else besides giving the child to that girl?He laid the mallet aside and slowly walked to the door, but there he stopped. He should go into supper, but he couldn't tolerate the thought of sitting opposite his brother, or listening to his father entertaining Victoria with anecdotes that would become more risque with each glass of wine he consumed, and listening to Victoria's giggles when she wouldn't really be aware of the meaning of the innuendoes.However, he knew his absence from the supper table wouldn't be questioned, for he often worked late, and so he took the back staircase that gave on to the end of the gallery, then made for his bedroom. There, he sat by his window for some time, but try as he might he could not get his mind to reveal that something that was troubling him.

He dismissed the cabbie at the gates of Meadow House, telling him not to wait as he didn't know what time he would be returning. And he pushed open the iron gates and glanced towards the small lodge to the right of him before going on up the drive. He had walked about forty yards up the slightly curving tree-bordered drive to a sharper curve, almost a bend; and there was the house. It lay beyond a wide lawn, bordered on each side by a grassy bank. The house itself was tall and appeared narrow. There was no symmetry about it. To the right side of it three windows seemed to top each other, the last one disappearing under the eaves; to the left side of the door there was a blankness. The only redeeming feature of the

314house at this moment seemed to be its stone, which was a creamy-yellow.There was a wide opening between the end of the house and the grassy bank, and he only just glimpsed that this led into a courtyard. The front door was of plain black oak, with a bell-pull to the side.He rang the bell twice before he heard a scurrying behind the door. And then it was pulled open, and there was Florrie McLean beaming at him, saying, 'Why! Mr Douglas. How nice to see you. Come on in by. Come on in.'After saying, 'Good-day, Florrie,' he stepped past her into what appeared a very narrow hallway and waited.

Having closed the door, Florrie now pushed open another that was already ajar, and he again passed her and almost stopped in surprise, for he was now in a short panelled corridor which led into a hall. This, too, was panelled, as far as he could make out, from floor to ceiling.'Oh, come an' take a seat, sir. Look, I'll send for miss. She's down at the old stables. They're doin' them up, you know. Come in the sitting room and bide there. I won't be a

315minute. She'll be delighted to see you. The fire is ablaze; it's lovely and warm in here/Again he was passing her and again he almost stopped in surprise as Florrie pointed down the long room, saying,

'Make yourself comfortable, sir. I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.'He was walking up the room now, smiling, and his eyes roaming from side to side. His view of the front of the house had certainly not kindled his imagination to assume the interior might be anything like this. The room was bright with colour, and strangely unfussy. The mantelshelf, he noticed at once, did not bear a fringed velvet border.

There were no antimacassars on the chair backs. The chesterfield fronting the fire was covered with a chintz-patterned cover, as were the two big armchairs set one at each side of the large open fireplace, in which he became immediately interested because the surround was made of carved stone.He now stood with his back to the fire and gazed about him. The walls were covered in an embossed paper; it was colourful but subdued, as was the carpet. He looked down at the carpet. It may have been a bright red at 316one time, patterned with bouquets of flowers, but now, like the rest of the room, it was subdued with wear. Right opposite him on the far wall was a Davenport. This writing desk was the only evidence of the usual finicky lady's touch in the room. On each side of it was a china cabinet and by the glint over this distance one was holding coloured glasses. There were a few occasional tables, and a sofa table at the head of the couch, but none was cluttered with knick-knacks. On one was a large bowl of coloured leaves, no flowers among them. He looked towards the door, waiting for her entrance. But after a moment he left the rug and walked further up the room to where the ceiling gave way to a narrow arch supported by columns. Beyond was what looked like a huge alcove, for in it was placed a grand piano and a number of chairs, and beyond these the whole length of the wall was taken up with an enormous window. Slowly now he walked to the window, and his surprise grew, for he was looking on to a set garden, some of the beds still showing late roses, others cleared for the winter. Putting his head closer to the window now he looked along to what appeared