ago wild horses would not have extorted the confession from
him. But somehow or other, as he looked at her standing there, he could
not help himself.

"Roger has got an impression that his elder brother is still living, and
is to be found; and, if found, that he ought to be made possessor of
Maxfield. I am unable to sympathise in what I look upon as an
unprofitable quest. That is the whole story."

"Why cannot you back him up, Mr Armstrong?"

"I believe his fancy is utterly groundless; besides which, if the person
he believes to be the missing brother is really Roger Ingleton, to
discover him would mean disgrace to Maxfield, and an injury to the name
of Ingleton."

"What! Mr Armstrong, do you mean to say--"

"I mean to say that Mr Robert Ratman claims to be the lost elder
brother, and that Roger credits the story. Miss Oliphant, I am grateful
to you for sharing this confidence with me. You can help Roger in this
matter better than I can."

She looked at him with a flush in her face, and then replied rather
dismally, "I fear not--for, to be as frank with you as you are with me,
I am dreadfully afraid Roger is right. The same fancy passed through my
mind when first I saw Mr Ratman. I had recently been studying the lost
brother's portrait, you know, and was struck and horrified by the
resemblance. Mr Armstrong," added she, after a pause, "if I were
Roger's guardian and tutor, I would stand by him all the more that his
duty is an unpleasant one. Thank you; here we are at the gate. Good-
bye. I hope you will have a pleasant time at Oxford."

And she passed in, leaving the good man in a sad state of bewilderment
and perplexity.

He started a day or two later in a somewhat depressed frame of mind for
Oxford, where he astonished and delighted most of his old creditors by
calling and paying off a further instalment of his debts to them. But
his satisfaction in this act of restitution was sadly tempered by the
sense of coercion put upon him by the doctor and Rosalind, and the
conviction that, wise or foolish, pleasant or unpleasant, his place was
at his young pupil's side. No excuse, or pleadings of a false pride,
could dispel the feeling. No, he must climb down, own himself wrong,
and sue for permission to assist in a quest in which he had little faith
and still less inclination.

While he is making up his mind, it may be worth the reader's while to
remark what was happening at Maxfield.

Tom and Jill