face was tanned by
constant exposure to sun, salt-wind, and rain; his hair was cut short,
his face shaven.

The very clothes James Mottram wore were in almost ludicrous contrast to
those which Charles Nagle affected, for Mottram's were always of
serviceable homespun. But for the fact that they and he were
scrupulously clean, the man now walking by Catherine Nagle's side might
have been a prosperous farmer or bailiff instead of the owner of such
large property in those parts as made him, in spite of his unpopular
faith, lord of the little world about him.

On his plain face and strong, sturdy figure Catherine's beautiful eyes
dwelt with unconscious relief. She was so weary of Charles's absorption
in his apparel, and of his interest in the hundred and one fal-lals
which then delighted the cosmopolitan men of fashion.

A simple, almost childish gladness filled her heart. Conscience, but
just now so insistent and disturbing a familiar, vanished for a space,
nay more, assumed the garb of a meddling busybody who seeks to discover
harm where no harm is.

Was not James Mottram Charles's friend, almost, as the old priest had
said, Charles's brother? Had she not herself deliberately chosen Charles
in place of James when both young men had been in ardent pursuit of
her--James's pursuit almost wordless, Charles's conducted with all the
eloquence of the poet he had then set out to be?

Mottram, seeing her in the wood, uttered a word of surprise. She
explained her presence there. Their hands scarce touched in greeting,
and then they started walking side by side up the field path.

Mottram carried a stout ash stick. Had the priest been there he would
perchance have noticed that the man's hand twitched and moved restlessly
as he swung his stick about; but Catherine only became aware that her
companion was preoccupied and uneasy after they had gone some way.

When, however, the fact of his unease seemed forced upon her notice, she
felt suddenly angered. There was a quality in Mrs. Nagle that made her
ever ready to rise to meet and conquer circumstance. She told herself,
with heightened colour, that James Mottram should and must return to his
old ways--to his old familiar footing with her. Anything else would be,
nay was, intolerable.

"James,"--she turned to him frankly--"why have you not come over to see
us lately as often as you did? Charles misses you sadly, and so do I.
Prepare to find him in a bad mood to-day. But just no