place, would be unjust, would be impossible for--well, one of
us, Sutcombe."

"And--and there's Percy, my son," went on the Marquess, as if he
ignored, or had not heard, the other man's assurance. "It's hard on me,
but it's harder on him; for I--well, I am well-nigh weary of everything,
of life itself. My wife died--you may have heard of it--there was
nothing left but Percy, and--yes, perhaps you know it--he's a bad lot.
He has given me a great deal of trouble, will give me more. He has
married beneath him. I had hoped, much as I disapprove of the match,
that it might steady him; but I fear----All the same, bad as he is, it's
hard on him----"

The Marquess wiped the sweat from his brow and stifled a groan.

"You distress yourself without cause, Talbot. I am sorry to hear that
you are not happy, that your son is not--satisfactory. I have not come
to add to your unhappiness. Believe that."

"Then why _have_ you disturbed me?" demanded the Marquess, desperately.

"I will tell you," said Mr. Clendon. "Will you not come and sit down? Be
calm, and listen to me quietly. Accept my assurance that I have no
intention whatever, and never shall have, of taking my proper place, of
depriving you of all I resigned. If I ever had any desire to do so, that
desire would have died since I entered this house. Are you any happier,
Talbot, for the burden which I laid down, resigned to you? I am poor, as
you see,"--he glanced at his old, worn clothes--"but----"

The Marquess broke in impatiently.

"Oh, I see that. You look--look as if you'd had bad times; you look old
enough to be my father. You look--are dressed--in rags. Do you think
that doesn't worry me, and add to my misery? Do you think that, ever
since you entered and I recognized you, I haven't been saying to myself,
'This is my elder brother; this old, haggard-looking man, clad like a
beggar, is the Marquess of Sutcombe and you are an impostor'?"

"Grant the case as you put it. I am poor, but not unhappy. I will
venture to say that I am far happier than you, Talbot," said Mr.
Clendon, his dark eyes scanning the careworn face of the Marquess. "I
have my niche in the world; I earn my living, such as it is; I am free
from care; I have enough laid by to save me from a pauper's grave, while
you----"

"Oh, I'm unhappy enough, I'll admit," said the Marquess, with a deep
sigh. "I hold your place, and all that it means in the way of money and
power; but I'm alone in the world, worse