at all related to a family not a hundred miles away from Maplehurst?'

His voice sounded hard and satirical in the darkness. 'I wish you would
not ask me such a question, Mr. Hamilton,' I returned, much distressed.
'It was not my fault: I did not wish--' But he interrupted me.

'Of course; I knew it. When am I ever deceived by a face or manner? Not
by yours, certainly. So my good old friend told you about that miserable
affair. I wish she had held her tongue a little longer. I wish--'

But I burst out, full of remorse,--

'Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I am so sorry! I have no right to know, but indeed
I was hardly to blame.'

'Who says you are to blame?' he returned, so harshly that I remained
silent: 'it is no fault of yours if people will not be silent. But all
the same I am sorry that you know; your opinion of me is quite changed
now, eh? You think me a hard-hearted taskmaster of a brother. Well, it
does not matter: Gladys would have made you believe that in time.'

His voice was so full of concentrated bitterness that I longed to say
something consoling; in his own fashion he had been kind to me, and I
did not wish to misjudge him.

'I know your sister Gladys sufficiently to be sure that she will never
act ungenerously by her brother,' I returned hotly. 'Mr. Hamilton, you
need not say such things: it is not for me to judge.'

'But all the same you will judge,' he replied moodily. 'Oh, I know how
you good women cling together: you know nothing of a man's nature; you
cannot estimate his difficulties; because he has not got your sweet
nature, because he cannot bear insolence patiently--Oh,' with an
abruptness that was almost rude but for the concealed pain in his voice,
'I am not going to excuse myself to you: why should I? I have only to
account to my Maker and my own conscience,' And he was actually walking
off in the darkness, for we were now in sight of the parlour window, but
I called him back so earnestly that he could not refuse to obey.

'Mr. Hamilton, pray do not leave me like this; it makes me unhappy. Do
you know it is Christmas Eve?'

'Well, what of that?' with a short laugh.

'People ought not to quarrel and be disagreeable to each other on
Christmas Eve.'

'I am afraid, Miss Garston, that I do feel intensely disagreeable this
evening.'

'Yes, but you must try and forgive me all the same. I could not quite
help myself; but indeed I do not mean to judge you or any one, and I
should like you to shake han