say about your brother that chafed you so much?"

Reginald changed color, and his eyes' lighted up with passion. He did
not reply at first, but as his master seemed quietly awaiting his answer,
he at length burst out,--

"He had been going on all the afternoon about Louis: he tried to put
me in a passion; he said all he could--every thing that was unkind and
provoking, and it was more than a fellow could stand. I bore it as long
as I could--"

"You are giving me a proof of your gentle endurance now, I suppose,"
said the doctor.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I can't help it,--I feel so angry when I
think of it, that I am afraid I should knock him down again if he were
to repeat it."

"For shame, sir!" said the doctor, sternly; "I should have thought that
you had already had a lesson you would not easily have forgotten. What
did he say of your brother that irritated you? I insist upon knowing."

"He said Louis was--that Louis did not speak the truth, sir. He said
that I believed it--that _I_ believed it"--and Reginald's passionate
sobs choked his utterance.

"Believed what?" asked the doctor.

"Something that happened yesterday," said Reginald; "he said that--he
was a hypocrite, and he went on taunting me about last summer."

"_About last summer!_" repeated the doctor.

"Yes, sir--about a mistake. Nobody makes allowances for Louis. I could
have borne it all if he had not said that _I_ knew Louis was a liar. I'd
knock any one down that I was able who should say so! Indeed," continued
Reginald, fiercely, "I begged him to leave off, and not provoke me, but
he would have it, and he knew what I was."

"Enough--enough--hush," said Dr. Wilkinson: "I beg I may hear no more
of knocking down. Don't add to your fault by working yourself into a
passion with me. Some provocation you certainly have had, but nothing
can justify such unrestrained fury. Consider what would have been your
condition at present, if your rage had been fatal to your cousin; it
would have availed you little to have pleaded the aggravation; your
whole life would have been embittered by the indulgence of your vengeful
feelings--one moment have destroyed the enjoyment of years. Thank God,
Mortimer, that you have been spared so terrible a punishment. But you
will always be in danger of this unless you learn to put a curb on your
hasty temper. The same feelings which urge you into a quarrel as a boy,
will hurry you into the duel as a man. It is a false