said, as he returned to his place, "it's all very well for
you and old Jennings to put your heads together every night and drink
confusion to all women; but you know very well that if there are to be
any more Strangeweys at Peak Hall, either you or I must marry!"

Stephen moved uneasily in his chair.

"If you're going to marry that woman--" he began.

"I am going to marry Louise Maurel," John interrupted firmly. "Stephen,
listen to me for a moment before you say another word, please. It is all
settled. She has promised to be my wife. I don't forget what we've been
to each other. I don't forget the old name and the old tradition; but I
have been fortunate enough to meet a woman whom I love, and I am going
to marry her. Don't speak hurriedly, Stephen! Think whatever you will,
but keep it to yourself. Some day I shall expect you to give me your
hand and tell me you are glad."

Stephen knocked the ashes deliberately from his pipe.

"I will tell you this much now," he said. "I had rather that we
Strangeweys died out, that the roof dropped off Peak Hall and the walls
stood naked to the sky, than that this woman should be your wife and the
mother of your children!"

"Let it go at that, then, Stephen," John replied. "It is enough for me
to say that I will not take it ill from you, because you do not know
her."

"But I do know her," Stephen answered. "Perhaps she didn't tell you that
I paid her a visit?"

"You paid her a visit?"

"Aye, that I did! She wouldn't tell you. There'll be many a thing in
life she won't tell you. I went to let her hear from my lips what I
thought of her as a wife for you. I told her what I thought of a woman
who plays the part of a wanton--"

"Stephen!" John thundered.

"The part of an adulterous wife upon the stage for every man and woman
who pay their silver to go and gape at! It seems I did no good--no good,
that is, if she has promised to marry you."

John drew a breath. His task was harder, even, than he had imagined. All
the time he tried to keep one thought fixed in his mind. Stephen was his
elder brother. It was Stephen who had been his guardian and his guide
through all his youth. He thought of Stephen's fifty odd years of simple
and strenuous living, of his charity, of his strength--that very
strength which had kept him in the narrow way, which had kept him from
looking to the right or to the left in his walk through life.

"Stephen," John said, "you are growing harder with the