s not my fault. Ofttimes when I was displeased I said
things which, if said to many brothers, would have provoked a quarrel;
but Wilfred apparently took no heed of my angry words; save to give me
a peculiar look, which sometimes almost made me shudder. But he never
lost his temper in return, or indulged in violent speech. This was
peculiarly trying to me, for I was passionate, and longed to give vent
to my feelings; but he would shrug his shoulders at my rage and, with a
strange smile, walk away.

Consequently, although my brother never spoke angrily to me, there were
no confidences between us. We never told each other our thoughts, as
most brothers do, and we were never companions in any escapades or
adventures. Thus I did not speak to him about the curse of the
Trewinions, nor of what my father had communicated to me about the
history of our house. Yet Wilfred seemed to know far more than I did
about everything appertaining to our people.

At first I wondered about this, but after a while I began to realise
how much my mother and Wilfred were to each other, and how often they
walked together. Besides, I often saw him in the library conning over
books that to me contained no interest whatever.

About three years after the interview with my father, that is to say,
when I was eighteen years of age and Wilfred sixteen, I had gone out on
the headland, and, in a dreamy way, was watching the sea birds as they
soared around and around, ever and anon making a dive into the water.
Up to this time I had remained a pupil of the Rev. Thomas Polperrow,
but had been told by my father that my school days were over. He
would, he said, have sent me either to Cambridge or Oxford but for the
fact that the Trewinion heir was forbidden by the laws of the family to
leave the house for six months together. In my case it did not matter
so much, as Mr. Polperrow had given me all the advantages of his
University education; and as I was not to be a man of letters like my
brother Wilfred, I had all the learning that was necessary for filling
the position of Squire of Trewinion Manor.

I was thinking of these things when my brother Wilfred came to me on to
the headland.

"It's fine to be you, Roger," he said.

"Why, Wilfred?"

"Because your cares are over. Your life will be one long holiday, you
will have everything you need, and will be the most important man in
the country side."

"Yes," I said, "and you, Wilfred, will be a g