ed, and then stopped. "We musn't talk here,"
she continued. "Will'ee come to th'oull Debrah's house to-night,
Maaster Roger, and I'll tell ee something for yer good? No, not
to-night; but to-morrow night at nine o'clock."

I promised her I would do so, and Deborah hobbled away. As soon as she
had gone I went straight home with a heavy heart. Although I was a
full-grown man I dreaded my mother's anger, and Deborah's words rang in
my ears. Besides, I feared that Wilfred might be prejudiced against me
and not see things in their true light.

No sooner had I entered the dining-hall than I saw my mother bathing
Wilfred's head, my father looking on gravely meanwhile. Even my
father's presence could not quell my mother's anger against me.

"You the elder brother!" she cried. "You, the heir to the Trewinions!
The name will be disgraced if you are master of the Manor. You, a
great strong monster, to punish a younger brother who is not full
grown!"

I tried to explain, but she would not allow me to do so, while Wilfred
looked at me with that strange expression which always appeared on his
face when he was not well pleased.

Shortly after, I went away with my father to whom I told my story.

"Roger," he said, when I had finished, "you must be very careful, my
lad. You will be either a blessing or a curse to your family. Future
generations will either bless your memory or they will remember your
name with loathing."

"Why," I said, "does so much depend on me?"

"Everything depends on you, Roger. You are the first-born son, and if
you turn out bad, everything will turn out bad. So, my boy, whatever
you are, or whatever you do, be truthful, be pure, and be forgiving."

"God helping me, I will, father," I replied.

Some time after we all gathered together in the library, where we
usually sat in the evening. My father made it a rule to send the
servants to bed early when we had no company, so although it was only
eight o'clock and scarcely dark he had taken down the old family Bible
in order that we might hear the Scriptures and join in prayer before
retiring. My mother sat by Wilfred, her hand locked in his, while I
sat near to my father, as was the usual custom, and we waited for the
servants to come to prayers.

Instead of all coming together, only one came, and announced that
Deborah Teague had something to tell us.

Father, in spite of all the complaints against Deborah, regarded her
with much favour,