that brother of
mine."

And Madeline told him, and then about their sister Helen. Question after
question he fired at her; and she told him of her mother; of Aunt
Grace, who had died a year ago; of his old friends, married, scattered,
vanished. But she did not tell him of his father, for he did not ask.

Quite suddenly the rapid-fire questioning ceased; he choked, was silent
a moment, and then burst into tears. It seemed to her that a long,
stored-up bitterness was flooding away. It hurt her to see him--hurt her
more to hear him. And in the succeeding few moments she grew closer to
him than she had ever been in the past. Had her father and mother done
right by him? Her pulse stirred with unwonted quickness. She did not
speak, but she kissed him, which, for her, was an indication of unusual
feeling. And when he recovered command over his emotions he made no
reference to his breakdown, nor did she. But that scene struck deep
into Madeline Hammond's heart. Through it she saw what he had lost and
gained.

"Alfred, why did you not answer my last letters?" asked Madeline. "I had
not heard from you for two years."

"So long? How time flies! Well, things went bad with me about the last
time I heard from you. I always intended to write some day, but I never
did."

"Things went wrong? Tell me."

"Majesty, you mustn't worry yourself with my troubles. I want you to
enjoy your stay and not be bothered with my difficulties."

"Please tell me. I suspected something had gone wrong. That is partly
why I decided to come out."

"All right; if you must know," he began; and it seemed to Madeline that
there was a gladness in his decision to unburden himself. "You remember
all about my little ranch, and that for a while I did well raising
stock? I wrote you all that. Majesty, a man makes enemies anywhere.
Perhaps an Eastern man in the West can make, if not so many, certainly
more bitter ones. At any rate, I made several. There was a cattleman,
Ward by name--he's gone now--and he and I had trouble over cattle. That
gave me a back-set. Pat Hawe, the sheriff here, has been instrumental in
hurting my business. He's not so much of a rancher, but he has influence
at Santa Fe and El Paso and Douglas. I made an enemy of him. I never did
anything to him. He hates Gene Stewart, and upon one occasion I spoiled
a little plot of his to get Gene in his clutches. The real reason for
his animosity toward me is that he loves Florence, and Florence i