h was in the park, not very far from the house, but nearer to
the gate leading to Brotherton. On that Sunday morning the Marchioness
and her youngest daughter went there in the carriage, and in doing so,
had to pass the front doors. The previous Sunday had been cold, and
this was the first time that the Marchioness had seen Manor Cross since
her son had been there. "Oh, dear! if I could only go in and see the
dear child," she said.

"You know you can't, mamma," said Amelia.

"It is all Sarah's fault, because she would quarrel with him."

After Church the ladies returned in the carriage, and Lord George went
to the house according to his appointment. He was shown into a small
parlour, and in about half an hour's time luncheon was brought to him.
He then asked whether his brother was coming. The servant went away,
promising to enquire, but did not return. He was cross and would eat no
lunch,--but after awhile rang the bell, loudly, and again asked the
same question. The servant again went away and did not return. He had
just made up his mind to leave the house and never to return to it,
when the Courier, of whom he had heard, came to usher him into his
brother's room. "You seem to be in a deuce of a hurry, George," said
the Marquis, without getting out of his chair. "You forget that people
don't get up at the same hour all the world over."

"It's half-past two now."

"Very likely; but I don't know that there is any law to make a man
dress himself before that hour."

"The servant might have given me a message."

"Don't make a row now you are here, old fellow. When I found you were
in the house I got down as fast as I could. I suppose your time isn't
so very precious."

Lord George had come there determined not to quarrel if he could help
it. He had very nearly quarrelled already. Every word that his brother
said was in truth an insult,--being, as they were, the first words
spoken after so long an interval. They were intended to be insolent,
probably intended to drive him away. But if anything was to be gained
by the interview he must not allow himself to be driven away. He had a
duty to perform,--a great duty. He was the last man in England to
suspect a fictitious heir,--would at any rate be the last to hint at
such an iniquity without the strongest ground. Who is to be true to a
brother if not a brother? Who is to support the honour of a great
family if not its own scions? Who is to abstain from wasting the wealt