her first love, for so he chose to consider himself.  How utter, how thorough an escape this would be also from the least fear of further dependence on Giles!  And, as to his having made a fool of himself, and having been well laughed at for his pains, he was perfectly aware that as Melcombe of Melcombe, and with those personal advantages that he by no means undervalued, nobody would choose to remember that story against him, and he might marry almost wherever he pleased.

As he turned in his chair to think, he caught a glimpse of his old uncle’s house, just a corner through some trees, of his own bedroom window there, the place where that parcel was.

He knew that, think as long as he would, Giles would not interrupt.  “Yes, that parcel!  Well, I’m independent, anyhow,” he considered exultingly; and the further thought came into his mind, “I am well enough off.  What if I were to give this up and stay with John?  I know he is surprised and pleased to find me so useful.  I shall be more so; the work suits me, and brings out all I have in me; I like it.  Then I always liked being with Emily, and I should soon be master in that house.  Bother the estate!  I felt at first that I could not possibly fling it by, but really—­really I believe that in a few years, when John goes into Parliament, he’ll make me his partner.  It’s very perplexing; yes, I’ll think it well over, as Giles says.  I’ll do as I please; and I’ve a great mind to let that doomed old den alone after all.”

Though he expressed his mind in these undignified words, it was not without manly earnestness that he turned back to his brother, and said seriously, “Giles, I do assure you that I will decide nothing till I have given the whole thing my very best attention.  In the meantime, of course, whatever you hear, you will say nothing.  I shall certainly not go to Melcombe for a few days, I’ve got so attached to John, somehow, that I cannot think of leaving him in the lurch just now when he is out of spirits, and likes to have me with him.”

Thereupon the brothers parted, Valentine going downstairs, and Brandon sitting still in his room, a smile dawning on his face, and a laugh following.

“Leaving John in the lurch!” he repeated.  “What would my lord John think if he could hear that; but I have noticed for some time that they like one another.  What a notion Val has suddenly formed of his own importance!  There was really something like dignity in his leave-taking.  He does not intend that I should interfere, as is evident.  And I am not certain that if he asked for my advice I should know what to say.  I was very clear in my own mind that when he consulted me I should say, ‘Follow your father’s desire.’  I am still clear that I would do so myself in such a case; but I am not asked for my opinion.  I think he will renounce the inheritance, on reflection; if he does, I shall be truly glad that it was not at all by my advice, or to please me.  But if he