We passed out of Drummond Street into a wide open common.  Rosy clouds floated across the zenith, and a warm, balmy wind was blowing.  I thought of Veronica, calm and happy, as the spring always made her, and the thought was a finishing blow to the variety of moods I had passed through.  The helm of my will was broken.

“There is a good view from Moss Hill yonder,” he said.  “Shall we go up?”

I bowed, declining his arm, and trudged beside him.  From its summit Belem was only half in sight.  Its old, crooked streets sloped and disappeared from view; Wolf’s Point was at the right of us, and its thread of sea.  I began talking of our walk, and was giving an extended description of it, when he abruptly asked why I came to Belem.

“I know,” he said, “that you would not have come, had there been any sentiment between you and Ben.”

“Thanks for your implication.  But I must have made the visit, you know, or how could I learn that I should not have made it?”

“You regret coming?”

“Veronica will give me no thanks.”

“Who is she?”

“My sister, whom Ben loves.”

“Ben love a sister of yours?  My God—­how? when first? where?  And how came you to meet him?”

“That chapter of accidents need not be recounted.  Can you help him?”

“What can I do?” he said roughly.  “There is little love between us.  You know what a devil’s household ours is; but he is one of us—­he is afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of mother—­of our antecedents—­of himself.”

“I could not expect you to speak well of him.”

“Of course not.  Your sister has no fortune?”

“She has not.  Men whose merchandise is ships are apt to die bankrupt.”

“Your father is a merchant?”

“Even at that, the greatest of the name.

“We are all tied up, you know.  Ben’s allowance is smaller than mine.  He is easy about money; therefore he is pa’s favorite.”

“Why do you not help yourselves?”

“Do you think so?  You have not known us long.  Have you influenced Ben to help himself?”

I marched down the hill without reply.  Repassing Mrs. Hepburn’s, he said, “My grandfather was an earl’s son.”

“Mrs. Hepburn likes you for that.  My grandfather was a tailor; I should have told her so, when she gave me the aqua marina jewels.”

“Had you the courage?”

“I forgot both the fact and the courage.”

I hurried along, for it grew dark, and presently saw Ben on the steps of the house.

“Have you been walking?” he asked.

“It looks so.  Yes, with me,” answered Desmond.  “Wont you give me thanks for attention to your friend?”

“It must have been a whim of Cassandra’s.”

“Break her of whims, if you can—­”

“I will.”

We went into the parlor together.

“Where do you think I have been?” Ben asked.