There followed a long silence.  John Grimbal saw how much easier it was to deceive another than himself, and, before the spectacle of his deluded brother, felt that he appreciated his own real motives and incentives at their true worth.  The more completely was Martin hoodwinked, the more apparent did the truth grow within John’s mind.  What was in reality responsible for his intended action never looked clearer than then, and as Martin spoke in all innocence of the courage that must be necessary to perform such a deed, Grimbal passed through the flash of a white light and caught a glimpse of his recent mental processes magnified by many degrees in the blinding ray.  The spectacle sickened him a little, weakened him, touched the depths of him, stirred his nature.  He answered presently in a voice harsh, abrupt, and deep.

“I’ve lied often enough in my life,” he said, “and may again, but I think never to you till to-day.  You’re such a clean-minded, big-hearted man that you don’t understand a mind of my build—­a mind that can’t forgive, that can’t forget, that’s fed full for years on the thought of revenging that frightful blow in the past.  What you feared and hinted just now was partly the truth, and I know it well enough.  But that is only to say my motives in this matter mixed.”

“None but a brave man would admit so mucn, but now you wrong yourself, as I wronged you.  We are alike.  I, too, have sometimes in dark moments blamed myself for evil thoughts and evil deeds beyond my real deserts.  So you.  I know nothing but your sense of duty would make you post that letter.”

“We’ve wrecked each other’s lives, he and I; only he’s a boy, and his life’s before him; I’m a man, and my life is lived, for I’m the sort that grows old early, and he’s helped Time more than anybody knows but myself.”

“Don’t say that.  Happiness never comes when you are hungering most for it; sorrow never when you believe yourself best tuned to bear it.  Once I thought as you do now.  I waited long for my good fortune, and said ‘good-by’ to all my hope of earthly delight.”

“You were easier to satisfy than I should have been.  Yet you were constant, too,—­constant as I was.  We’re built that way.  More’s the pity.”

“I have absolutely priceless blessings; my cup of happiness is full.  Sometimes I ask myself how it comes about that one so little deserving has received so much; sometimes I waken in the very extremity of fear, for joy like mine seems greater than any living thing has a right to.”

“I’m glad one of us is happy.”

“I shall live to see you equally blessed.”

“It is impossible.”

There was a pause, then a gong rumbled in the hall, and the brothers went to dinner.  Their conversation now ranged upon varied local topics, and it was not until the cloth had been removed according to old-fashioned custom, and fruit and wine set upon a shining table, that John returned to the crucial subject of the moment.