“Shut your mouth, or I’ll smash your face in!” he cried.

His sudden fury calmed his brother.

“You refuse to answer, and that can only mean one thing, Raymond.  Then I’ve done with you.  You’ve dragged us all through the mud—­made us a shame and a scandal—­proud people.  You can go—­the further off, the better.  I dismiss you and I never want to see your face again.”

“Don’t worry—­you never shall.  God’s my judge, I’d sooner sweep a crossing than come to you for anything.  I know you well enough.  You always meant to do this.  You saved your face when my father robbed me from the grave and left me a pauper—­you saved your face by putting me into the works; but you never meant me to stop there.  You only waited your chance to sack me and keep the lot for yourself.  And you’ve jumped at this and were glad to hear of this—­damned glad, I’ll bet!”

Daniel did not answer, but turned his back on his brother, and a minute or two later was driving away.  When he had gone, the panting Raymond went to his room and flung himself on his bed.  Under his cooling anger again obtruded the old satisfaction—­amorphous, vile, not to be named—­that he had felt before.  This brought ultimate freedom a step nearer.  If ostracism and punishment were to be his portion, then let him earn them.  If the world—­his world—­was to turn against him, let the reversal be for something.  Poverty would be a fair price for liberty, and those who now seemed so ready to hound him out of his present life and crush his future prospects, should live to see their error.  For a time he felt savagely glad that this had happened.  He regretted his letter to his aunt; he thought of packing his portmanteau on the instant and vanishing for ever; yet time and reflection abated his dreams.  He began to grow a little alarmed.  He even regretted his harsh words to his brother before the twilight fell.

Then his mind was occupied with Sabina; but Sabina had wounded him to the quick, for it was clear she and her mother had shamelessly published the truth.  Sabina, then, had courted ruin.  She deserved it.  He soon argued that the disaster of the day was Sabina’s work, and he dismissed her with an oath from his thoughts.  Then he turned to Miss Ironsyde and found keen curiosity waken to know what she was thinking and feeling about him.  Did she know that Daniel had dismissed him?  Could she have listened to so grave a determination on Daniel’s part and taken no step to prevent it?

He found himself deeply concerned at being flung out of his brother’s business.  The more he weighed all that this must mean and its effect upon his future, the more overwhelmed he began to be.  He had worked very hard of late and put all his energy and wits into spinning.  He was beginning to understand its infinite possibilities and to see how, Daniel’s trust once won, he might have advanced their common welfare.

From this point he ceased to regret his letter to Miss Ironsyde, but was glad that he had written it.  He now only felt concerned that the communication was not penned with some trace of apology for his past indifference to her wishes.  He began to see that his sole hope now lay with his aunt, and the supreme point of interest centred in her attitude to the situation.