“Rotifer, as before.”

“Chacun a son gout,” said Bobus, shrugging his shoulders.

“I should have thought you would respect curing more than killing.”

“If there were not a whole bag of stones about your neck.”

“Magnets,” said Jock.

“That’s just it.  All the heavier.”

The brothers went upstairs together, and Jock was kept waiting a little while in the dressing-room, till his mother came out, shutting the door on Barbara.

“The poor Infanta!” she said.  “She is breaking her foolish little heart over something she said to you.  ’As bad as the woman in the “Black Brunswicker,"’ she says, only she didn’t mean it.  Was it so, Jock?”

“I had pretty well made up my mind before.  Mother, are you vexed that I did not tell you?”

“You spared me much.  Your uncle would never have consented.  But oh, Jock!  I’m not a Spartan mother.  My heart will bound.”

“My colonel said it was right,” said Jock; “so did Cameron, and even Sir James, though he did not like it.”

“With such an array of old soldiers on our side we may let the young ladies rage,” said his mother, but she checked her mirth on seeing how far from a joke their indignation was to her son.

He turned and looked into the fire as he said—-

“When did Sydney write that letter, mother?”

“Before meeting you at the wedding.  She has not written since.”

“I thought not,” muttered Jock, his brow against the mantel-piece.

“No, but Mrs. Evelyn has written such a nice letter, just like herself, though I did not understand it then.  I think she was doubtful how much I knew, for she only said how thankworthy it must be to have such a self-sacrificing spirit among my sons, moral courage, in fact, of the highest kind, and how those who were lavish of strong words in their first disappointment would be wiser by-and-by.  I was puzzled then.  But oh, my dear, this must have been very grievous to you!”

“I couldn’t go back, but I did not know how it would be,” said Jock, in a choked voice, collapsing at last, and hiding his face on his mother’s lap.

“My Jock, I am so sorry!  I wish it were not too late.  I could not have let you give up so much,” and she fondled his head.  “I did not think I had been so weak as to let you see.”

“No, mother.  It was not that you were so weak, but that you were so brave.  Besides, I ought to take the brunt of it.  I ruined you all by being the prime mover with that assification, and I was the cause of Armie’s illness too.  I ought to take my share.  If ever I can be any good to any one again,” he added, in a dejected tone.

“Good!-—unspeakably good!  This is my first bright spot of light through the wood.  If it were but bright to you!  I am afraid they have been very unkind.”

“Not unkind. She couldn’t be that, but I’ve shocked and disappointed her,” and his head dropped again.