between them upon the subject which was uppermost in the minds of both.
Hugh was the first to speak. He laid the gun he was cleaning across his knees, and looked across at his brother with glowing eyes.
"Ernest," he said quietly, "we have lived together for many years without quarrelling or dissension. Now it would seem things are changed; for days we have met with anger in our hearts because of—a woman. It is not a thing I wish to speak of—but I care for her very much. You are using your strong will to draw her from me. But for you she would love me. Will you cease persecuting her?"
Ernest fixed his cold gaze upon his brother's face.
"I do not persecute her," he said slowly; "she cares for me. I read it in her heart."
Hugh drew the gun up in his hands.
"You have read nothing I have not read. She is a child. She cannot decide, but she shall. She is mine. I carried her in my arms away from the danger of the river. I saved her; she is mine."
"I saw her first," Ernest said softly; "I called to you. Only for me she would have
