"Pooh!" said he. "Tut--tut; stuff and nonsense. Talbot, the fact is, I've been a blockhead. I've got you into a fix, and you're the sufferer. Now I'm quite ready to die, as I deserve, for getting you into danger; but the mischief of it is, what's going to become of you? I swear to you, Talbot, this is now my only fear." "Brooke," said Talbot, in mournful tones, "every word of yours is a reproach to me. You force me to remember how base I have been in allowing you to sacrifice yourself for me. Oh, if I could only recall the past few hours! if we were only back again in the tower, I would never let you go with me; I would make my journey alone, and--" "I think," interrupted Brooke, "that I shall have to shut up. Come, now, let's make a bargain. I'll say no more about it, if you don't. Is it a bargain?" "I suppose so." There was silence now for a short time, after which Brooke said: "Talbot, lad, you don't object, do you, to my holding your hand?" "Object, Brooke? Certainly not." "It seems to have the effect," said Brooke, "of soothing me, and of making my self-reproach less keen." "When you hold my hand, Brooke," said Talbot, in a low voice, whose tremor showed unusual feeling, "I feel stronger, and all my weakness leaves me. And I like best of all what you said to me about my not being a girl. I love to have you call me 'Talbot,' for it sounds as though you have confidence in poer me; but, best of all, I love to hear you say 'Talbot, lad;' for it seems as though you look on me as your equal. Your tone is that of a brave man addressing his comrade, and the very sound of your voice seems to drive all my fear away." "Good boy!" said Brooke, in a harsh, husky voice. After which, he cleared his throat violently, but said nothing further for a while. "You see, Talbot, lad," said he, at last, "it is this: I have a feeling that I can't get rid of, and I've had it ever since we left the tower. The feeling is this--that you are my younger brother. You don't understand. I'll tell you about him." "Your younger brother!" said Talbot, in a low voice, soft and unutterably sweet. Then a little sigh followed, and she added: "And that I will try to be to you, Brooke, until this danger is over. But you must bear with me, and not be angry if I turn out sometimes to be a coward." "A coward?" said Brooke. "Come, I like that. Why, Talbot, boy though you are, there is enough stuff in you to fit out half a dozen men. You're a Talbot, to begin with; and, in addition to that, you are that sort of a person that you would let yourself be torn in pieces for the sake of a comrade." "I'm glad you think that of me," said Talbot, gently.