"You have missed your vocation, Mr. Ritson. Believe me, the Gospel has lost a fervent advocate. Perhaps you would like to pray for this good brother; perhaps you would consider it safe to drop on your knee and say, 'My good brother that should be, who has ever loved me, whom I have ever loved, take here my fortune, and leave me until death a penniless dependent on the lands that are mine by right of birth.'" Hugh Ritson's breath came in gusts through his quivering, unseen lips. "Bonnithorne, it cannot be--it is mere coincidence, seductive, damning coincidence. My mother knows all. If it were true that Paul was the son of Lowther, she would know that Paul and Greta must be half-brother and half-sister. She would stop their unnatural union." "And do you think I have waited until now to sound that shoal water with a cautious plummet? Your mother is as ignorant of the propinquity as Greta herself. Lowther was dead before your family settled in Newlands. The families never once came together while the widow lived. And now not a relative survives who can tell the story." "Parson Christian?" said Hugh Ritson. "A great child just out of swaddling-clothes!" "Then the secret rests with you and me, Bonnithorne?" "Who else? The marriage must not come off. Greta is Paul's half-sister, but she is no relative of yours--" "You are right, Bonnithorne," Hugh Ritson broke in; "the marriage is against nature." "And the first step toward stopping it is to stop the will." "Then why are you here?" "To make sure that there is no will already. You have satisfied me, and now I go." There was a pause. "Who shall say that I am acting a base part?" said Hugh, in an eager tone. "Who indeed?" "Nature itself is on my side." The man was conquered. He was in the grip of his temptation. "I am off, Mr. Ritson. Get back into the house. It is not safe for you to be out of sight and sound." Mr. Bonnithorne was moving off in the darkness, the lamp before his breast; its light fell that instant on Hugh Ritson's haggard face. "Wait; put out your lamp." "It's done." All was now dark. "Good-night." "Good-night." With slow whispers the two men parted. The springy step of Josiah Bonnithorne was soon lost in the road below. Hugh Ritson stood for awhile where the lawyer left him, and then turned back into the house. He found the cabinet open. In the turmoil of emotion he had forgotten to close it. He returned to it, and shuffled with the papers to put them back in their place. At that moment the door opened, and a heavy footstep fell on the floor. Hugh glanced up startled. It was Paul. His face was plowed deep with lines of pain. But the cloud of sorrow that it wore was not so black as the cloud of anger when he saw what his brother was doing and guessed his purpose. "What are you about?" Paul asked, mastering his wrath. There was no response. "Shut up that cabinet!" Hugh turned about with a flushed face. "I shall do as I please!"