“Nay, nay, Struan, be not thus hurt by imaginary lesions. The great range of your powers is well known to me, as it is to every one. Particularly to that boy whom you shot in the hedge last season.” “No more of that, an you love me. I believe the little rascal peppered himself to get a guinea out of me. But as to Hilary, will you allow me to say a few words without any offence? I am his own mother’s brother, as you seem very often to forget, and I cannot bear to see a fine young fellow condemned and turned out of house and home for what any young fellow is sure to do. Boys are sure to go falling in love until their whiskers are fully grown. And the very way to turn fools into heroes (in their own opinion) is to be violent with them.” “Perhaps those truths are not new to me. But I was not violent--I never am.” “At any rate you were harsh and stern. And who are you to find fault with him? I care not if I offend you, Roland, until your better sense returns. But did you marry exactly in your own rank of life, yourself?” “I married a lady, Struan Hales--your sister--unless I am misinformed.” “To be sure, to be sure! I know well enough what you mean by that; though you have the most infernal way of keeping your temper, and hinting things. What you mean is that I am making little of my own sister’s memory, by saying that she was not your equal.” “I meant nothing of the sort. How very hot your temper is! I showed my respect for your family, Struan, and simply implied that it was not graceful, at any rate, on your part----” “Graceful, be hanged! Sir Roland, I cannot express myself as you can--and perhaps I ought to thank God for that--but none the less for all that, I know when I am in the right. I feel when I am in the right, sir, and I snap my fingers at every one.” “That is right. You have an unequalled power of explosion in your thumb-joint--I heard it through three oaken doors the last time you were at all in a passion; and now it will go through a wall at least. Nature has granted you this power to exhibit your contempt of wrong.” “Roland, I have no power at all. I do not pretend to be clever at words; and I know that you laugh at my preaching. I am but a peg in a hole, I know, compared with all your learning; though my churchwarden, Gates, won’t hear of it. What did he say last Sunday?” “Something very good, of course. Help yourself, Struan, and out with it.” “Well, it was nothing very wonderful. And as he holds under you, Sir Roland----” “I will not turn him out, for even the most brilliant flash of his bramble-hook.” “You never turn anybody out. I wish to goodness you would sometimes. You don’t care about your rents. But I do care about my tithes.” “This is deeply disappointing, after the wit you were laden with. What was the epigram of Churchwarden Gates?” “Never you mind. That will keep--like some of your own mysteries. You want to know everything and tell nothing, as the old fox did in the fable.”