Michael opened wide his arms. She looked at him for a little while, and then, with a low sobbing, as of one who is weary and broken-hearted, moved towards him as he towards her, and found her rest. * * * * * They were still sitting together, when a ring sounded through the house. ‘That is just the time for the people from the south to come in,’ said Eleanor. And in another moment her maid had ushered Gilbert Langstroth into the room. Both of them noticed the expression upon Gilbert’s face as he came in. It was one of eager expectancy. Both saw the glance which fell from his eyes upon Eleanor. It chilled her; it was like the looks he had bestowed upon her when he had sent her the flowers, before he had preached to her a sermon on the necessity of evil to the development of good in the world. But from her, his eyes fell upon Michael, and his face changed. He was quite silent. She rose, looking at him tremulously. ‘You are very, very good. I did not quite know what to expect from your message,’ said she. ‘I knew you would not. I could not explain in a telegram. From yours, I gathered that some kind of storm had burst, and that you were in trouble.’ ‘I am in such trouble, that but for him,’ she said, slowly, and stopped a moment, laying her hand upon Michael’s arm, and looking very earnestly at Gilbert, who had gone very pale. Michael had not changed. But as Eleanor paused, Gilbert’s eager look all faded, and he shook slightly from head to foot. The two brothers were regarding one another; for the first time for six years they were actually confronted. They must, to carry this business through, have some kind of intercourse and communication. ‘But for him,’ she went on, ‘I could have done nothing. I—a woman, could have done nothing to any purpose.’ She looked from one to the other of them earnestly, imploringly, and still there was silence; till at last she sat down at the table, rested her arms upon it, and leaning forward said, first to one and then to the other— ‘Michael, you have spent your strength and your time this day in helping those who have never done you any good, in trying to save them from the effects of their sins, at least. And you, Gilbert, have come promptly here on no selfish errand. At my call you have come quickly to help me, who have no claim at all upon you. So good, and so considerate and helpful to others, will you go on hating each other; will you not be brothers again?’