The overweening vanity, the mock humility, the assurance of the man passed unnoticed by Eve. She breathed freely when she heard that he was the brother of Jasper. There could have been no harm in an interview with Jasper, and consequently very little in one with his brother. So she argued, and so she reconciled herself to the situation. Now she traced a resemblance between the brothers which had escaped her before; they had the same large dark expressive eyes, but Jasper’s face was not so regular, his features not so purely chiselled as those of Martin. He was broader built; Martin had the perfect modelling of a Greek statue. There was also a more manly, self-confident bearing in Martin than in the elder brother, who always appeared bowed as with some burden that oppressed his spirits, and took from him self-assertion and buoyancy, that even maimed his vigour of manhood. ‘I dare say you have had a garbled version of my story, continued Martin, seating himself; and Eve, without considering, seated herself also. Martin let himself down gracefully, and assumed a position where the evening light, still lingering in the sky, could irradiate his handsome face. ‘That is why I have sought this interview. I desired to put myself right with you. No doubt you have heard that I got into trouble.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, I did. I was unlucky. In fact, I could stay with my father no longer. I had already left him for a twelvemonth, but I came back, and, in Scriptural terms, such as he could understand, asked him to give me the portion of goods that fell to me. He refused, so I took it.’ ‘Took—took what?’ ‘My portion of goods, not in stock but in money. For my part,’ said Martin, folding his arms, ‘it has ever struck me that the Prodigal Son was far the nobler of the brothers. The eldest was a mean fellow, the second had his faults—I admit it—but he was a man of independence of action; he would not stand being bullyragged by his father, so he went away. I got into difficulties over that matter. My father would not overlook it, made a fuss, and so on. My doctrine is: Let bygones be bygones, and accept what comes and don’t kick. That my father could not see, and so I got locked up.’ ‘Locked up—where?’ ‘In a pill-box. I managed, however, to escape; I am at large, and at your feet—entreating you to pity me.’ He suited the action to the word. In a moment he was gracefully kneeling before her on one knee, with his hand on his heart.