The brothers remained silent after Leoline had left them. Otho carelessly braced on his sword, that he had laid aside on the grass; but Warbeck gathered up the flowers that had been touched by the soft hand of Leoline, and placed them in his bosom. The action disturbed Otho; he bit his lip, and changed colour; at length he said, with a forced laugh: "It must be confessed, brother, that you carry your affection for our fair cousin to a degree that even relationship seems scarcely to warrant." "It is true," said Warbeck, calmly: "I love her with a love surpassing that of blood." "How!" said Otho, fiercely: "do you dare to think of Leoline as a bride?" "Dare!" repeated Warbeck, turning yet paler than his wonted hue. "Yes, I have said the word! Know, Warbeck, that I, too, love Leoline; I, too, claim her as my bride; and never, while I can wield a sword--never, while I wear the spurs of knighthood, will I render my claim to a living rival. Even," he added (sinking his voice), "though that rival be my brother!" Warbeck answered not; his very soul seemed stunned; he gazed long and wistfully on his brother, and then, turning his face away, ascended the rock without uttering a single word. This silence startled Otho. Accustomed to vent every emotion of his own, he could not comprehend the forbearance of his brother; he knew his high and brave nature too well to imagine that it arose from fear. Might it not be contempt, or might he not, at this moment, intend to seek their father; and, the first to proclaim his love for the orphan, advance, also, the privilege of the elder born? As these suspicions flashed across him, the haughty Otho strode to his brother's side, and laying his hand on his arm, said: "Whither goes thou? and dost thou consent to surrender Leoline?" "Does she love thee, Otho?" answered Warbeck, breaking silence at last; and his voice spoke so deep an anguish, that it arrested the passions of Otho even at their height. "It is thou who art now silent," continued Warbeck; "speak, doth she love thee, and has her lip confessed it?" "I have believed that she loved me," faltered Otho; "but she is of maiden bearing, and her lip, at least, has never told it." "Enough," said Warbeck; "release your hold." "Stay," said Otho, his suspicions returning; "stay--yet one word; dost thou seek my father? He ever honoured thee more than me: wilt thou own to him thy love, and insist on thy right of birth? By my soul and my hope of heaven, do it, and one of us two must fall!" "Poor boy!" answered Warbeck, bitterly; "how little thou canst read the heart of one who loves truly! Thinkest thou I would wed her if she loved thee? Thinkest thou I could, even to be blessed myself, give her one moment's pain? Out on the thought--away!" "Then wilt not thou seek our father?" said Otho, abashed.