"He lost it," said Edgar, still as if half awake. "What can I do for you?" said Alwyn anxiously. "Are you better? but no--rest a little don't mind about it yet." Edgar still looked at him. Yes, it was Alwyn--perfectly unmistakable-- only as much altered as the eight years made inevitable--with the face he remembered so clearly; yes, and with the softened look he had seen in his dream. He put out his hand, and Alwyn took it timidly, and still with the same shocked, startled look. "Of course," he said gently, "I did not know you had been ill, or I would not have written to you, nor risked startling you." "I'm not ill," said Edgar, still rather confusedly. "It's only my back, you know--quite an old thing." "But when--how?" "I fell downstairs," said Edgar; "never mind, tell me--" "Not _then_? Not _that flight_? You did fall, I remember. What? then I was the cause." Alwyn started up and turned his back on his brother, evidently shocked and overpowered almost beyond control. The meeting was utterly unlike what either of them had fancied to himself as probable. "Alwyn," said Edgar, "there's nothing to mind--I'm quite used to it. It was a mere chance, and it's not so very bad. I _can_ walk--a little, and I can get out here and have very jolly times, you see." But the boyish language, and the still boyish voice, so well remembered, completely overcame Alwyn, who had not expected to be agitated, only perhaps embarrassed, at seeing his brother. He struggled hard with himself before he could turn round, and, coming back and leaning against the tree beside Edgar, said: "What would you like me best to do?" "Why!" said Edgar, with recovered energy, "tell me something. I am dazed with surprise. Tell me everything." "I went to New York, as I suppose you know," said Alwyn; "Whittaker with me. I wasn't altogether a fool, and I accepted the introductions the New York bankers gave me, and with the money my father had lodged there for me I bought some land in Massachusetts. Well, after a good deal of uncertainty it not only proved a success in the farming way, but we found coal on it, which proved well worth working, and, in short, we have done well. Whittaker is what I suppose you would call my agent and manager, and a good friend into the bargain. Well, two years ago he married--well. He had quite made up his mind to give up the old country. And I--I only wished to be independent. We made no effort, you understand, at concealment--used our own names always. Anyone could have found us out. Well, I must tell you very briefly.