I followed him slowly and silently out of the smithy, down the lane and across the road to his little, rose-covered cottage. We went round to the back of the house. Jim held up his hand for caution, as he peeped in at the kitchen window. He turned to me again, and beckoned, his big eyes blind with tears. "Look in there," he gulped. "That's my little sister, my little Peggy; she who never has had a sorrow since mother left us. She's been like that for four hours and she gets worse when I try to comfort her." I peered in. Peggy was sitting on the edge of a chair and bending across the table. Her arms were spread out in front of her and her face was buried in them. Her brown, curly hair rippled over her neck and shoulders like a mountain stream. Great sobs seemed to be shaking her supple body. I listened, and my ears caught the sound of a breaking heart. There was a fearful agony in her whole attitude. I turned away without speaking and followed Jim back to the smithy. When we got there, something pierced me like a knife, although all was not quite clear to my understanding. "Jim,--Jim," I cried, "surely you never fancied I--I was in any way to blame for this. Why! Jim,--I don't even know yet what it is all about." He laughed unpleasantly. "No, George, no!--Oh! I can't tell you. Here----" He went to his coat which hung from a hook in the wall. He pulled a letter from his inside pocket. "Read that," he said. I unfolded the paper, as he stood watching me keenly. The note was in handwriting with which I was well familiar. "My DEAR LITTLE PEGGY, I am very, very sorry,--but surely you know that what you ask is impossible. I shall try to find time to run out and see you at the usual place, Friday night at nine o'clock. Do not be afraid, little woman; everything will come out all right. You know I shall see that you are well looked after; that you do not want for anything. Burn this after you read it. Keep our secret, and bear up, like the good little girl you are. Yours affectionately, H----" As I read, my blood chilled in my veins, was,--there could be no mistaking it. "My God! Jim," I cried, "this is terrible. Surely,--surely----" "Yes! George," he said, in a tensely subdued voice, "your brother did that. Your brother,--with his glib tongue and his masterful way. Oh!--well I know the breed. They are to be found in high and low places; they are generally not much for a man to look at, but they are the kind no woman is safe beside; the kind that gets their soft side whether they be angels or she-devils. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Why couldn't he stay among his own kind? "And now, he has the gall to think that his accursed money can smooth it over. Damn and curse him for what he is." I had little or nothing to say. My heart was too full for words and a great anger was surging within me against my own flesh and blood.