"I know that you do not." Ronder's face was really troubled; there was an expression in his eyes that his aunt had never seen. Brandon moved on, looking neither to right nor left. Ronder continued: "I know how you feel about me. But to-day--somehow--this service--I feel that I can't allow our quarrel to continue without speaking. It isn't easy for me----" He broke off. Brandon's voice shook. "I have nothing to say to you. I do not wish to say anything to you. You have been my enemy since you first came to this town. My work--my family----" "I am not your enemy. Indeed, indeed I am not. I won't deny that when I came here I found that you, who were the most important man in the place, thought differently from myself on every important question. You, yourself, who are an honest man, would not have had me back out from what I believed to be my duty. I could do no other. But this personal quarrel between us was most truly not of my own seeking. I have liked and admired you from the beginning. Such a matter as the Pybus living has forced us into opposition, but I am convinced that there are many views that we have in common, that we could be friends working together--" Brandon stopped. "Did my son, or did he not, come to see you before he went up to London?" Ronder hesitated. "Yes," he said, "he did. But--" "Did he, or did he not, ask your advice?" "Yes, he did. But--" "Did you advise him to take the course which he afterwards followed?" "No, on my honour, Archdeacon, I did not. I did not know what his personal trouble was. I did not ask him and he did not tell me. We talked of generalities--" "Had you heard, before he came to you, gossip about my son?" "I had heard some silly talk--" "Very well, then." "But you _shall_ listen to me, Archdeacon. I scarcely knew your son. I had met him only once before, at some one's house, and talked to him then only for five minutes. He himself asked to come and see me. I could not refuse him when he asked me. I did not, of course, wish to refuse him. I liked the look of him, and simply for his own sake wished to know him better. When he came he was not with me for very long and our talk was entirely about religion, belief, faith in God, the meaning of life, nothing more particular than such things." "Did he say, when he left you, that what you had told him had helped him to make up his mind?" "Yes." "Were you, when he talked to you, quite unconscious that he was my son, and that any action that he took would at once affect my life, my happiness?" "Of course I was aware that he was your son. But----" "There is another question that I wish to ask you, Canon Ronder. Did some one come to you not long ago with a letter that purported to be written by my wife?" Again Ronder hesitated. "Yes," he said. "Did she show you that letter?" "She did." "Did she ask your advice as to what she should do with it?" "She did--I told her----" "Did you tell her to come with it to me?"