Emmie breathed a heavy sigh. Bruce was in other points so noble, so good,--oh, why did he shut and bar so firmly against the entrance of duty and affection one haunted room of his heart! Emmie was distressed on account of Vibert; she knew that her volatile younger brother needed the support of the stronger sense, the firmer principle of the elder,--that the influence of Bruce might be of inestimable importance to Vibert. And all this influence was to be worse than thrown away, because the professed follower of Him who was meek and lowly would not bend his proud spirit to own that he had committed a fault! CHAPTER XII. THE STRANGER. Bruce had scarcely quitted the breakfast-room before it was entered by Vibert. "Quick, Emmie, a cup of your delicious hot coffee! I've been out these two hours, and have come in with a hunter's appetite!" exclaimed the youth, who was looking even handsomer than usual, with his clear complexion brightened by the invigorating effects of the fresh morning air. Vibert applied himself with energy to the work of cutting slices from the cold ham which had been placed on the side-board. Emmie poured out the warm beverage for her brother, who turned round to bid her add plenty of cream. "Cream is the one country luxury to balance against country cookery," he laughingly observed. "If that virago-looking Hannah continue to reign in the kitchen, I shall be driven to live upon cream, or be famished!" Vibert did not appear likely to be famished as he sat at the well-spread table, doing ample justice to his slices of ham. Emmie had finished her own breakfast, but remained to keep her brother company. "Since you were such an early riser to-day," she observed, "why were you absent from prayers?" "Because I can't stand hearing the prayers read by Bruce!" exclaimed Vibert with some indignation. "It's a mockery for him to call his own brother a selfish idiot, to treat him as if he were a slave or a dog, and then to kneel down and pray like a saint, asking for meekness and mercy, and all kinds of graces which he never had, and never wishes to have. If that be not downright hypocrisy, I know not what is deserving of the name." "Bruce is the very last person in the world who would play the hypocrite," cried Emmie. "As for the harsh name which he gave you, I believe that in his heart he is sorry for what he said in a moment of ill-humour." "Then why does he not own frankly that he is sorry?" cried Vibert. "If Bruce would but confess that he regrets his hasty words, I'd hold out my hand at once and say, 'Let by-gones be by-gones, old boy; I'm not the fellow to harbour a grudge.' But Bruce would not own a fault were it to save his life or mine. Pride--that pride that repels advice, resents reproof, and refuses to acknowledge an error (how well the captain described it!)--that is Bruce's pet sin, and he'll carry it with him to his grave." "God forbid!" faintly murmured Emmie.