Edward held up his hand. "My dear fellow, I hope you do not for one moment imagine that I did not feel keenly for Brancker. My heart bled for him many and many a time. I seemed to myself to have added ten years to my age during those weeks that he lay in prison. I would willingly have given half of all I had in the world if by so doing I could have reversed the verdict of the Coroner's jury. But all that belongs to the past. What I want you to do now is to realize for yourself what would have been the effect on the fortunes of those he left behind him had I made known the contents of my father's letter. In the first place, your mother and sister would have been reduced to pauperism, or next door to it." "How could that have come about?" demanded Clem, with a startled look. "Because, had it become known that my father committed suicide deliberately and intentionally, and without any mitigating plea of mental derangement, his life policy of twelve thousand pounds would have been forfeited; and that, as you are aware, forms nearly the sole resource of your mother and sister." "I had not thought of that," responded Clem. Neither had he. He had been so shocked at finding that the manner of his father's death had been known to Edward from the first, and that he had chosen to hush it up, that for the time being his mind had failed to grasp any of the consequences, near or remote, on which his brother had based his action in the affair. "That would have been bad enough in all conscience," resumed Edward, "but worse, much worse, would have followed. Had my father's case been one of simple suicide, that might have been got over, painful though it would have been; but his letter has told you what there was in the background. One would have been only a misfortune, such as might happen in any family, but the other meant disgrace and social ruin to everyone connected with him. Could either you or I have ever held up our heads again in Ashdown? I am quite sure that I could not. I should have had to give up my position and all my prospects in life, and go away to some place where the name of Hazeldine had no taint of disgrace attached to it. Then, again, think what it would have meant to my mother and Fanny. They, too, would have had to seek some distant home, with poverty for their abiding companion. It would have gone far towards breaking my mother's heart, if it did not altogether do so, and who would knowingly marry the daughter of a man who----? But, surely, not another word is needed." "It is a terrible picture that you have drawn," said Clement, with an involuntary catching of his breath. In one brief half-hour he felt as if he had taken leave of his youth forever. "Is it in any one respect an overcharged picture? You cannot conscientiously say that it is." CHAPTER XXVII. WRONG VERSUS RIGHT.