"My dear sister," began Mr. Carlaw, "when last I saw you, on a memorable and a painful occasion, I went away with the horrible fear tugging at my heart that it would have been wiser had I said nothing; that the probability was that you would behave--quite naturally, I admit--somewhat harshly to a foolish and headstrong youth. That fear has haunted me ever since, and haunts me still." "Well, I'm afraid it will have to continue haunting you, brother Bob," replied Miss Carlaw dryly. "If you want to know full particulars of the matter I can tell you in a dozen words. I asked my nephew whether the statement was true or false; he admitted that it was true. He left my house that night." Mr. Robert Carlaw, remembering his sister's affliction, felt it safe to indulge in a smile of satisfaction; but his tones when he spoke were tinged with sadness. "My dear Charlotte," he said, "this is quite what I feared. Will you not permit me to plead for the boy, to suggest----" "Not a word," broke in Miss Carlaw fiercely. "I don't know why you come here, unless you want to triumph over a lonely old woman; but I want to hear nothing more about the matter. The boy is done with, and I won't listen to the pleading of an archangel about him. Have you anything more to say?" Mr. Carlaw hesitated for a few moments and then began his petition lamely. "My dear sister, I will not, of course, say anything further about the unhappy matter if you do not desire to have it spoken about. Perhaps I may say that, more than anything else, my heart has been touched for you; my sympathy has gone out to you in this hour of your loneliness more than you would think possible." "I was lonely for a good many years, brother Bob, and it didn't seem to affect you much. Come, deal squarely with me; what is it you want to say?" "My dear Charlotte, you are ever impatient; but that is characteristic of you, and I think I love you for it--I'm quite sure I do. I was going to suggest, if I might be permitted to do so, that having been used for so long to young society you will naturally feel the desire for that sort of society very strongly. In a word, my dear sister, you want to be taken out of yourself, as it were." "Well, go on," said Miss Carlaw, who was listening intently. Thus encouraged, her brother proceeded more glibly: "Now, it has seemed to me that if you could receive visits from--may I say it?--from those who are interested in you, those whose society is cheerful, whose lives are fresh and sweet and unspotted from the world, it would have a beneficial effect upon you. Now, for example, my son Brian----"