Ralph felt the old contempt surge up and drown his fear. The familiarity of his brother’s presence weighed down the religious suggestion of his habit and office. This is what he had feared and almost expected;--that the cloister would make a fanatic of this fantastic brother of his. He glanced round at the door that he had left open, but the house was silent. Then he turned again. “Sit down, Chris,” he said, with a strong effort at self-command, and he pulled his sleeve away, went back and shut the door, and then came forward past where his brother was standing, to the chair that stood with its back to the window. “You must not be fond and wild,” he said decidedly. “Sit down, Chris.” The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced him again, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place, looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs. “What is this folly?” said Ralph again. Chris stared down at him a moment in silence. “Why, why--” he began, and ceased. Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to be paternal. “My dear lad,” he said, “you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. When did you come to London?” “Yesterday,” said Chris, still with that strange stare. “Why, then--” began Ralph. “Yes--you think I was too late, but I saw it,” said Chris; “I was there in the evening and saw it all again.” All his nervous tension seemed relaxed by the warm common-sense atmosphere of this trim little room, and his brother’s composure. His lips were beginning to tremble, and he half turned and gripped the mantel-shelf with his right hand. Ralph noticed with a kind of contemptuous pity how the heavy girded folds of the frock seemed to contain nothing, and that the wrist from which the sleeve had fallen back was slender as a reed. Ralph felt himself so infinitely his brother’s superior that he could afford to be generous and kindly. “Dear Chris,” he said, smiling, “you look starved and miserable. Shall I tell Morris to bring you something? I thought you monks fared better than that.” In a moment Chris was on his knees on the rushes; his hands gripped his brother’s arms, and his wild eyes were staring up with a fanatical fire of entreaty in them. His words broke out like a torrent. “Ralph,” he said, “dear brother! for Jesu’s sake, come away! I have heard everything. I know that these streets are red with blood, and that your hands have been dipped in it. You must not lose your soul. I know everything; you must come away. For Jesu’s sake!” Ralph tore himself free and stood up, pushing back his chair. “Godbody!” he said, “I have a fool for a brother. Stand up, sir. I will have no mumming in my house.” He rapped his foot fiercely on the floor, staring down at Chris who had thrown himself back on his heels. “Stand up, sir,” he said again. “Will you hear me, brother?” Ralph hesitated. “I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad.”