"Anyway, he made me see it at the time; pointed out the full significance of things--a broken branch, a scratch on a rock. A rather striking man in several ways. But you shall see him; he's coming over to stay with me by and by." He paused a moment. "I understand that Clarence has been having some trouble." "It hardly amounts to that. But things are not the same as they were"--in spite of her courage she faltered--"when George held control. The tenants don't take to Clarence; I think he was not well advised in increasing rents here and there. Indeed, that was a little puzzling, because he was once so liberal." "In small matters; it's his own money now." Nasmyth could not repress this show of bitterness. "Whose money was it in his extravagant days?" "That's a question I've thought over and failed to find an answer to. I've no doubt most of what he gets is now being spent in town, though in my opinion as much as possible ought to go back to the locality in which it was produced. Why don't you impress that on him?" Millicent, as he knew, could judiciously offer sound advice where it was needed. She was young, but, having been left an orphan early, she had long enjoyed her brother's close companionship and confidence, and the man's wide knowledge and thoughtfulness had had its effect in molding her character. Still, in this case, she did not respond. "It would be better for his tenants and the neighborhood generally if Clarence married; he can afford it now," Nasmyth went on. Again the girl was silent, and he wondered whether he had thoughtlessly made a serious blunder. It had been supposed among their friends that she would marry Clarence some day, though, so far as it was known, there was no definite understanding between them, and for a while the man's attitude had strengthened the idea. Indeed, when he had succeeded to George's possessions, every one had expected an announcement, which had not been made. What Millicent thought, or what she had looked for all along, did not appear. "I think you are right in one thing," she said, very calmly, at length. "If he would stay here, as George did and his neighbors do, it would be better for everybody, including himself." Nasmyth made a sign of agreement. Their intimate friends remained for the greater portion of the year on their estates, understanding the needs of their tenants and dependents and enjoying their good opinion, which was naturally increased by the fact that their expenses were chiefly incurred in the neighborhood. There were others who, as the small farmer recognized, returned as little as possible to the soil, squandering revenues raised by the stubborn labor of others in doubtful pleasures elsewhere and, when they brought their friends home, on luxuries despatched from town. These things made for bitterness. An unfortunate persistence in his hobby drove Nasmyth into a second blunder.