The two brothers met in the middle of the room and shook hands. Mr. Castlemaine was the elder by two years, but he did not look so, and there was a very great likeness between them. Fine, upright, handsome men, both; with clear, fresh faces, well-cut features, and keen, flashing, dark eyes. Very pleasant men to talk to; but silent men as to their own affairs. Mr. Castlemaine had just come in from his residence, Greylands' Rest: it was in contradistinction to him that the banker was invariably called Mr. Peter Castlemaine. "All well at home, James?" "Quite so, thank you." "You were not in at market, to-day." "No: I had nothing particular to call me in. Are you expecting a large party this evening?" "Only six of us. Here comes another." The butler's step was again heard. But this time he came, not to announce a guest, but to bring a note, just delivered. Peter Castlemaine's hand shook slightly as he opened it. He dreaded all letters now. It proved, however, to be only an excuse from one of the expected guests: and a strange relief sat on his face as he turned to his brother. "Lawrence can't come, James. So there'll be but five of us." "Lawrence is not much loss," said Mr. Castlemaine, "You don't look quite yourself, Peter," he added, to his brother; something in the latter's countenance having struck his observant eye. "I think you are working too hard; have thought so for some time. Don't let the love of money take all pleasure out of life. Surely you must have made enough, and might now take some rest." The banker laughed. "As to taking rest, that's easier recommended than done, James. I am too young to give up work yet: I should be like a fish out of water." "Ah well--we are all, I expect, wedded to our work--whatever it may be: creatures of habit," admitted Mr. Castlemaine. "I will just go and see Mary Ursula. She in her room, I suppose. What a treasure you possess in that girl, Peter!" "Beyond the wealth of Solomon; beyond all price," was the impulsive answer, and Peter Castlemaine's face glowed as he made it. "Yes, you will find her in her room, James." Mr. Castlemaine went to the end of the wide and handsome passage,--its walls lined with paintings, its floor covered with a carpet, rich and soft as moss,--and knocked at a door there. A sweet voice bade him enter.