'Your brother will soon be the nearest thing in the world to you. Oh, my boy,' said old Ferrier, suddenly raising himself on his elbow, and clasping Dick's strong right hand in both his, 'for God's sake, don't quarrel with him! If you ever cared for me, keep friends with him. If you and he weren't friends, I couldn't lie easy in my grave. And it's been a long life--I should like to lie easy at last!' 'I don't quarrel with him, father.' 'Well, lad--well, I've thought you did; perhaps I'm wrong. Anyway, don't quarrel--if it's only for your old dad's sake. I've loved you both so dearly.' 'I will try to do everything you wish.' 'I know you will, Dick. You always have done that. Was that Roland just came in? If it is, send him to me.' The young man stood silently for a few moments. Then he bent down over his father and kissed his forehead twice. When he left the room he met a servant on the landing. 'Is Mr Roland at home yet?' 'Yes, sir; he's just come in.' 'Tell him Mr Ferrier wishes to see him at once.' 'Miss Ferrier told him, sir, directly he came in.' He turned and went to his own room. A quarter of an hour later Roland stood outside his father's door. He opened it gently, and entered, his slippered feet treading the floor of the sick-room as silently as a nurse's. As he stood a moment in the dim light, eyes less keen and less expectant than those looking at him from the bed might have easily mistaken him for his brother. The slight difference in breadth of shoulder and depth of chest was concealed by the loose indoor jacket he wore. There was no trace about him of his wet and muddy walk, and he looked altogether a much fitter occupant for the easy-chair that stood at the sick man's bedside than the stalwart, weather-stained, and unsympathetic-looking figure that had last sat in it. 'Rowley, why didn't you come before?' began the old man. 'Oh, I couldn't, father. It is a beastly night. I was awfully wet and muddy. I only waited to change my things, and make myself presentable. How are you to-night?' 'Your brother came up wet enough,' was all the answer. 'Did he? What a careless fellow he is. He never seems to think of that sort of thing.' 'Oh, well, I suppose you didn't know.' 'Know what, father?' 'How much I wanted to see you.' 'Why, no, of course I didn't,' said Roland in an altered tone, and with a look of new anxiety in his face. 'What is it, father? I thought you were better to-day.' 'I shall never be better, lad. Doctor Gibson told me so, and I know he's right. You and Dick will soon be masters here. But don't worry, Rowley,' he added, catching both his son's arms; 'it was bound to come some day.' For a moment the young man had hardly seemed to realise what the words meant; but now a long, anxious, eager look at his father's face made the truth clear to him. An intense anguish came into his face, and throwing his arms round the other's neck, he fell on his knees in a burst of passionate tears.