“Nay, Joseph, I am old. I am in the autumn of my days, and I would see these two wed before I die.” “And are damned for a croaking, maudlin' craven,” added Joseph. “Pah! You make me sick.” There was a moment's silence, during which the brothers eyed each other, Gregory with a sternness before which Joseph's mocking eye was forced at length to fall. “Joseph, you shall go to the Lord General.” “Well,” said Joseph weakly, “we will say that I go. But if Kenneth be a prisoner, what then?” “You must beg his liberty from Cromwell. He will not refuse you.” “Will he not? I am none so confident.” “But you can make the attempt, and leastways we shall have some definite knowledge of what has befallen the boy.” “The which definite knowledge seems to me none so necessary. Moreover, Gregory, bethink you; there has been a change, and the wind carries an edge that will arouse every devil of rheumatism in my bones. I am not a lad, Gregory, and travelling at this season is no small matter for a man of fifty.” Gregory approached the table, and leaning his hand upon it: “Will you go?” he asked, squarely eyeing his brother. Joseph fell a-pondering. He knew Gregory to be a man of fixed ideas, and he bethought him that were he now to refuse he would be hourly plagued by Gregory's speculations touching the boy's fate and recriminations touching his own selfishness. On the other hand, however, the journey daunted him. He was not a man to sacrifice his creature comforts, and to be asked to sacrifice them to a mere whim, a shadow, added weight to his inclination to refuse the undertaking. “Since you have the matter so much at heart,” said he at length, “does it not occur to you that you could plead with greater fervour, and be the likelier to succeed?” “You know that Cromwell will lend a more willing ear to you than to me--perchance because you know so well upon occasion how to weave your stock of texts into your discourse,” he added with a sneer. “Will you go, Joseph?” “Bethink you that we know not where he is. I may have to wander for weeks o'er the face of England.” “Will you go?” Gregory repeated. “Oh, a pox on it,” broke out Joseph, rising suddenly. “I'll go since naught else will quiet you. I'll start to-morrow.” “Joseph, I am grateful. I shall be more grateful yet if you will start to-day.” “No, sink me, no.” “Yes, sink me, yes,” returned Gregory. “You must, Joseph.” Joseph spoke of the wind again; the sky, he urged, was heavy with rain. “What signifies a day?” he whined. But Gregory stood his ground until almost out of self-protection the other consented to do his bidding and set out as soon as he could make ready. This being determined, Joseph left his brother, and cursing Master Stewart for the amount of discomfort which he was about to endure on his behoof, he went to prepare for the journey.