He shut the door of his room and walked slowly across to the window opposite. He had had this room from his boyhood. At first he had shared it with William, but the elder brother had been promoted to a better apartment when he began to succeed at Payson’s. Through long months of illness, after the fall that lamed him, Daniel had remained in the small upper room where the slant of the gable made a queer triangle that couldn’t be decorated. The furniture was simple enough and rather sparse, but he had put up some bookshelves for himself, and they were well filled now with books on common law. Still hanging beside the bed was the picture of Virginia that he had taken from the library; but he did not look at it now. He went to the window and opened the shutters wide, disclosing a square of sky where the white clouds floated; but he did not look up. In spite of himself he looked down. His window commanded a view of Denbigh Crossing, and involuntarily his eyes turned in that direction. He saw nothing but the thick foliage of a group of chestnuts, and the winding road disappearing under the arches of their wide branches. He stood for some time looking gloomily at the prospect. He knew intuitively how his brother felt. William wanted to grovel in the dirt at Virginia’s feet and beg her pardon; but would he dare to do it? Daniel remembered Virginia sitting at the piano with the childish face of William in its frame above her head. Daniel had never doubted that she loved his brother. Then the scene in the court-room came back to him, and Fanchon’s small, quivering face. It had wrung his heart to drag her story from her, even to save Leigh; but he had done it--without mercy, too. And now---- His thoughts broke off suddenly, for the door opened, and Leigh came in and shut it behind him. The boy was white and shaken. He put out an unsteady hand and clutched at the back of a chair. “Dan,” he said hoarsely, “what have they done to her? Where’s Fanchon?” Daniel laid his hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Leigh,” he said kindly. The boy obeyed him awkwardly. He sat there staring at his own feet, unwilling to look at his brother. “Leigh,” said Daniel, “it’s none of our business--it’s William’s.” “They’ve quarreled, and it’s not her fault. You know it, Dan. We’ve all been dreadful to her!” Daniel, who was still standing, looking down at him, was silent a moment; then he spoke slowly. “I think you’re right, Leigh, we have been; but there’s another side to this. She wouldn’t tell me where she was staying. She came to court for your sake, but she’s done with the rest of us, Leigh.” Leigh flared up. “Emmy says William’s going to divorce her and marry Virginia Denbigh!” Daniel went white. “Emily has no right to say that.” Involuntarily his hands clenched at his sides, but he gripped himself. “You’ve had a lesson, Leigh. You keep your hands off!” The boy rose sullenly, his face still flushed. “I owe her everything,” he said.