"Truly criminal, I think," Mr. Scarse said gloomily; "a nice family history for a sedate English gentleman to have. I wonder what my constituents would say if they heard it? Ah, there is a skeleton in every house. In a way it is a relief to me to talk of it even to you, Van Zwieten. Mrs. St. Leger will never mention or listen to the subject." "Well, well, my friend,"--Van Zwieten was becoming impatient of this digression,--"what did your brother do when he was cut off from his family?" "You'll never believe it when I tell you. Strange to say, he mended his ways. On the Continent--in Switzerland, I fancy--he came into contact with some Socialists and imbibed their ideas. He put away all his fine clothes and extravagant tastes and became quite humble and simple." "Because he had no money to do otherwise." "There is something in that. Well, he lived among these Socialists for many a long year. He went to Russia and saw Tolstoi, knew Karl Marx, and threw himself headlong into schemes whereby the human race was to be saved by all manner of devices, having as their basis the equitable division of property. Then he married a young girl--a Swiss, the daughter of one of his socialistic friends--and returned to England. He was poor, so I helped him." "Out of your poverty!--how noble!" sneered Van Zwieten, lighting a fresh cigar. "Oh, I was richer then. I was married and my wife had money. Then she died a few years after Brenda was born, and I put the child to school as soon as she was of an age. She was brought up away from me," he went on sadly; "that is why I have such small influence over her." "You will have influence enough to make her marry me, my friend." "I doubt it--I doubt it. Well, my brother lived in a poor way, having but little money, besides which, his ideas were all against luxury. His wife was beautiful and frivolous and had no love for him. She coveted money and position, neither of which he could give her, and would not if he could. That was ten years ago." "Ah! and what happened then?" "My brother's wife met Malet. He was handsome, rich, and a scoundrel, and he ran away with her." Van Zwieten appeared astonished. "He wasn't then married to Lady Jenny?" "No, he married Lady Jenny later. But he ran off with my brother's wife to Italy. And the shock of his wife's treachery gave poor Robert brain fever." "He loved her then?" "He worshipped her. She was his life--he lived only to make her happy. Well, he had his recompense! She deceived him, deserted him. Without a word she eloped with that scoundrel. Robert lost his reason, and I had to put him in an asylum. There he was for two years. When he came out he went in search of his wife, for he still loved her. Malet by that time had come back alone, and shortly afterward he married Lady Jenny. The reptile! do you wonder that I hated him? For Robert's sake I saw him and forced him to tell the truth. I threatened to inform his wife of his past if he did not."