“All the rest of the family are good-looking.”

“Yes,” said Robert dreamily.

So Alec jumped to the conclusion that Robert did not consider Miss Rexford good-looking.  He did not tell anything more about her or ask anything more.  He saw no reason for insulting Robert by saying he had at first overheard her conversation, and that it had been continued to him after she had mistaken one for the other.  He wondered over those of her remarks which he remembered, and his family pride was hurt by them.  He did not conceive that Robert had been much hurt, simply because he betrayed no sign of injured feeling.  Younger members of a family often long retain a curiously lofty conception of their elders, because in childhood they have looked upon them as embodiments of age and wisdom.  Alec, in loose fashion of thought, supposed Robert to be too much occupied by more important affairs to pay heed to a woman’s opinion of him, but he cherished a dream of some day explaining to Miss Rexford that she was mistaken in his brother’s character.  His pulse beat quicker at the thought, because it would involve nearness to her and equality of conversation.  That Robert had any special fancy for the lady never entered his mind.

Although we may be willing to abuse those who belong to us we always feel that the same or any censure coming from an outsider is more or less unjust; and, too, although the faults of near relatives grieve us more bitterly than the crimes of strangers, yet most of us have an easy-going way of forgetting all about the offence at the first opportunity.  There is nothing in the world stronger than the quiet force of the family tie, which, except in case of need, lies usually so passive that its strength is overlooked by the superficial observer.  It was by virtue of this tie now that the two brothers, although they had so great a difference, although they were so constituted as to see most things very differently, found themselves glad to be in each other’s company.  Their hearts grew warmer by mere proximity; they talked of old family incidents, and of the incidents of the present, with equal zest.  The one thing they did not immediately mention was the subject of the quarrel about which they had not yet come to an agreement.

One thing that fretted Alec considerably during that Sunday and Monday was that Bates had arrived at Chellaston in such a weak state, and had had so severe an attack of his malady on the Sunday evening, that it was impossible to take him to see the body of the old man who went by the name of Cameron.  It was in vain that Bates protested, now more strongly than ever, that he was certain the man was not Cameron; as he would give no proof of his certainty further than what had already been discussed between them, Alec could not but feel that he was unreasonable in refusing to take any interest in the question of identity.  However, he was not well enough to be troubled, certainly not well enough to be moved.  Alec strode over to Cooper’s farm alone, and took a last look at the old man where he lay in a rough shed, and gave his evidence about the death before the coroner.