'The fact is, Jobson,' said Mr. Brimble, 'there's a skeleton cupboard in every man's house, and mine hasn't escaped that ugly piece of furniture.'
The squire was at his dinner-table, which the ladies had not long left, and at which the stranger had that day been a guest.
'I married to please myself, and not my father, and he took an effectual way of showing me that he had that view of it, by disinheriting me. It did not happen to be of any consequence, as far as the money went, for Mrs. Brimble had more than we wanted. I was obliged to part with my name, and take hers, before I could lay hold of her property; but as I have no sons, that is a trifle. When a man gets to grey hairs, he knows what a name is worth; though I believe the girls would rather be poor De la Marks than rich Brimbles—at least they fancy so now; but money is a vastly comfortable thing, Jobson, and glory without it is very hungry work.'
'You had another brother?' said the stranger, moving aside the wine which the squire pushed towards him.
'I had,' said the squire sorrowfully; 'did you ever hear of him?'
'Yes; I knew one who was intimate with him abroad; he was strongly attached to you.'
'Attached!' said the squire, with an agitated voice; 'we had but one heart. He ought now to be at Parker's Dew; instead of that—there,' said the squire, emptying his glass; 'I won't say any more, and I give myself great credit. Come,' he continued cheerfully, 'who was it that knew Eustace?'
'A stranger to you,' was the reply; 'but, Mr. Brimble, I knew your brother myself.'
'Hah!' said the squire starting; 'knew him, and you never told me.'
'No,' said the stranger; 'the truth is, I loved him, and you reminded me of him so much, when first I saw you, that I should have found it difficult to speak of him.'
'They always thought us alike,' said the squire gently, leaning his head down to hide the tears that filled his eyes. 'Well'—stretching out his hand—'we have now indeed a bond of union. Tell me all you remember about him.'
'All I remember of him?' said the stranger, with a smile, grasping the proffered hand; 'I cannot do that to-night; it is now'—
A violent ringing and the sudden entrance of a servant put a stop to the conversation, 'Dr. Cruden, sir, has just come from Parker's Dew, and wishes to see you alone. I have shown him into your room.'
'I am alone,' said the squire; 'tell him I've only a particular friend with me, and the wine's on the table. He's one of the best little fellows in the world, the doctor is,' he said, as the door closed; 'but he's continually croaking at me about a reconciliation with that fellow that turned poor Eustace out of his place to get into it. Every time he starves himself into a low fever, he comes here telling me he is going to die. I won't see him alone.'
The servant re-entered, 'Dr. Cruden, sir, cannot see you in the presence of anybody; his compliments, and he will not detain you.' And, having received no answer, the man respectfully closed the door.
'Don't you go to the ladies yet, Jobson,' said the squire, as he reluctantly followed the servant. 'I shall soon dispose of the doctor's confab, and send him into the drawing-room for some music, and then you and I can finish our wine and our talk together.'
'My dear sir,' said Dr. Cruden, as soon as he saw him, 'I've something most important to communicate.'
'I'm very sorry for it; people should never talk of important things at this time of night—it's the way to get nightmare, and you ought to know that. Come now, put it off till to-morrow; they are all in fine order for music in the drawing-room; ............