“Because I can’t stand hearing the prayers read by Bruce!” exclaimed Vibert with some indignation. “It’s a mockery for him to call his own brother a selfish idiot, to treat him as if he were a slave or a dog, and then to kneel down and pray like a saint, asking for meekness and mercy, and all kinds of graces which he never had, and never wishes to have. If that be not downright hypocrisy, I know not what is deserving of the name.”
“Bruce is the very last person in the world who would play the hypocrite,” cried Emmie. “As for the harsh name which he gave you, I believe that in his heart he is sorry for what he said in a moment of ill-humour.”
“Then why does he not own frankly that he is sorry?” cried Vibert. “If Bruce would but confess that he regrets his hasty words, I’d hold out my hand at once and say, ‘Let by-gones be by-gones, old boy; I’m not the fellow to harbour a grudge.’ But Bruce would not own a fault were it to save his life or mine. Pride—that pride that repels advice, resents reproof, and refuses to acknowledge an error (how well the captain described it!)—that is Bruce’s pet sin, and he’ll carry it with him to his grave.”
“God forbid!” faintly murmured Emmie.
“Bruce and I are to begin daily studies at S—— next Monday,” continued Vibert, who was making good progress with his breakfast whilst he kept up the conversation. “I know that papa imagines that the way to keep me safe and out of mischief, is to yoke me to one whom he considers the impersonification of sense and sobriety. He’d couple a greyhound with a surly mastiff; but the greyhound, at least, will strain hard against the connecting strap. If Bruce start early, I will start late; if he walk fast, I will walk slowly; I’ll keep as wide apart from him as the tether will let me get;—in plain words, I’ll have as little to do with Bruce as I possibly can.”
“Vibert, dear Vibert, it so grieves me that you should feel thus towards him,” cried Emmie. “Bruce is not without his faults, but he is a noble-minded, unselfish—”
“Unselfish! I deny it!” exclaimed Vibert, while he kept the morsel which he was just about to convey to his lips suspended on his fork. “Unselfish indeed! when he has taken advantage of being sent on in front to make arrangements to secure the very best room in the house for himself!”
“He never did,” cried Emmie eagerly. “The west room was prepared for me, but I could not endure it, and, as a matter of kindness, Bruce exchanged our respective apartments.”
“Why could you not endure that capital room?” asked Vibert in surprise.
Emmie, who had been wishing, praying that she might be enabled to act the part of a faithful counsellor and friend to her younger brother, felt painfully that she had to step down from her position of vantage, as she owned, with a blush, that she had not liked to sleep next door to the bricked-up room.