"No," Raymond said; "I would rather you were present."
Reginald, whom Stevens had summoned, now came down, and Raymond said,—
"Reginald, I have borrowed money from Percival I had no means of repaying. I was so cowardly as to let her—Salome—bear the whole burden of it. She met him and asked him to spare me exposure; and he did, for her sake. It might have been better if he had come down on me then. But it is no use looking back. I am going to see Uncle Loftus and tell him the whole truth, and perhaps he will help me out of the difficulty. But, Reginald, the worst part is yet to come. I caused Salome's illness by dragging her down into Harstone to get a necklet of hers on which I was trying to raise money. If she dies, it will lie at my door. Forgive me, Reginald."
Reginald turned away. He felt as if he could not look at his brother. But Philip Percival said,—
"Your sister would be the first to say 'Forgive him.' You know it. Shake hands with your brother, and let us, you and I, do our best to help him to keep his good resolutions."
Reginald came back and held out his hand. Neither he nor Raymond could speak, but the brothers were friends at last.
A roll lying on the table now attracted Reginald. It was addressed to "Miss Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, Harstone."
"What is that?" Raymond asked.
Reginald looked for a moment, and then exclaimed:
"I think I know. Yes—oh! poor Salome! it is her story."