"No—that is—yes. He told me about his childhood; how his brother was the favorite, and he was always second best, and it made him very unhappy."
"Indeed!" I ejaculated, indifferently enough. I knew nothing about his brother except that he was dead, or had disappeared and was thought to be dead. The story had never reached my ears, and I did not know anything about the circumstances.
"How did his brother die?" I asked.
"Oh, he is dead," answered Hermione gravely. "He died in the East eighteen months ago. Aunt Annie worshiped him; it was his death that affected her mind. At least, I believe so. Professor Cutter says it is something else,—something connected with cousin Paul; but papa seems to think it was Alexander's death."
"What does the professor say?" I inquired.
"He will not tell me. He is a very odd person. He says it is something about Paul, and that it is not nice, and that papa would not like me to know it. And then papa tells me that it was only Alexander's death."
"That is very strange," I said. "If I were you, I would believe your father rather than the professor."
"Of course; how could I help believing papa?" Hermione turned her beautiful blue eyes full upon my face, as though wondering at the simplicity of my remark. Of course she believed her father.
"You would not think Paul capable of doing anything not nice, would you?" I asked.
Hermione blushed, and looked away towards the distant woods.