"I know that you do not." Ronder's face was really troubled; there was an expression in his eyes that his aunt had never seen.
Brandon moved on, looking neither to right nor left.
Ronder continued: "I know how you feel about me. But to-day--somehow--this service--I feel that I can't allow our quarrel to continue without speaking. It isn't easy for me----" He broke off.
Brandon's voice shook.
"I have nothing to say to you. I do not wish to say anything to you. You have been my enemy since you first came to this town. My work--my family----"
"I am not your enemy. Indeed, indeed I am not. I won't deny that when I came here I found that you, who were the most important man in the place, thought differently from myself on every important question. You, yourself, who are an honest man, would not have had me back out from what I believed to be my duty. I could do no other. But this personal quarrel between us was most truly not of my own seeking. I have liked and admired you from the beginning. Such a matter as the Pybus living has forced us into opposition, but I am convinced that there are many views that we have in common, that we could be friends working together--"
Brandon stopped.
"Did my son, or did he not, come to see you before he went up to London?"
Ronder hesitated.
"Yes," he said, "he did. But--"