"Brooke," said Talbot, in mournful tones, "every word of yours is a reproach to me. You force me to remember how base I have been in allowing you to sacrifice yourself for me. Oh, if I could only recall the past few hours! if we were only back again in the tower, I would never let you go with me; I would make my journey alone, and—"
"I think," interrupted Brooke, "that I shall have to shut up. Come, now, let's make a bargain. I'll say no more about it, if you don't. Is it a bargain?"
"I suppose so."
There was silence now for a short time, after which Brooke said:
"Talbot, lad, you don't object, do you, to my holding your hand?"
"Object, Brooke? Certainly not."
"It seems to have the effect," said Brooke, "of soothing me, and of making my self-reproach less keen."
"When you hold my hand, Brooke," said Talbot, in a low voice, whose tremor showed unusual feeling, "I feel stronger, and all my weakness leaves me. And I like best of all what you said to me about my not being a girl. I love to have you call me 'Talbot,' for it sounds as though you have confidence in poer me; but, best of all, I love to hear you say 'Talbot, lad;' for it seems as though you look on me as your equal. Your tone is that of a brave man addressing his comrade, and the very sound of your voice seems to drive all my fear away."
"Good boy!" said Brooke, in a harsh, husky voice. After which, he cleared his throat violently, but said nothing further for a while.
"You see, Talbot, lad," said he, at last, "it is this: I have a feeling that I can't get rid of, and I've had it ever since we left the tower. The feeling is this—that you are my younger brother. You don't understand. I'll tell you about him."