"I dare say she would sacrifice my own daughter quickly enough," he said.
"No; you are wrong; I do not believe it! She is making no war on you, or on her aunt! It's against me! She enjoys a contest; she's trying to beat me."
"She believes that I forged the Gillespie notes and ruined her father. Henry has undoubtedly told her so."
"Yes; and he has used her to get them away from young Gillespie. There's no question about that. But I have the notes, and I propose holding them for your protection. But I don't want to use them if I can help it."
"I appreciate what you are doing for me," he said quietly, but his eyes were still troubled and I saw that he had little faith in the outcome.
"Your sister is disposed to deal generously with Henry. She does not know where the dishonor lies."
"'We are all honorable men,'" he replied bitterly, slowly pacing the floor. His sleeves were rolled away from his sun-browned arms, his shirt was open at the throat, and though he wore the rough clothes of a mechanic he looked more the artist at work in a rural studio than the canoe-maker of the Tippecanoe. He walked to a window and looked down for a moment upon the singing creek, then came back to me and spoke in a different tone.
"I have given these years of my life to protecting my brother, and they must not be wasted. I have nothing to say against him; I shall keep silent."
"He has forfeited every right. Now is your time to punish him," I said; but Arthur Holbrook only looked at me pityingly.
"I don't want revenge, Mr. Donovan, but I am almost in a mood for justice," he said with a rueful smile; and just then Rosalind entered the shop.