"Become a preacher somewhere—under Meynell."
The younger brother looked with a sort of inquisitive grin at the elder.
"You're ready to put your money on him to that extent? Well, all I know is, father's dead set against him—and I've no use for him—never had!"
"That's because you didn't know him," said Stephen briefly. "What did you ever have against him?"
He looked sharply at his brother. The disagreeable idea crossed his mind that his father, whose weakness for Maurice he well knew, might have told the story to the lad.
Maurice laughed, and pulled his scanty moustache as he turned away.
"Oh! I don't know—we never hit it off. My fault, of course. Ta, ta."
As Stephen rode away he was haunted for a few minutes by some disagreeable reminiscences of a school holiday when Maurice had been discovered drunk in one of the public-houses of the village by the Rector, who had firmly dug him out and walked him home. But this and other recollections, not dissimilar, soon passed away, under the steady assault of thoughts far more compelling….
* * * * *
He took the bridle-path through Maudeley, and was presently aware, in a clearing of the wood, of the figure of Meynell in front of him.