"And what is your house to me, sir? What has it done for me? The world is wide."
Old Allan was confounded. Silent, dumb, with great staring eyes, he looked round into the faces of those about him. Then in thick, choking tones he shouted:
"Shak' thy brother's hand, or thou'rt no brother of his."
"Perhaps not," said Hugh very quietly.
"Shak' hands, I tell thee." The old man's fists were clinched. His body quivered in every limb.
His son's lips were firmly set; he made no answer.
The old man snatched from Mr. Bonnithorne the stick he carried. At this Hugh lifted his eyes sharply until they met the eyes of his father. Allan was transfixed. The stick fell from his hand. Then Hugh Ritson halted into the house.
"Come back, come back ... my boy ... Hughie ... come back!" the old man sobbed out. But there was no reply.
"Allan, be patient, forgive him; he will ask your pardon," said Mrs. Ritson.
Paul and Greta had stolen away. The old man was now speechless, and his eyes, bent on the ground, swam with tears.