III
They were less like each other now than ever before--the elder with his matted, black beard, his strong features, and the vertical lines in his low brow under the upright stubble of his iron-grey hair; the younger with his luminous brown eyes and delicate face, his full round forehead, and his thin, silken, light hair brushed backward to the crown.
Christian Christiansson was quivering to the core at this first encounter with the brother whom he had wronged and ruined, but he tried to bear himself bravely and to see how safe it would be to reveal his identity when the time came to do so.
"It's good of you to give up your room to me," he began.
"That's nothing--nothing at all," said Magnus.
"And perhaps you ought to know why I'm here to-night."
"Please yourself, sir--please yourself."
"To tell you the truth, then, I'm here to attend the auction to-morrow morning. I only heard of it in Reykjavik yesterday, having arrived by the 'Laura' the day before."
"So that was the business that brought you, sir?"
"It was. I've been abroad for fifteen years, and I've made some money, and now I've come home to invest it. So knowing this was a good farm----"