"I had not thought of that," responded Clem. Neither had he. He had been so shocked at finding that the manner of his father's death had been known to Edward from the first, and that he had chosen to hush it up, that for the time being his mind had failed to grasp any of the consequences, near or remote, on which his brother had based his action in the affair.
"That would have been bad enough in all conscience," resumed Edward, "but worse, much worse, would have followed. Had my father's case been one of simple suicide, that might have been got over, painful though it would have been; but his letter has told you what there was in the background. One would have been only a misfortune, such as might happen in any family, but the other meant disgrace and social ruin to everyone connected with him. Could either you or I have ever held up our heads again in Ashdown? I am quite sure that I could not. I should have had to give up my position and all my prospects in life, and go away to some place where the name of Hazeldine had no taint of disgrace attached to it. Then, again, think what it would have meant to my mother and Fanny. They, too, would have had to seek some distant home, with poverty for their abiding companion. It would have gone far towards breaking my mother's heart, if it did not altogether do so, and who would knowingly marry the daughter of a man who----? But, surely, not another word is needed."
"It is a terrible picture that you have drawn," said Clement, with an involuntary catching of his breath. In one brief half-hour he felt as if he had taken leave of his youth forever.
"Is it in any one respect an overcharged picture? You cannot conscientiously say that it is."
[CHAPTER XXVII.]
WRONG VERSUS RIGHT.
It was impossible for Clement Hazeldine to say that the picture painted by his brother, dark though its colors were, was in any respect overdrawn. In truth, he knew not what reply to make. He sat silently revolving in his mind the various features of the case as they had been presented by Edward, who was now beginning to turn over the letters and papers on his table in a way which seemed to imply, or Clement thought so, that the point at issue had been thoroughly threshed out, and that any further discussion of it would be both distasteful and a waste of time. In point of fact, Edward was congratulating himself on having brought a very awkward bit of business to so satisfactory a conclusion. In all probability Clem would never allude to it again; it would be a secret between them--one that must never be breathed to a living soul, but equally one which they would never care to discuss with each other, nor to reopen in any way.
A movement on Clem's part drew Edward's attention to him. A sudden light had leapt to his eyes, a flush to his cheeks. What awkward question was he about to put now?
"Edward, it has just struck me for the first time, that if father really did put an end to his existence--and I am afraid we must accept it as the saddest of all sad facts that he did so--we had no right to claim the amount of his life policy from the Insurance Company."
It was now the turn of Edward Hazeldine to change color. Two vivid spots of red flamed out in his cheeks. "Yes," he exclaimed, in a harsh, strained voice, "I have been wondering whether that would be one of the points of objection which you would see fit to raise."