"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly.
Sir John started with wonder.
"Why, William, what mean you?"
I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if possible, still more enraged as I proceeded.
"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours—its parks, its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the elder son has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make his way in the world as best he may."
"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours—I have nothing that is not yours."
"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to win away the love of my affianced bride."
"Who mean you, William?"
"Helen Burnett."
My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his hands.