Her own brother had fallen by the hand of his.

She loved her brother more than any living being next to himself, just as he loved Lionel above any other but herself.

The pain that must be hers he knew; he experienced some of it in anticipation, participating it because it was hers and because all things that were hers he must account in some measure his own.
He rose up at last, cursing that wanton at Malpas who had come to fling this fresh and terrible difficulty where already he had to face so many.
He stood leaning upon the overmantel, his foot upon one of the dogs of the fender, and considered what to do.

He must bear his burden in silence, that was all.

He must keep this secret even from Rosamund.