Then, as he would have held her protectingly, she gently pushed away.
"Don't--don't take me yet, dear--I should be crying in another moment--I'm so--so _beaten_--and I want not to cry till I've told you, oh, so many things! Sit again and let us talk calmly first.

Now why--_why_ did you pretend this wretched thing ?" He faced her proudly, with the big, honest, clumsy dignity of a rugged man--and there was a loving quiet in his tones that touched her ineffably.
"Poor Bernal had told me his--his _contretemps_.

The rest is simple.

He is my brother.

The last I remember of our mother is her straining me to her poor breast and saying, 'Oh, take care of little Bernal!'" Tears were glistening in his eyes.
"From the very freedom of the poor boy's talk about religious matters, it is the more urgent that his conduct be irreproachable.