And now this news, while it affected him, did not penetrate to the still sanctuary that he had hewn out of his heart during those months of discipline.
But his father was roused.
"He should have written to me," he said sternly.

"And, my wife, I will beg you to remember that I have a right to my son's business." Lady Torridon did not move or answer.

He leaned back again, and passed his hand tenderly through Chris's arm.
* * * * * It was very strange to the younger son to find himself a few minutes later up again in the west gallery of the chapel, where he had knelt two years before; and for a few moments he almost felt himself at home.

But the mechanical shifting of his scapular aside as he sat down for the psalms, recalled facts.

Then he had been in his silk suit, his hands had been rough with his cross-bow, his beard had been soft on his chin, and the blood hot in his cheeks.