been faithful friends and loving brethren through many a change and
trial; but there was a grievous fault in both. Each was given to exact
from the other's friendship, though in a different fashion; for
Christopher expected too much of inward affection, and Hubert had too
much respect to outward observances. Alike, on the ground of
resemblance and of difference, sprang up the roots of bitterness which
troubled their days. At first, their strangership, their strivings to
live and thrive in the English land, and, above all, the memory and
loving counsels of their lost Gottleib, had bound them heart and hand
together; but as the years of manhood hardened heart and mind, as
increasing gains brought leisure and anxious looks on life,
differences of opinion, of tastes, and of inclinations, gradually
crept in between them, and their elder brother waned away from their
remembrance, far off among the scenes and familiars of youth.

Time brought further occasion of discord: the house of an English
bookseller at the foot of the Row had grown more attractive than his
own to Hubert, because of a certain Mistress Margaret who lived there
with her father. The bookseller was old, narrow-minded, and stiff for
presbytery; he approved of no people but Englishmen, and had a special
prejudice against German Lutherans. His daughter believed firmly in
his wisdom, and had been from infancy the old man's darling. She was
fair, good, and clever; but the girl had a wayward pride, and a wit
that was too ready for her judgment. Nevertheless, Hubert had found
favour in her eyes as well as in those of her father, perhaps because
he endeavoured earnestly to win it; while Christopher was composing
tender verses, addressed to a young and very pious Catholic widow in
the neighbourhood, who held fast her then persecuted faith.

The bookseller hesitated on giving his daughter to a Lutheran, and the