CHAPTER XIV.

THE BROTHERS.




Now commenced a struggle in the bosom of Robert Bramble. It was some
hours before he could recover from the first blush of amazement at the
strange discovery he had made. Not to have had something of a brother's
feelings come over him at such a time, he must have been less than
human; and it was between the promptings of blood, of early
recollections of childhood, before he grew to that age when his
disposition, ruined by indulgence, had led him so bitterly to oppress
and injure his brother as to drive him from the home of their youth, and
the recollection of those little more matured years, when jealousy at
his superior aptness, strength, and success with "cousin Helen," had
made him hate him.

It was impossible for the man to forget the bitterness of the child;
besides, had not the same spirit of rivalry ripened, until he found his
brother in manhood still his successful rival with Helen Huntington? The
reader will remember that they had all three been children together, and
that the last time Charles had looked back at his home, as he started
away from it, his eye detected the little form of Helen, where she stood
gazing after him.

If there had been any better promptings in the heart of Robert Bramble,
they would have turned the balance in favor of his brother, and he would