Mark Samphire listened to his brother with ears lacerated by envy; and because devils tore him he was the more determined to exorcise them, in the hope that what he did and said might hide what he felt. When Archie finished, the younger brother sprang up and seized his hand.
"From the bottom of my soul," he exclaimed, "I believe that this voice of yours will be heard not only in Westchester, but in every cathedral in England."
Archie answered, dully, "If you had my voice, Mark——"
"Ah!" gasped Mark, "if—if——" He paused, and ended quietly, "We need not speak of that."
"Even that is denied me. I can read the lessons or anything else save what I write myself. Oh, I have tried and tried. Always the lump comes in my throat—and I hear the laugh of that girl. You remember?"
Archie nodded, betraying his sympathy with a shudder. "It was awful," he said, "awful."
He handed the sheets of manuscript to Mark, adding, "It has helped me enormously. I will avail myself of some of your ideas."
"You will redrape my ideas with your words."
Mark gazed abstractedly at the cathedral; then he turned to his brother.
"Look here—I give it to you. Do what you like with it. I can’t preach it myself. It’s not b-b-bad."
He paused as the stammer seized him. "Not bad?" echoed Archibald. "Why it’s splendid—splendid!"
"And why shouldn’t I help you—my brother?" His voice softened, as he stretched out his thin hand and touched Archibald’s mighty arm. "Take it!"
Archie hesitated, staring inquiringly at Mark. Mark had always been such a stickler for plain-dealing. Then he remembered what Billy had said: "Take what he gives, _generously_, and so you will best help him to play his part in life."
Mark, meantime, was reflecting that he should like to read in Betty’s face the recognition of talents which he was not allowed to proclaim to the world.
"Take it," he repeated. "And, look here, I shall sit beside Betty Kirtling, and afterwards I shall tell her that I wrote it and persuaded you to preach it. No one else shall know."
Archie, unable to determine the ethics of the matter, sensible in a dull, inarticulate way that he ought to say NO, said—YES. His own sermon was inadequate; there was not time to prepare another; and he lacked the power of interpreting the message of those grey stones yonder. This and more flitted through a mind large enough but somewhat conventionally furnished.