Sometimes
the relations were inadequate, sometimes they wore an unauthentic air,
but most of them seemed, even after the passing of centuries, human
documents, and together built a marvellous great drama of life and
power, wickedness and passion and daring deeds.
When the shameful scandal burst forth young Saltyre was seen by neither
his father nor his brother. Neither of them had any desire to see him;
in fact, each detested the idea of confronting by any chance his hot,
intolerant eyes. "The Brat," his father had called him in his childhood,
"The Lout," when he had grown big-limbed and clumsy. Both he and Tenham
were sick enough, without being called upon to contemplate "The Lout,"
whose opinion, in any case, they preferred not to hear.
Saltyre, during the hideous days, shut himself up in the library. He did
not leave the house, even for exercise, until after the pair had fled.
His exercise he took in walking up and down from one end of the long
room to another. Devils were let loose in him. When Penzance came to
him, he saw their fury in his eyes, and heard it in the savagery of his
laugh.
He kicked an ancient volume out of his way as he strode to and fro.
"There has been plenty of the blood of the beast in us in bygone times,"
he said, "but it was not like this.
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