But was he making a new home for himself?  This was Walter's bewildering thought as he cantered back, after his strange discovery of his brother at the cottage.  Was it really so?  Had this shy, silent brother of his actually taken to himself a wife unknown to any one, just as his poor sister had married clandestinely?  It might be so--and why not?  Strange people do strange things; and not only so, but Walter's conscience told him that his brother might well have been excused for seeking love _out_ of his home, seeing that he got but little love _in_ it.  And what about the children?  No doubt they were hers; he must have married a widow. But what a poky place they were living in.  She must have been poor, and have inveigled Amos into marrying her, knowing that he was heir to Flixworth Manor.  Eh, what a disgrace!  Such were Walter's thoughts as he rode home from the scene of the strange encounter.  But then, again, he felt that this was nothing but conjecture after all.  Why might not Amos have just been doing a kind act to some poor cottager and her children, whom he had learned to take an interest in?  And yet it was odd that he should be so terribly upset at being found out in doing a little act of kindness.  Walter was sure that not a shadow of moral wrong could rest on his brother's conduct.  He might have made a fool of himself, but it could not be anything worse.