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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Under False Pretences, by Adeline Sergeant
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Under False Pretences
+       A Novel
+
+
+Author: Adeline Sergeant
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 23, 2010  [eBook #31375]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from
+page images generously made available by Early Canadiana Online
+(http://www.canadiana.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/33035
+
+
+
+
+
+UNDER FALSE PRETENCES
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+ADELINE SERGEANT
+
+Author of _Jacobi's Wife, Beyond Recall, An Open Foe, etc._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year one
+thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine by William Bryce, in the office
+of the Minister of Agriculture.
+
+Toronto;
+William Bryce, Publisher.
+
+
+
+
+UNDER FALSE PRETENCES.
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+   CHAPTER I.       Prologue to the Story
+   CHAPTER II.      BY THE LOCH.
+   CHAPTER III.     HUGO LUTTRELL.
+   CHAPTER IV.      IN THE TWILIGHT.
+   CHAPTER V.       THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.
+   CHAPTER VI.      MOTHER AND SON.
+   CHAPTER VII.     A FAREWELL.
+   CHAPTER VIII.    IN GOWER-STREET.
+   CHAPTER IX.      ELIZABETH'S WOOING.
+   CHAPTER X.       BROTHER DINO.
+   CHAPTER XI.      ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.
+   CHAPTER XII.     THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.
+   CHAPTER XIII.    SAN STEFANO.
+   CHAPTER XIV.     THE PRIOR'S OPINION.
+   CHAPTER XV.      THE VILLA VENTURI.
+   CHAPTER XVI.     "WITHOUT A REFERENCE."
+   CHAPTER XVII.    PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.
+   CHAPTER XVIII.   THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.
+   CHAPTER XIX.     A LOST LETTER.
+   CHAPTER XX.      "MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."
+   CHAPTER XXI.     A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.
+   CHAPTER XXII.    BRIAN'S WELCOME.
+   CHAPTER XXIII.   THE WISHING WELL.
+   CHAPTER XXIV.    "GOOD-BYE."
+   CHAPTER XXV.     A COVENANT.
+   CHAPTER XXVI.    ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.
+   CHAPTER XXVII.   PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.
+   CHAPTER XXVIII.  A REVELATION.
+   CHAPTER XXIX.    CHAPTER XXIX.
+   CHAPTER XXX.     FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.
+   CHAPTER XXXI.    ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.
+   CHAPTER XXXII.   RETRIBUTION.
+   CHAPTER XXXIII.  WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.
+   CHAPTER XXXIV.   PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.
+   CHAPTER XXXV.    DINO'S HOME-COMING.
+   CHAPTER XXXVI.   BY LAND AND SEA.
+   CHAPTER XXXVII.  WRECKED.
+   CHAPTER XXXVIII. ON THE ROCAS REEF.
+   CHAPTER XXXIX.   BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
+   CHAPTER XL.      KITTY.
+   CHAPTER XLI.     KITTY'S FRIENDS.
+   CHAPTER XLII.    A FALSE ALARM.
+   CHAPTER XLIII.   TRAPPED.
+   CHAPTER XLIV.    HUGO'S VICTORY.
+   CHAPTER XLV.     TOO LATE!
+   CHAPTER XLVI.    A MERE CHANCE.
+   CHAPTER XLVII.   FOUND.
+   CHAPTER XLVIII.  ANGELA.
+   CHAPTER XLIX.    KITTY'S WARNING.
+   CHAPTER L.       MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.
+   CHAPTER LI.      A LAST CONFESSION.
+   CHAPTER LII.     "THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Prologue to the Story.
+
+In Two Parts.
+
+
+I.
+
+It was in the year 1854 that an English gentleman named Edward Luttrell
+took up his abode in a white-walled, green-shuttered villa on the slopes
+of the western Apennines. He was accompanied by his wife (a Scotchwoman
+and an heiress), his son (a fine little fellow, five years old), and a
+couple of English servants. The party had been travelling in Italy for
+some months, and it was the heat of the approaching summer, as well as
+the delicate state of health in which Mrs. Luttrell found herself, that
+induced Mr. Luttrell to seek out some pleasant house amongst the hills
+where his wife and child might enjoy cool breezes and perfect repose.
+For he had lately had reason to be seriously concerned about Mrs.
+Luttrell's health.
+
+The husband and wife were as unlike each other as they well could be.
+Edward Luttrell was a broad-shouldered, genial, hearty man, warmly
+affectionate, hasty in word, generous in deed. Mrs. Luttrell was a woman
+of peculiarly cold manners; but she was capable, as many members of her
+household knew, of violent fits of temper and also of implacable
+resentment. She was not an easy woman to get on with, and if her husband
+had not been a man of very sweet and pliable nature, he might not have
+lived with her on such peaceful terms as was generally the case. She had
+inherited a great Scotch estate from her father, and Edward Luttrell was
+almost entirely dependent upon her; but it was not a dependence which
+seemed to gall him in the very least. Perhaps he would have been
+unreasonable if it had done so; for his wife, in spite of all her
+faults, was tenderly attached to him, and never loved him better than
+when he asserted his authority over her and her possessions.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell had not been at their pretty white villa for more
+than two months when a second son was born to them. He was baptized
+almost immediately by an English clergyman then passing through the
+place, and received the name of Brian. He was a delicate-looking baby,
+but seemed likely to live and do well. Mrs. Luttrell's recovery was
+unusually rapid; the soft Italian air suited her constitution, and she
+declared her intention of nursing the child herself.
+
+Edward Luttrell was in high spirits. He had been decidedly nervous
+before the event took place, but now that it was safely over he was like
+a boy in his joyous sense of security. He romped with his little son, he
+talked _patois_ with the inhabitants of the neighbouring village of San
+Stefano, he gossiped with the monks of the Benedictine foundation, whose
+settlement occupied a delightful site on the hillside, and no
+premonition of coming evil disturbed his heart. He thought himself the
+most fortunate of men. He adored his wife; he worshipped the baby. His
+whole heart was bound up in his handsome little Dick, who, at five years
+old, was as nearly the image of his father as a child could be. What had
+he left to wish for?
+
+There had been a good deal of fever at San Stefano throughout the
+summer. When the little Brian was barely six weeks old, it became only
+too evident that Mrs. Luttrell was sickening of some illness--probably
+the same fever that had caused so much mortality in the village. The
+baby was hastily taken away from her, and a nurse provided. This nurse
+was a healthy young woman with very thick, black eyebrows and a bright
+colour; handsome, perhaps, but not prepossessing. She was the wife of a
+gardener employed at the villa, and had been recommended by one of the
+Fathers at the monastery--a certain Padre Cristoforo, who seemed to know
+the history of every man, woman and child in San Stefano. She was the
+mother of twins, but this was a fact which the Luttrells did not know.
+
+This woman, Vincenza Vasari by name, was at first domiciled in the villa
+itself with her charge; but as more dangerous symptoms declared
+themselves in Mrs. Luttrell's case, it was thought better that she
+should take the baby to her own home, which was a fairly clean and
+respectable cottage close to the gates of the villa. Here Mr. Luttrell
+could visit the child from time to time; but as his wife's illness
+became more serious he saw less and less of the baby, and left it more
+than ever to Vincenza's care.
+
+Vincenza's own children were with their grandmother at a hamlet three
+miles from San Stefano. The grandmother, generally known as old Assunta,
+used to bring one or another of them sometimes to see Vincenza. Perhaps
+they took the infection of fever in the course of these visits; at any
+rate one of them was soon reported to be seriously ill, and Vincenza was
+cautioned against taking the Luttrells' baby into the village. It was
+the little Lippo Vasari who was ill; his twin-brother Dino was reported
+perfectly well.
+
+Some days afterwards Mr. Luttrell, on calling at the cottage as usual,
+noticed that Vincenza's eyes were red, and her manner odd and abrupt.
+Old Assunta was there, with the baby upon her knee. Mr. Luttrell asked
+what was the matter. Vincenza turned away and burst into tears.
+
+"She has lost her baby, signor," the old woman explained. "The little
+one died last night at the village, and Vincenza could not see it. The
+doctor will tell you about it all," she said, nodding significantly, and
+lowering her voice. "He knows."
+
+Mr. Luttrell questioned the doctor, and received his assurance that
+Vincenza's child (one of the twins) had been kept strictly apart from
+the little Brian Luttrell; and that there could be no danger of
+infection. In which assurance the doctor was perfectly sincere, not
+knowing that Vincenza's habit had been to spend a portion of almost
+every evening at her mother's house, in order to see her own children,
+to whom, however, she did not seem to be passionately attached.
+
+It is to be noted that the Luttrells still learned nothing of the
+existence of the other baby; they fancied that all Vincenza's children
+were dead. Vincenza had thought that the English lady would be
+prejudiced against her if she knew that she was the mother of twins, and
+had left them both to old Assunta's care; so, even when Lippo was laid
+to rest in the churchyard at San Stefano, the little Dino was carefully
+kept in the background and not suffered to appear. Neither Mr. Luttrell
+nor Mrs. Luttrell (until long afterwards) knew that Vincenza had another
+child.
+
+Two months passed before Mrs. Luttrell was sufficiently restored to
+health to be able to see her children. The day came at last when little
+Richard was summoned to her room to kiss a pale woman with great, dark
+eyes, at whom he gazed solemnly, wonderingly, but with a profound
+conviction that his own mamma had gone away and left her place to be
+filled up by somebody else. In point of fact, Mrs. Luttrell's expression
+was curiously changed; and the boy's instinct discovered the change at
+once. There was a restless, wandering look in her large, dark eyes which
+had never been visible in them before her illness, except in moments of
+strong excitement. She did not look like herself.
+
+"I want the baby," she said, when she had kissed little Richard and
+talked to him for a few moments. "Where is my baby?"
+
+Mr. Luttrell came up to her side and answered her.
+
+"The baby is coming, Margaret; Vincenza is bringing him." Then, after a
+pause--"Baby has been ill," he said. "You must be prepared to see a
+great change in him."
+
+She looked at him as if she did not understand.
+
+"What change shall I see?" she said. "Tell Vincenza to make haste,
+Edward. I must see my baby at once; the doctor said I might see him
+to-day."
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Margaret; I'll fetch them," said Mr. Luttrell,
+easily. "Come along, Dick; let us find Vincenza and little brother
+Brian."
+
+He quitted the room, with Dick at his heels. Mrs. Luttrell was left
+alone. But she had not long to wait. Vincenza entered, made a low
+reverence, uttered two or three sentences of congratulation on the
+English signora's recovery, and then placed the baby on Mrs. Luttrell's
+lap.
+
+What happened next nobody ever precisely knew. But in another moment
+Vincenza fled from the room, with her hands to her ears, and her face as
+white as death.
+
+"The signora is mad--mad!" she gasped, as she met Mr. Luttrell in the
+corridor. "She does not know her own child! She says that she will kill
+it! I dare not go to her; she says that her baby is dead, and that that
+one is mine! Mine! mine! Oh, Holy Virgin in Heaven! she says that the
+child is mine!"
+
+Wherewith Vincenza went into strong hysterics, and Mr. Luttrell strode
+hastily towards his wife's room, from which the cries of a child could
+be heard. He found Mrs. Luttrell sitting with the baby on her knee, but
+although the poor little thing was screaming with all its might, she
+vouchsafed it no attention.
+
+"Tell Vincenza to take her wretched child away," she said. "I want my
+own. This is her child; not mine."
+
+Edward Luttrell stood aghast.
+
+"Margaret, what do you mean?" he ejaculated. "Vincenza's child is dead.
+This is our little Brian. You are dreaming."
+
+He did not know whether she understood him or not, but a wild light
+suddenly flashed into her great, dark eyes. She dashed the child down
+upon the bed with the fury of a mad woman.
+
+"You are deceiving me," she cried; "I know that my child is dead. Tell
+me the truth; my child is dead!"
+
+"No such, thing, Margaret," cried Mr. Luttrell, almost angrily; "how can
+you utter such folly?"
+
+But his remonstrance passed unheeded. Mrs. Luttrell had, sunk insensible
+to the floor; and her swoon was followed by a long and serious relapse,
+during which it seemed very unlikely that she would ever awake again to
+consciousness.
+
+The crisis approached. She passed it safely and recovered. Then came the
+tug of war. The little Brian was brought back to the house, with
+Vincenza as his nurse; but Mrs. Luttrell refused to see him. Doctors
+declared her dislike of the child to be a form of mania; her husband
+certainly believed it to be so. But the one fact remained. She would not
+acknowledge the child to be her own, and she would not consent to its
+being brought up as Edward Luttrell's son. Nothing would convince her
+that her own baby still lived, or that this child was not the offspring
+of the Vasari household. Mr. Luttrell expostulated. Vincenza protested
+and shed floods of tears, the doctor, the monks, the English nurse were
+all employed by turn, in the endeavour to soften her heart; but every
+effort was useless. Mrs. Luttrell declared that the baby which Vincenza
+had brought her was not her child, and that she should live and die in
+this conviction.
+
+Was she mad? Or was some wonderful instinct of mother's love at the
+bottom of this obstinate adherence to her opinion?
+
+Mr. Luttrell honestly thought that she was mad. And then, mild man as he
+was, he rose up and claimed his right as her husband to do as he thought
+fit. He sent for his solicitor, a Mr. Colquhoun, through whom he went so
+far even as to threaten his wife with severe measures if she did not
+yield. He would not live with her, he said--or Mr. Colquhoun reported
+that he said--unless she chose to bury her foolish fancy in oblivion.
+There was no doubt in his mind that the child was Brian Luttrell, not
+Lippo Vasari, whose name was recorded on a rough wooden cross in the
+churchyard of San Stefano. And he insisted upon it that his wife should
+receive the child as her own.
+
+It was a long fight, but in the end Mrs. Luttrell had to yield. She
+dismissed Vincenza, and she returned to Scotland with the two children.
+Her husband exacted from her a promise that she would never again speak
+of the wild suspicion that had entered her mind; that under no
+circumstances would she ever let the poor little boy know of the painful
+doubt that had been thrown on his identity. Mrs. Luttrell promised, and
+for three-and-twenty years she kept her word. Perhaps she would not have
+broken it then but for a certain great trouble which fell upon her, and
+which caused a temporary revival of the strange madness which had led
+her to hate the child placed in her arms at San Stefano.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that Edward Luttrell made a favourite of
+his second son in after life. A sense of the injustice done him by his
+mother made the father especially tender to the little Brian; he walked
+with him, talked with him, made a companion of him in every possible
+way. Mrs. Luttrell regained by degrees the cold composure of manner that
+had distinguished her in earlier life: but she could not command herself
+so far as to make a show of affection for her younger son. Brian was a
+very small boy indeed when he found that out. "Mother doesn't love me,"
+he said once to his father, with grieving lips and tear-filled eyes; "I
+wonder why." What could his father do but press him passionately to his
+broad breast and assure him in words of tenderest affection that he
+loved his boy; and that if Brian were good, and true, and brave, his
+mother would love him too! "I will be very good then," said Brian,
+nestling close up to his father's shoulder--for he was a child with
+exceedingly winning ways and a very affectionate disposition--and
+putting one arm round Mr. Luttrell's neck. "But you know she loves
+Richard always--even when he is naughty. And you love me when I'm
+naughty, too." What could Mr. Luttrell say to that?
+
+He died when Brian was fifteen years old; and the last words upon his
+tongue were an entreaty that his wife would never tell the boy of the
+suspicion that had turned her love to him into bitterness. He died, and
+part of the sting of his death to Mrs. Luttrell lay in the fact that he
+died thinking her mad on that one point. The doctors had called her
+conviction "a case of mania," and he had implicitly believed them.
+
+But suppose she had not been mad all the time!
+
+
+II.
+
+In San Stefano life went on tranquilly from month to month and year to
+year. In 1867, Padre Cristoforo of the Benedictine Monastery, looked
+scarcely older than when he picked out a nurse for the Luttrell family
+in 1854. He was a tall man, with a stooping gait and a prominent,
+sagacious chin; deep-set, meditative, dark eyes, and a somewhat fine and
+subtle sort of smile which flickered for a moment at the corner of his
+thin-lipped mouth, and disappeared before you were fully conscience of
+its presence. He was summoned one day from the monastery (where he now
+filled the office of sub-Prior) at the earnest request of an old woman
+who lived in a neighbouring village. She had known him many years
+before, and thought that it would be easier to tell her story to him
+than to a complete stranger. He had received her communication, and
+stood by her pallet with evident concern and astonishment depicted upon
+his face. He held a paper in his hand, at which he glanced from time to
+time as the woman spoke.
+
+"It was not my doing," moaned the old crone. "It was my daughter's. I
+have but told you what she said to me five years ago. She said that she
+did change the children; it was Lippo, indeed, who died, but the child
+whom the English lady took to England with her was Vincenza's little
+Dino; and the boy whom we know as Dino is really the English child. I
+know not whether it is true! Santa Vergine! what more can I say?"
+
+"Why did you not reveal the facts five years ago?" said the Father, with
+some severity of tone.
+
+"I will tell you, Reverend Father. Because Vincenza came to me next day
+and said that she had lied--that the child, Dino, was her own, after
+all, and that she had only wanted to see how much I would believe. What
+was I to do? I do not know which story to believe; that is why I tell
+both stories to you before I die."
+
+"She denied it, then, next day?"
+
+"Yes, Father; but her husband believed it, as you will see by that
+paper. He wrote it down--he could write and read a little, which I could
+never do; and he told me what he had written:--'I, Giovanni Vasari, have
+heard my wife, Vincenza, say that she stole an English gentleman's
+child, and put her own child in its place. I do not know whether this is
+true; but I leave my written word that I was innocent of any such crime,
+and humbly pray to Heaven that she may be forgiven if she committed it.'
+Is that right, Reverend Father? And then his name, and the day and the
+year."
+
+"Quite right," said Padre Cristoforo. "It was written just before
+Giovanni died. The matter cannot possibly be proved without further
+testimony. Where is Vincenza?"'
+
+"Alas, Father, I do not know. Dead, I think, or she would have come back
+to me before now. I have not heard of her since she took a situation as
+maid to a lady in Turin four years ago."
+
+"Why have you told me so useless a story at all, then?" said the father,
+again with some sternness of voice and manner. "Evidently Vincenza was
+fond of romancing; and, probably--probably----" He did not finish his
+sentence; but he was thinking--"Probably the mad fancy of that English
+lady about her child--which I well remember--suggested the story to
+Vincenza as a means of getting money. I wish I had her here."
+
+"I have told you the story, Reverend Father," said the old woman, whose
+voice was growing very weak, "because I know that I am dying, and that
+the boy will be left alone in the world, which is a sad fate for any
+boy, Father, whether he is Vincenza's child or the son of the English
+lady. He is a good lad, Reverend Father, strong, and obedient, and
+patient; if the good Fathers would but take charge of him, and see that
+he is taught a trade, or put to some useful work! He would be no burden
+to you, my poor, little Dino!"
+
+For a moment the Benedictine's eyes flashed with a quick fire; then he
+looked down and stood perfectly still, with his hands folded and his
+head bent. A new idea had darted across his mind. Did the story that he
+had just heard offer him no opportunity of advancing the interests of
+his Order and of his Church?
+
+He turned as if to ask another question, but he was too late. Old
+Assunta was fast falling into the stupor that is but the precursor of
+death. He called her attendant, and waited for a time to see whether
+consciousness was likely to return. But he waited in vain. Assunta said
+nothing more.
+
+The boy of whom she had spoken came and wept at her bed-side, and Padre
+Cristoforo observed him curiously. He was well worthy of the monk's
+gaze. He was light and supple in figure, perfectly formed, with a clear
+brown skin and a face such as one sees in early Italian paintings of
+angelic singing-boys--a face with broad, serious brows, soft, oval
+cheeks, curved lips, and delightfully dimpled chin. He had large, brown
+eyes and a mass of tangled, curling hair. The priest noted that his
+slender limbs were graceful as those of a young fawn, that his hands and
+feet were small and well shaped, and that his appearance betokened
+perfect health--a slight spareness and sharpness of outline being the
+only trace which poverty seemed to have left upon him.
+
+The sub-Prior of San Stefano saw these things; and meditated upon
+certain possibilities in the future. He went next day to old Assunta's
+funeral, and laid his hand on Dino's shoulder as the boy was turning
+disconsolately from his grandmother's grave.
+
+"My child," he said, gently, "you are alone."
+
+"Yes, Father," said Dino, with a stifled sob.
+
+"Will you come with me to the monastery? I think we can find you a home.
+You have nowhere to go, poor child, and you will be weary and hungry
+before long. Will you come?"
+
+"There is nothing in the world that I should like so well!" cried the
+boy, ardently.
+
+"Come then," said the Padre, with one of his subtle smiles. "We will go
+together."
+
+He held out his hand, in which Dino gladly laid his hot and trembling
+fingers. Then the monk and the boy set out on the three miles walk which
+lay between them and the monastery.
+
+On their arrival, Padre Cristoforo left the boy in the cool cloisters
+whilst he sought the Prior--a dignitary whose permission would be needed
+before Dino would be allowed to stay. There was a school in connection
+with the monastery, but it was devoted chiefly to the training of young
+priests, and it was not probable that a peasant like Dino Vasari would
+be admitted to the ranks of these budding ecclesiastics. The Prior
+thought that old Assunta's grandchild would make a good helper for
+Giacomo, the dresser of the vines.
+
+"Does that not satisfy you?" said Padre Cristoforo, in a rather peculiar
+tone, when he had carried this proposal to Dino, and seen the boy's face
+suddenly fall, and his eyes fill with tears.
+
+"The Reverend Fathers are very good," said Dino, in a somewhat
+embarrassed fashion, "and I will do all that I can to serve them, and,
+if I could also learn to read and write--and listen to the music in the
+chapel sometimes--I would work for them all the days of my life."
+
+Padre Cristoforo smiled.
+
+"You shall have your wish, my child," he said, kindly. "You shall go to
+the school--not to the vine-dressers. You shall be our son now."
+
+But Dino looked up at him timidly.
+
+"And not the English lady's?" he said.
+
+"What do you know about an English lady, my son?"
+
+"My grandmother talked to me of her. Is it true? She said that I might,
+turn out to be an Englishman, after all. She said that Vincenza told her
+that I did not belong to her."
+
+"My child," said the monk, calmly but firmly, "put these thoughts away
+from your mind. They are idle and vain imaginations. Assunta knew
+nothing; Vincenza did not always speak the truth. In any case, it is
+impossible to prove the truth of her story. It is a sin to let your mind
+dwell on the impossible. Your name is Bernardino Vasari, and you are to
+be brought up in the monastery of San Stefano by wise and pious men. Is
+that not happiness enough for you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, indeed; I wish for nothing else," said Dino, throwing
+himself at Padre Cristoforo's feet, and pressing his lips to the monk's
+black gown, while the tears poured down his smooth, olive cheeks.
+"Indeed I am not ungrateful, Reverend Father, and I will never wish to
+be anything but what you want me to be."
+
+"Better so," soliloquised the Father, when he had comforted Dino with
+kind words, and led him away to join the companions that would
+henceforth be his; "better that he should not wish to rise above the
+station in which he has been brought up! We shall never prove Vincenza's
+story. If we could do that, we should be abundantly recompensed for
+training this lad in the doctrines of the Church--but it will never be.
+Unless, indeed, the woman Vincenza could be found and urged to
+confession. But that," said the monk, with a regretful sigh, "that is
+not likely to occur. And, therefore, the boy will be Dino Vasari, as far
+as I can see, to his life's end. And Vincenza's child is living in the
+midst of a rich English family under the name of Brian Luttrell. I must
+not forget the name. In days to come who knows whether the positions of
+these two boys may not be reversed?"
+
+Thus mused Father Cristoforo, and then he smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Vincenza was always a liar," he said to himself. "It is the most
+unlikely thing in the world that her story should be true."
+
+END OF THE PROLOGUE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+BY THE LOCH.
+
+
+"It is you who have been the thief, then?"
+
+The question was uttered in tones of withering contempt. The criminal,
+standing before his judge with downcast face and nervously-twitching
+fingers, found not a word to reply.
+
+"Answer me," said Richard Luttrell, imperatively. "Tell me the
+truth--or, by Heaven, I'll thrash you within an inch of your life, and
+make you speak! Did you, or did you not, take this money out of my
+strong-box?"
+
+"I meant to put it back," faltered the culprit. He was a slender lad of
+twenty, with the olive skin, the curling jet-black hair, the
+liquid-brown eyes, which marked his descent from a southern race. The
+face was one of singular beauty. The curved lips, the broad brow on
+which the dusky hair grew low, the oval cheek and rounded chin might
+well have served for the impersonation of some Spanish beggar-boy or
+Neapolitan fisher-lad. They were of the subtilely sensuous type,
+expressive of passion rather than of intellect or will. At present, with
+the usual rich, ripe colour vanished from cheek and lips, with eyes
+downcast, and trembling hands dropped to his sides, he was a picture of
+embodied shame and fear which his cousin and guardian, Richard Luttrell,
+regarded with unmitigated disgust.
+
+Luttrell himself was a man of very different fibre. Tall, strong,
+fiercely indignant, he towered over the youth as if he could willingly
+have smitten him to the earth. He was a fine-looking, broad-shouldered
+man of twenty-eight, with strongly-marked features, browned by exposure
+to the sun and wind. The lower part of his face was almost hidden by a
+crisp chestnut beard and moustache, whilst his eyes were of the reddish
+hazel tint which often denotes heat of temper. The fire which now shot
+from beneath the severely knitted brows might indeed have dismayed a
+person of stouter heart than Hugo Luttrell. The youth showed no signs of
+penitence; he was thoroughly dismayed and alarmed by the position in
+which he found himself, but that was all.
+
+The scene of their interview was hardly in accordance with its painful
+character. The three men--for there was another whom we have not
+attempted to describe--stood on the border of a small loch, the tranquil
+waters of which came lapping almost to their feet as they spoke
+together. The grassy shores were fringed with alder and rowan-trees.
+Above the heads of the speakers waved the branches of a great Scotch
+fir, the outpost and sentinel, as it were, of an army of its brethren,
+standing discreetly a few yards away from the banks of the loch. Richard
+Luttrell's house, though not far distant, was out of sight; and the one
+little, grey-stone cottage which could be seen had no windows fronting
+the water. It was a spot, therefore, in which a prolonged conversation
+could be carried on without much fear of disturbance. Beyond the trees,
+and on each side of the loch, were ranged the silent hills; their higher
+crags purple in the sunlight, brown and violet in shadow. The tints of
+the heather were beginning to glow upon the moors; on the lower-lying
+slopes a mass of foliage showed its first autumnal colouring; here and
+there a field of yellow stubble gave a dash of almost dazzling
+brightness to the landscape, under the cloudless azure of a September
+sky. Hills, woods, and firmament were alike reflected with mirror-like
+distinctness in the smooth bosom of the loch, where little, brown ducks
+swam placidly amongst the weeds, and swallows skimmed and dipped and
+flew in happy ignorance of the ruin that guilt and misery can work in
+the lives of men.
+
+Richard Luttrell stood with his back towards the open door of a large
+wooden shed used as a boat-house, the interior of which looked densely
+black by contrast with the brilliant sunlight on the green grass and
+trees outside it. An open box or two, a heap, of fishing tackle, a
+broken oar, could be seen but dimly from without. It was in one of these
+boxes that Richard Luttrell had made, early in the day, a startling
+discovery. He had come across a pocket-book which had been abstracted
+from his strong-box in a most mysterious way about a week before. On
+opening it, he found, not only certain bank-notes which he had missed,
+but some marked coins and a cornelian seal which had disappeared on
+previous occasions, proving that a system of robbery had been carried on
+by one and the same person--evidently a member of the Luttrell
+household. The spoil was concealed with great care in a locked box on a
+shelf, and but for an accidental stumble by which Luttrell had brought
+down the whole shelf and broken the box itself, it would probably have
+remained there undisturbed. No one would ever have dreamt of seeking for
+Luttrell's pocket-book in a box in the boat-house.
+
+"How did this get here? Who keeps the second key of the boat-house?"
+demanded Richard in the first moment of his discovery.
+
+And Brian, his younger brother, answered carelessly--
+
+"Hugo has had it for the last week or two."
+
+Then, disturbed by his brother's tone, he came to Richard's side and
+looked at the fragments of the box by which Richard was still kneeling.
+With an exclamation of surprise he took up the lid of the box and
+examined it carefully. The name of its owner had been printed in ink on
+the smooth, brown surface--Hugo Luttrell. And the stolen property was
+hidden in that little wooden box.
+
+The exclamations of the two brothers were characteristic. Richard raised
+himself with the pocket-book in his hand, and said vehemently--
+
+"The young scoundrel! He shall rue it!"
+
+While Brian, looking shocked and grieved, sat down on the stump of a
+tree and muttered, "Poor lad!" between his teeth, as he contemplated the
+miserable fragments on the ground.
+
+The sound of a bell came faintly to their ears through the clear morning
+air. Richard spoke sharply.
+
+"We must leave the matter for the present. Don't say anything about it.
+Lock up the boat-house, Brian, and keep the key. We'll have Hugo down
+here after breakfast, and see whether he'll make a clean breast of it."
+
+"He may know nothing at all about it," suggested Brian, rising from his
+seat.
+
+"It is to be hoped so," said Luttrell, curtly. He walked out of the
+boat-house with frowning brows and sparkling eyes. "I know one thing--my
+roof won't shelter him any longer if he is guilty." And then he marched
+away to the house, leaving Brian to lock the door and follow at his
+ease.
+
+That morning's breakfast was long remembered in the Luttrells' house as
+a period of vague and curious discomfort. The reddish light in Richard's
+eyes was well known for a danger signal; a storm was in the air when he
+wore that expression of suppressed emotion. Brian, a good deal disturbed
+by what had occurred, scarcely spoke at all; he sat with his eyes fixed
+on the table, forgetting to eat, and glancing only from time to time at
+Hugo's young, beautiful, laughing face, as the lad talked gaily to a
+visitor, or fed the dogs--privileged inmates of the dining-room--with
+morsels from his own plate. It was impossible to think that this
+handsome boy, just entering on the world, fresh from a military college,
+with a commission in the Lancers, should have chosen to rob the very man
+who had been his benefactor and friend, whose house had sheltered him
+for the last ten years of his life. What could he have wanted with this
+money? Luttrell made him a handsome allowance, had paid his bills more
+than once, provided his outfit, put all the resources of his home at
+Hugo's disposal, as if he had been a son of the house instead of a
+penniless dependent--had, in short, behaved to him with a generosity
+which Brian might have resented had he been of a resentful disposition,
+seeing that he himself had been much less liberally treated. But Brian
+never concerned himself about that view of the matter; only now, when he
+suspected Hugo of dishonesty and ingratitude, did he run over in his
+mind a list of the benefits which the boy had received for many years
+from the master of the house, and grow indignant at the enumeration. Was
+it possible that Hugo could be guilty? He had not been truthful as a
+schoolboy, Brian remembered; once or twice he had narrowly escaped
+public disgrace for some dishonourable act--dishonourable in the eyes of
+his companions, as well as of his masters--a fact which was not to
+Hugo's credit. Perhaps, however, there was now some mistake--perhaps the
+matter might be cleared up. Appearances were against him, but Hugo might
+yet vindicate his integrity----
+
+Brian's meditations were interrupted at this point. His brother had
+risen from the breakfast-table and was addressing Hugo, with a great
+show of courtesy, but with the stern light in his eyes which always made
+those who knew him best be on their guard with Richard Luttrell. "If you
+are at liberty," he said, "I want you down at the boat-house. I am going
+there now."
+
+Brian, who was watching his cousin, saw a sudden change in his face. His
+lips turned white, his eyes moved uneasily in their sockets. It seemed
+almost as if he glanced backwards and forwards in order to look for a
+way of escape. But no escape was possible. Richard stood waiting,
+severe, inflexible, with that ominous gleam in his eyes. Hugo rose and
+followed like a dog at his master's call. From the moment that Brian
+marked his sullen, hang-dog expression and drooping head, he gave up his
+hope of proving Hugo's innocence. He would gladly have absented himself
+from the interview, but Richard summoned him in a voice that admitted of
+no delay.
+
+The lad's own face and words betrayed him when he was shown the
+pocket-book and the broken box. He stammered out excuses, prevaricated,
+lied; until at last Luttrell lost all patience, and insisted upon a
+definite reply to his question. And then Hugo muttered his last
+desperate self-justification--that he had "meant to put it back!"
+
+Richard's stalwart figure, the darkness of his brow, the strong hand in
+which he was swinging a heavy hunting-crop--caught up, as he left the
+house, for no decided purpose, but disagreeably significant in Hugo's
+eyes--became doubly terrible to the lad during the interval of silence
+that followed his avowal. He glanced supplicatingly at Brian; but Brian
+had no aid to give him now. And, when Brian's help failed him, Hugo felt
+that all was lost.
+
+Meanwhile, Brian himself, a little in the back ground, leaned against
+the trunk of a tree which grew close to the shallow water's edge, bent
+his eyes upon the ground and tried to see the boy's face as little as
+possible. His affection for Hugo had given him an influence over the lad
+which Richard had certainly never possessed. For, generous as Richard
+might be, he was not fond of his young cousin; and Hugo, being aware of
+this fact, regarded him with instinctive aversion. In his own fashion he
+did love Brian--a little bit!
+
+Brian Luttrell was at this time barely three-and-twenty. He had rooms in
+London, where he was supposed to be reading for the bar, but his tastes
+were musical and literary, and he had not yet made much progress in his
+legal studies. He had a handsome, intellectual face of a very refined
+type, thoughtful dark eyes, a long, brown moustache, and small pointed
+beard of the same colour. He was slighter, less muscular, than Richard;
+and the comment often made upon him was that he had the look of a
+dreamer, perhaps of an artist--not of a very practical man--and that he
+was extremely unlike his brother. There was, indeed, a touch of unusual
+and almost morbid sensitiveness in Brian's nature, which, betraying
+itself, as it did, from time to time, only by a look, a word, a gesture,
+yet proved his unlikeness to Richard Luttrell more than any
+dissimilarity of feature could have done.
+
+"You meant to put it back, sir!" thundered Richard, after that moment's
+pause, which seemed like an eternity to Hugo. "And where did you mean to
+get the money from? Steal it from some one else? Folly! lies! And for
+what disgraceful reason did you take it at all? You are in debt, I
+presume?"
+
+Hugo's white lips signified assent.
+
+"You have been gambling again?"
+
+He bowed his head.
+
+"I thought so. I told you three months ago that I had paid your gambling
+debts for the last time. I make one exception. I will pay them once
+again--with the money you have stolen, which you may keep. Much good may
+it do you!" He flung the pocket-book on the turf at Hugo's feet as he
+spoke. "Take it. You have paid dearly enough for it, God knows. For the
+future, sir, manage your own affairs; my house is no longer open to
+you."
+
+"Don't be hard on him, Richard," said Brian, in a voice too low to reach
+Hugo's ears. "Forgive him this time; he is only a boy, after all--and a
+boy with a bad training."
+
+"Will you be so good as to mind your own business, Brian?" said the
+elder brother, peremptorily. The severity of his tone increased as he
+addressed himself again to Hugo. "You will leave Netherglen to-day. Your
+luggage can be sent after you; give your own directions about it. I
+suppose you will rejoin your regiment? I neither know nor care what you
+mean to do. If we meet again, we meet as strangers."
+
+"Willingly," said Hugo, lifting his eyes for one instant to his cousin's
+face, with an expression so full of brooding hatred and defiance that
+even Richard Luttrell was amazed.
+
+"For Heaven's sake don't say that, Hugo," began the second brother, with
+a hasty desire to pave the way for reconciliation.
+
+"Why not?" said Hugo.
+
+The look of abject fear was dying out of his face. The worst, he
+thought, was over. He drew himself up, crossed his arms, and tried to
+meet Brian's reproachful eyes with confidence, but in this attempt he
+was not successful. In spite of himself, the eyelids dropped until the
+long, black lashes almost touched the smooth, olive cheek, across which
+passed a transient flush of shame. This sign of feeling touched Brian;
+the lad was surely not hopelessly bad if he could blush for his sins.
+But Richard went on ruthlessly.
+
+"You need expect no further help from me. I own you as a relation no
+longer. You have disgraced the name you bear. Don't let me see you again
+in my house." He was too indignant, too much excited, to speak in
+anything but short, sharp sentences, each of which seemed more bitter
+than the last. Richard Luttrell was little concerned for Hugo's welfare,
+much for the honour of the family. "Go," he said, "at once, and I will
+not publish your shameful conduct to the world. If you return to my
+house, if you seek to establish any communication with members of my
+family, I shall not keep your secret."
+
+"Speak for yourself, Richard," said his brother, warmly, "not for me. I
+hope that Hugo will do better in time; and I don't mean to give him up.
+You must make an exception for me when you speak of separating him from
+the family."
+
+"I make no exception," said Richard.
+
+Brian drew nearer to his brother, and uttered his next words in a lower
+tone.
+
+"Think what you are doing," he said. "You will drive him to desperation,
+and, after all, he is only a boy of nineteen. Quite young enough to
+repent and reform, if we are not too hard upon him now. Do as you think
+fit for yourself and your own household, but you must not stand in the
+way of what I can do for him, little though that may be."
+
+"I stand to what I have said," answered Richard, harshly. "I will have
+no communication between him and you." Then, folding his arms, he looked
+grimly and sardonically into Brian's face. "I trust neither of you," he
+said. "We all know that you are only too easily led by those whom you
+like to be led by, and he is a young reprobate. Choose for yourself, of
+course; I have no claim to control you, only, if you choose to be
+friendly with him, I shall cut off the supplies to you as well as to
+him, and I shall expose him publicly."
+
+Brian took away the hand which, in the ardour of his pleading, he had
+laid upon Richard's arm. Had it not been for Hugo's sake, he would have
+quitted the spot in dudgeon. He knew in his heart that it was useless to
+argue with Richard in his present state of passion. But for Hugo's sake
+he swallowed his resentment, and made one more trial.
+
+"If he repents----" he began doubtfully, and never finished the
+sentence.
+
+"I don't repent," said Hugo.
+
+His voice was hoarse and broken, but insolently defiant. By a great
+effort of will he fixed his haggard eyes full on Richard Luttrell's face
+as he spoke. Richard shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You hear?" he said, briefly to his brother.
+
+"I hear," Brian answered, in a low, pained tone.
+
+With an air of bravado Hugo stooped and picked up the pocket-book which
+still lay at his feet. He weighed it in his hand, and then laughed
+aloud, though not very steadily.
+
+"It is full still," he said. "It will be useful, no doubt. I am much
+obliged to you, Cousin Richard."
+
+The action, and the words accompanying it, shocked even Richard, who
+professed to think nothing too bad for Hugo's powers. He tossed his head
+back and turned away with a contemptuous "Good Heavens!" Brian walked
+for a few paces distance, and then stood still, with his back to his
+cousin. Hugo glanced from one to the other with uneasiness, which he
+tried to veil by an assumption of disdain, and dropped the purse
+furtively into his pocket. He was ill-pleased to see Richard turn back
+with lowered eyebrows, and a look of stern determination upon his
+bearded face.
+
+"Brian," said Luttrell, more quietly than he had yet spoken, "I think I
+see mother coming down the road. Will you meet her and lead her away
+from the loch, without telling her the reason? I don't wish her to meet
+this--this gentleman--again."
+
+The intonation of his voice, the look that he bestowed upon Hugo at the
+words that he emphasised, made the lad quiver from head to foot with
+rage. Brian walked away without turning to bestow another glance or word
+on Hugo. It was a significant action, and one which the young fellow
+felt, with a throb of mingled shame and hatred, that he could
+understand. He clenched his hands until the dent of the nails brought
+blood, without knowing what he did; then made a step or two in another
+direction, as if to leave the place. Richard's commanding voice made him
+pause.
+
+"Stop!" said Luttrell. "Wait until I give you leave to go."
+
+Hugo waited, with his face turned towards the shining waters of the
+loch. The purple mist amongst the distant hills, the golden light upon
+the rippling water, the reddening foliage of the trees, had never been
+more beautiful than they were that morning. But their beauty was lost
+upon Hugo, whose mind was filled with hard and angry protests against
+the treatment that he was receiving, and a great dread of the somewhat
+desolate future.
+
+Richard Luttrell moved about restlessly, stopping short, now and then,
+to watch the figure in black which he had discerned upon the road near
+the house. He saw Brian meet it; the two stood and spoke together for a
+few minutes; then Brian gave his arm to his mother and led her back to
+the house. When they were quite out of sight, Luttrell turned back to
+his cousin and spoke again.
+
+"Now that I have got Brian out of the way," he said, as he laid an iron
+hand on Hugo's arm, "I am free to punish you as I choose. Mind, I would
+have spared you this if you had not had the insufferable insolence to
+pick up that pocket-book in my presence. Since you were shameless enough
+for that, it is plain what sort of chastisement you deserve. Take
+that--and that--and that!"
+
+He lifted his hunting-crop as he spoke, and brought it down heavily on
+the lad's shoulders. Hugo uttered a cry like that of a wild animal in
+pain, and fought with hands, feet, teeth even, against the infliction of
+the stinging blows; but he fought in vain. His cousin's superior
+strength mastered him from the beginning; he felt like an infant in
+Richard's powerful grasp. Not until the storm of furious imprecations in
+which the lad at first vented his impotent rage had died away into
+stifled moans and sobs of pain, did Richard's vengeance come to an end.
+He flung the boy from him, broke the whip between his strong hands, and
+hurled the fragments far into the water, then walked away to the house,
+leaving Hugo to sob his heart out, like a passionate child, with face
+down in the short, green grass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HUGO LUTTRELL.
+
+
+Hugo's Sicilian mother had transmitted to him a nature at once fierce
+and affectionate, passionate and cunning. Half-child, half-savage, he
+seemed to be bound by none of the restraints that civilised men early
+learn to place upon their instincts. He expressed his anger, his sorrow,
+his love, with all the abandon that characterised the natives of those
+sunny shores where the first years of his life were spent. Profoundly
+simple in his modes of feeling, he was yet dominated by the habits of
+slyness and trickery which seem to be inherent in the truly savage
+breast. He had the savage's love of secrecy and instinctive suspicion of
+his fellow-creatures, the savage's swift passions and vindictiveness,
+the savage's innate difficulty in comprehending the laws of honour and
+morality. It is possible to believe that, with good training from his
+infancy, Hugo Luttrell might have developed into a trustworthy and
+straightforward man, shrinking from dishonesty and cowardice as infamy
+worse than death; but his early education had been of a kind likely to
+foster every vice that he possessed. His father, a cousin of the
+Luttrells of Netherglen, after marrying a lovely Palermitan, and living
+for three years with her in her native land, had at last tired of her
+transports of love and jealousy, and started upon an exploring
+expedition in South Africa. Hugo was brought up by a mother who adored
+him and taught him to loathe the English race. He was surrounded by
+flatterers and sycophants from his babyhood, and treated as if he were
+born to a kingdom. When he was twelve years old, however, his mother
+died; and his father, on learning her death some months afterwards, made
+it his business to fetch the boy away from Sicily and bring him to
+England. But Hugh Luttrell, the father, was already a dying man. The
+seeds of disease had been developed during his many journeyings; he was
+far gone in consumption before he even reached the English shores. His
+own money was nearly spent. There was a law-suit about the estates
+belonging to his wife's father, and it was scarcely probable that they
+would devolve upon Hugo, who had cousins older than himself and dearer
+to the Sicilian grandfather's heart. The dying man turned in his
+extremity to the young head of the house, Richard Luttrell, then only
+twenty-one years of age, and did not turn in vain. Richard Luttrell
+undertook the charge of the boy, and as soon as the father was laid in
+the grave, he took Hugo home with him to Netherglen.
+
+Richard Luttrell could hardly have treated Hugo more generously than he
+did, but it must be confessed that he never liked the boy. The faults
+which were evident from the first day of his entrance into the
+Luttrells' home, were such as disgusted and repelled the somewhat
+austere young ruler of the household. Hugo pilfered, lied, cringed,
+stormed, in turn, like a veritable savage. He was sent to school, and
+learned the wisdom of keeping his tongue silent, and his evil deeds
+concealed, but he did not learn to amend his ways. In spite of his
+frequent misconduct, he had some qualities which endeared him to the
+hearts of those whom he cared to conciliate. His _naïvete_, his
+caressing ways, his beautiful, delicate face and appealing eyes, were
+not without effect even upon the severest of his judges. Owing, perhaps,
+to these attributes rather than to any positive merit of his own, he
+scrambled through life at school, at a tutor's, at a military college,
+without any irreparable disgrace, his aptitude for getting into scrapes
+being equalled only by his cleverness in getting out of them. Richard,
+indeed, had at times received reports of his conduct which made him
+speak angrily and threaten condign punishment, but not until this day,
+when the discovery of the lost bank-notes in Hugo's possession betokened
+an absence of principle transcending even Richard's darkest
+anticipations, had any serious breach occurred between the cousins. With
+some men, the fact that it was the first grave offence would have had
+weight, and inclined them to be merciful to the offender, but Richard
+Luttrell was not a merciful man. When he discovered wrong-doing, he
+punished it with the utmost severity, and never trusted the culprit
+again. He had been known to say, in boasting accents, that he did not
+understand what forgiveness meant. Forgiveness of injuries? Weakness of
+mind: that was his opinion.
+
+Hugo Luttrell's nature was also not a forgiving one. He lay upon the
+grass, writhing, sobbing, tearing at the ground in an access of passion
+equally composed of rage and shame. He had almost lost the remembrance
+of his own offence in resentment of its punishment. He had been struck;
+he had been insulted; he, a Sicilian gentleman! (Hugo never thought of
+himself as an Englishman.) He loathed Richard Luttrell; he muttered
+curses upon him as he lay on the earth, with every bone aching from his
+cousin's blows; he wished that he could wipe out the memory of the
+affront in Richard's blood. Richard would laugh at a challenge; a duel
+was not the English method of settling quarrels. "I will punish him in
+another way; it is a _vendetta_!" said Hugo to himself, choking down his
+passionate, childish sobs. "He is a brute--a great, savage brute; he
+does not deserve to live!"
+
+He was too much absorbed in his reflections to notice a footstep on the
+grass beside him, and the rustle of a woman's dress. Some one had drawn
+near, and was looking pityingly, wonderingly, down upon the slight,
+boyish form that still shook and quivered with irrepressible emotion. A
+woman's voice sounded in his ear. "Hugo!" it said; "Hugo, what is the
+matter?"
+
+With a start he lifted his head, showed a flushed, tear-swollen
+countenance for one moment, and then hid it once more in his hands. "Oh,
+Angela, Angela!" he cried; and then the hysterical passion mastered him
+once more. He could not speak for sobs.
+
+She knelt down beside him and placed one hand soothingly upon his
+ruffled, black locks. For a few minutes she also did not speak. She knew
+that he could not hear.
+
+The world was not wrong when it called Angela Vivian a beautiful woman,
+although superfine critics objected that her features were not perfect,
+and that her hair, her eyes, her complexion, were all too colourless for
+beauty. But her great charm lay in the harmonious character of her
+appearance. To deepen the tint of that soft, pale hair--almost
+ash-coloured, with a touch of gold in the heavy coils--to redden her
+beautifully-shaped mouth, and her narrow, oval face, to imagine those
+sweet, calm, grey eyes of any more definite shade would have been to
+make her no longer the Angela Vivian that so many people knew and loved.
+But if fault were found with her face, no exception could be taken to
+her figure and the grace with which she moved. There, at least, she was
+perfect.
+
+Angela Vivian was twenty-three, and still unmarried. It was said that
+she had been difficult to please. But her choice was made at last. She
+was to be married to Richard Luttrell before the end of the year. They
+had been playmates in childhood, and their parents had been old friends.
+Angela was now visiting Mrs. Luttrell, who was proud of her son's
+choice, and made much of her as a guest at Netherglen.
+
+She spoke to Hugo as a sister might have done.
+
+"What is it, dear?" she asked him, smoothing out his short, dark curls,
+as she spoke. "Can't you tell me? Is it some great trouble?"
+
+For answer he dragged himself a little closer to her, and bowed his hot
+forehead on one of her hands, which she was resting on the ground, while
+she stroked his hair with the other. The action touched her; she did not
+know why. His sobs were quietening. He was by no means very manly, as
+English people understand manliness, but even he was ashamed to be found
+crying like a baby over his woes.
+
+"Dear Hugo, can you not tell me what is wrong?" said Angela, more
+seriously alarmed by his silence than by his tears. She had a right to
+question him, for he had previously given her as much of his confidence
+as he ever gave to anybody, and she had been a very good friend to him.
+"Are you in some great trouble?"
+
+"Yes," he said, in a voice so choked that she could hardly hear the
+word.
+
+"And you have been in some scuffle surely. Your clothes are torn--you
+are hurt!" said she, sympathetically. "Why, Hugo, you must have been
+fighting!" Then, as he gave her no answer, she resumed in a voice of
+tender concern, "You are not really hurt, are you, dear boy? You can
+move--you can get up? Shall I fetch anyone to help you?"
+
+"No, no, no!" he cried, clutching at her dress, as though to stay her
+going. "Don't leave me. I am not hurt--at least, I can walk and stand
+easily enough, though I have been hurt--set upon, and treated like--like
+a dog by him----"
+
+"By whom, Hugo?" said Angela, startled by the tenor of his incoherent
+sentences. "Who has set upon you and ill-treated you?"
+
+But Hugo hid his face. "I won't tell you," he said, sullenly.
+
+There was a silence. "Can I do anything for you?" Angela asked at
+length, very gently.
+
+"No."
+
+She waited a little longer, and, as he made no further sign, she tried
+to rise. "Shall I go, Hugo?" she said.
+
+"Yes--if you like." Then he burst out passionately, "Of course, you will
+go. You are like everybody else. You are like Richard Luttrell. You will
+do what he tells you. I am abandoned by everybody. You all hate me; and
+I hate you all!"
+
+Little as Angela understood his words, there was something in them that
+made her seat herself beside him on the grass, instead of leaving him
+alone. "Dear Hugo," she said, "I have never hated you."
+
+"But you will soon."
+
+"I see," said she, softly. "I understand you now. You are in
+trouble--you have been doing something wrong, and you think that we
+shall be angry with you. Listen, Hugo, Richard maybe angry at first, but
+he is kind as well as just. He will forgive you, and we shall love you
+as much as ever. I will tell him that you are sorry for whatever it is,
+and then he will not refuse his pardon."
+
+"I don't want it," said Hugo, hoarsely. "I hate him."
+
+"Hugo!"
+
+"I hate him--I loathe him. You would hate him, too, if you knew him as
+well as I do. You are going to marry him! Well, you will be miserable
+all your life long, and then you will remember what I say."
+
+"I should be angry with you if I did not know how little you meant
+this," said Angela, in an unruffled voice, although the faint colour had
+risen to her cheeks, and her eyes looked feverishly bright. "But you are
+not like yourself, Hugo; you are distressed about something. You know,
+at least, that we do not hate you, and you do not hate us."
+
+"I do not hate you," said Hugo, with emphasis.
+
+He seized a fold of her dress and pressed it to his lips. But he said
+nothing more, and by-and-bye, when she gently disengaged her gown from
+his hold, he made no opposition to her going. She left him with
+reluctance, but she knew that Mrs. Luttrell would want her at that hour,
+and did not like to be kept waiting. She glanced back when she reached
+the bend in the road that would hide him from her sight. She saw that he
+had resumed his former position, with his head bent upon his arms, and
+his face hidden.
+
+"Poor Hugo!" she said to herself, as she turned towards the house.
+
+Netherglen was a quaint-looking, irregular building of grey, stone, not
+very large, but considerably larger than its appearance led one to
+conjecture, from the fact that a wing had been added at the back of the
+house, where it was not immediately apparent. The peculiarity of this
+wing was that, although built close to the house, it did not actually
+touch it except at certain points where communication with the main part
+was necessary; the rooms on the outer wing ran parallel for some
+distance with those in the house, but were separated by an interval of
+one or two feet. This was a precaution taken, it was said, in order to
+deaden the noise made by the children when they were in the nurseries
+situated in this part of the house. It had certainly been an effectual
+one; it was difficult to hear any sound proceeding from these rooms,
+even when one stood in the large central hall from which the
+sitting-rooms opened.
+
+Angela was anxious to find Richard and ascertain whether or not he was
+really seriously incensed against his cousin, but he was not to be
+found. A party of guests had arrived unexpectedly for luncheon; Mrs.
+Luttrell and Brian were both busily engaged in entertaining them. Angela
+glanced at Brian; it struck her that he was not in his usual good
+spirits. But she had no chance of asking him if anything were amiss.
+
+The master of the house arrived in time to take his place at the head of
+the table, and from the moment of his arrival, Angela was certain that
+he had been, if he were not still, seriously annoyed by some occurrence
+of the day. She knew his face very well, and she knew the meaning of the
+gleam of his eye underneath the lowered eyebrows, the twitching nostril,
+and the grim setting of his mouth. He spoke very little, and did not
+smile even when he glanced at her. These were ominous signs.
+
+"Where is Hugo?" demanded Mrs. Luttrell as they seated themselves at the
+table. "Have you seen him, Brian?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him down by the loch this morning," said Brian, but without
+raising his eyes.
+
+"The bell had better be rung outside the house," said Mrs. Luttrell. "It
+can be heard quite well on the loch."
+
+"It is unnecessary, mother," said Richard, promptly. "Hugo is not coming
+in to lunch."
+
+There was a momentary flash of his eye as he spoke, which convinced
+Angela that Hugo's disgrace was to be no transient one. Her heart sank;
+she did not find that Richard's wrath was easy to appease when once
+thoroughly aroused. Again she looked at Brian, and it seemed to her that
+his face was paler and more sombre than she had ever seen it before.
+
+The brothers were usually on such pleasant terms that their silence to
+each other during the meal became a matter of remark to others beside
+Angela and Mrs. Luttrell. Had they quarrelled? There was an evident
+coolness between them; for, on the only occasion on which they addressed
+each other, Richard contemptuously contradicted his brother with
+insulting directness, and Brian replied with what for him was decided
+warmth. But the matter dropped--perhaps each was ashamed of having
+manifested his annoyance in public--and only their silence to each other
+betrayed that anything was wrong.
+
+The party separated into three portions after luncheon. Mrs. Luttrell
+and a lady of her own age agreed to remain indoors, or to stroll quietly
+round the garden. Angela and two or three other young people meant to
+get out the boat and fish the loch for pike. Richard and a couple of his
+friends were going to shoot in the neighbouring woods. And, while these
+arrangements were making, and everybody was standing about the hall, or
+in the wide porch which opened out into the garden, Hugo's name was
+again mentioned.
+
+"What has become of that boy?" said Mrs. Luttrell. "He is not generally
+so late. Richard, do you know?"
+
+"I'll tell you afterwards, mother," answered her son, in a low tone.
+"Don't say anything more about him just now."
+
+"Is there anything wrong?" said his mother, also lowering her voice. But
+he had turned away.
+
+"Brian, what is it?" she asked, impatiently.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't ask Brian," said Richard, looking back over
+his shoulder, "there is no knowing what he may not require you to
+believe. Leave the story to me."
+
+"I've no desire to tell it," replied Brian, moving away.
+
+Luttrell's friends were already outside the hall door, lighting their
+cigars and playing with the dogs. A keeper stood in the background,
+waiting until the party should start.
+
+"Aren't you coming, Brian?" said one of the young men.
+
+"I'll join you presently," said Brian. "I am going down to the loch
+first to get out the boat."
+
+"What a splendid gun that is of yours!" said Archie Grant, the younger
+of the two men. "It is yours, is it not? I saw it in the corner of the
+hall as I came in. You had it the other day at the Duke's."
+
+"It was not mine. It belongs to Hugo."
+
+"Let me have a look at it again; it's an awfully fine one."
+
+"Are you ready, Grant?" said Richard Luttrell, coming forward. "What are
+you looking for?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; a gun," said the young fellow. "I see it's gone. I thought
+it was there when I first came in; it's of no consequence."
+
+"Not your own gun, I suppose?"
+
+"No, no; I have my own. It was Hugo's."
+
+"Yes; rather a fine one," said Richard, indifferently. "You're not
+coming, then?"--to Brian--"well, perhaps it's as well." And he marched
+away without deigning to bestow another look or word upon his brother.
+
+Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Luttrell and Angela encountered each other
+in a passage leading to one of the upper rooms. No one was near. Mrs.
+Luttrell--she was a tall, handsome woman, strikingly like Richard, in
+spite of her snow-white hair--laid her hand gently on Angela's shoulder.
+
+"Why do you look so pale, Angela?" she said. "Your eyes are red, child.
+Have you been crying because those ill-bred lads of mine could not keep
+a still tongue in their heads at the luncheon-table, but must needs
+wrangle together as they used to when they were just babies? Never you
+mind, my dear; it's not Richard's fault, and Brian was always a
+troublesome lad. It will be better for us all when he's away at his
+books in London."
+
+She patted Angela's shoulder and passed on, leaving the girl more vexed
+than comforted. She was sorry to see Mrs. Luttrell show the partiality
+for Richard which everyone accused her of feeling. In the mother's eyes,
+Richard was always right and Brian wrong. Angela was just enough to be
+troubled at times by this difference in the treatment of the brothers.
+
+Brian went down to the loch ostensibly to get out the boat. In reality
+he wanted to see whether Hugo was still there. Richard had told him of
+the punishment to which he had subjected the lad; and Brian had been
+frankly indignant about it. The two had come to high words; thus there
+had, indeed, been some foundation for the visitors' suspicions of a
+previous quarrel.
+
+Hugo had disappeared; only the broken brushwood and the crushed bracken
+told of the struggle that had taken place, and of the boy's agony of
+grief and rage. Brian resolved to follow and find him. He did not like
+the thought of leaving him to bear his shame alone. Besides, he
+understood Hugo's nature, and he was afraid--though he scarcely knew
+what he feared.
+
+But he searched in vain. Hugo was not to be found. He did not seem to
+have quitted the place altogether, for he had given no orders about his
+luggage, nor been seen on the road to the nearest town, and Brian knew
+that it would be almost impossible to find him in a short space of time
+if he did not wish to be discovered. It was possible that he had gone
+into the woods; he was as fond of them as a wild animal of his lair.
+Brian took his gun from the rack, as an excuse for an expedition, then
+sallied forth, scarcely hoping, however, to be successful in his search.
+
+He had not gone very far when he saw a man's form at some little
+distance from him, amongst the trees. He stopped short and
+reconnoitered. No, it was not Hugo. That brown shooting-coat and those
+stalwart limbs belonged rather to Richard Luttrell. Brian looked,
+shrugged his shoulders to himself, and then turned back. He did not want
+to meet his brother then.
+
+But Richard had heard the footstep and glanced round. After a moment of
+evident hesitation, he quitted his position and tramped over the soft,
+uneven ground to his brother, who, seeing that he had been observed,
+awaited his brother's coming with some uncertainty of feeling.
+
+Richard's face had wonderfully cleared since the morning, and his voice
+was almost cordial.
+
+"You've come? That's right," he said.
+
+"Got anything?"
+
+"Nothing much. I never saw young Grant shoot so wild. And my hand's not
+very steady--after this morning's work." He laughed a little awkwardly
+and looked away. "That fellow deserved all he got, Brian. But if you
+choose to see him now and then and be friendly with him, it's your own
+look out. I don't wish to interfere."
+
+It was a great concession from Richard--almost as much as an apology.
+Brian involuntarily put out his hand, which Richard grasped heartily if
+roughly. Neither of them found it necessary to say more. The mutual
+understanding was complete, and each hastily changed the subject, as
+though desirous that nothing farther should be said about it.
+
+If only some one had been by to witness that tacit reconciliation!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+IN THE TWILIGHT.
+
+
+It was already dusk under the thick branches of the wood, although the
+setting sun shone brilliantly upon the loch. Luttrell's friends were to
+dine with him, and as dinner was not until eight o'clock, they made
+rather a long circuit, and had some distance to return. Brian had joined
+Archie Grant; the second visitor was behind them with the keeper;
+Richard Luttrell had been accidentally separated from the others, and
+was supposed to be in front. Archie was laughing and talking gaily;
+Brian, whose mind ran much upon Hugo, was somewhat silent. But even he
+was no proof against Archie's enthusiasm, when the young fellow suddenly
+seized him by the arm, and pointed out a fine capercailzie which the
+dogs had just put up.
+
+Brian gave a quick glance to his companion, who, however, had handed his
+gun to the keeper a short time before, and shook his head deprecatingly.
+Brian lifted his gun. It seemed to him that something was moving amongst
+the branches beyond the bird, and for a moment he hesitated--then pulled
+the trigger. And just as he touched it, Archie sprang forward with a
+cry.
+
+"Don't fire! Are you blind? Don't you see what you are doing!"
+
+But it was too late.
+
+The bird flew away unharmed, but the shot seemed to have found another
+mark. There was the sound of a sudden, heavy fall. To Brian's horror and
+dismay he saw that a man had been standing amongst the brushwood and
+smaller trees just beyond the ridge of rising ground towards which his
+gun had been directed. The head only of this man could have been visible
+from the side of the bank on which Brian was standing; and even the head
+could be seen very indistinctly. As Brian fired, it seemed to him,
+curiously enough, as if another report rang in his ears beside that of
+his own gun. Was any one else shooting in the wood? Or had his senses
+played him false in the horror of the moment, and caused him to mistake
+an echo for another shot? He had not time to settle the question. For a
+moment he stood transfixed; then he rushed forward, but Archie had been
+before him. The young man was kneeling by the prostrate form and as
+Brian advanced, he looked up with a face as white as death.
+
+"Keep back," he cried, scarcely knowing what he said. "Don't look--don't
+look, for a moment; perhaps he'll open his eyes: perhaps he is not dead.
+Keep back!"
+
+Dead! Brian never forgot the sick feeling of dread which then came over
+him. What had he done? He did not hear Archie's excited words; he came
+hurriedly to the side of the man, who lay lifeless upon the ground with
+his head on the young fellow's knee. Archie looked up at him with
+dilated terrified eyes. And Brian stood stock still.
+
+It was Richard who lay before him, dead as a stone. He had dropped
+without a cry, perhaps even without a pang. There was a little purple
+mark upon his temple, from which a drop of black blood had oozed. A
+half-smile still lingered on his mouth; his face had scarcely changed
+colour, his attitude was natural, and yet the spectators felt that Death
+had set his imprint on that tranquil brow. Richard Luttrell's day was
+over; he had gone to a world where he might perhaps stand in need of
+that mercy which he had been only too ready to deny to others who had
+erred.
+
+Archie's elder brother, Donald Grant, and the keeper were hurrying to
+the spot. They found Brian on his knees beside the body, feeling with
+trembling hands for the pulse that beat no longer. His face was the
+colour of ashes, but as yet he had not uttered a single word. Donald
+Grant spoke first, with an anxious glance towards his brother.
+
+"How----" he began, and then stopped short, for Archie had silenced him
+with an almost imperceptible sign towards Brian Luttrell.
+
+"We heard two shots," muttered Donald, as he also bent over the
+prostrate form.
+
+"Only one, I think," said Archie.
+
+His brother pulled him aside.
+
+"I tell you I heard two," he said in a hushed voice. "You didn't fire?"
+
+"I had no gun."
+
+"Was it Brian?"
+
+"Yes. He shot straight at--at Richard; didn't see him a bit. He was
+always short-sighted."
+
+Donald gave his brother a look, and then turned to the keeper, whose
+face was working with unwonted emotion at the sight before him.
+
+"We must get help," he said, gravely. "He must be carried home, and some
+one must go to Dunmuir. Brian, shall I send to the village for you?"
+
+He touched Brian's shoulder as he spoke. The young man rose, and turned
+his pale face and lack-lustre eyes towards his friend as though he could
+not understand the question. Donald, repeated it, changing the form a
+little.
+
+"Shall I send for the men?" he said.
+
+Brian pressed his hand to his forehead.
+
+"The men?" he said, vaguely.
+
+"To carry--him to the house."
+
+Donald was compassionate, but he was uncomprehending of his friend's
+apparent want of emotion. He wanted to stir him up to a more definite
+show of feeling. And to some extent he got his wish.
+
+A look of horror came into Brian's eyes; a shudder ran through his
+frame.
+
+"Oh, my God!" he whispered, hoarsely, "is it I who have done this
+thing?"
+
+And then he threw up his hands as though to screen his eyes from the
+sight of the dead face, staggered a few steps away from the little
+group, and fell fainting to the ground.
+
+It was a sad procession that wound its way through the woodland paths at
+last, and stopped at the gate of Netherglen. Brian had recovered
+sufficiently to walk like a mourner behind the covered stretcher on
+which his brother's form was laid; but he paid little attention to the
+whispers that were exchanged from time to time between the Grants and
+the men who carried that melancholy burden to the Luttrells' door. On
+coming to himself after his swoon he wept like a child for a little
+time, but had then collected himself and become sadly quiet and calm.
+Still, he was scarcely awake to anything but the mere fact of his great
+misfortune, and it was not until the question was actually put to him,
+that he asked himself whether he could bear to take the news to his
+mother of the death of her eldest son.
+
+Brave as he was, he shrank from the task. "No, no!" he said, looking
+wildly into Donald's face. "Not I. I am not the one to tell her, that
+I--that I-----"
+
+A great sob burst from him in spite of his usual self-control. Donald
+Grant turned aside; he did not know how to bear the spectacle of grief
+such as this. And there were others to be thought of beside Mrs.
+Luttrell. Miss Vivian--Richard Luttrell's promised wife--was in the
+house; Donald Grant's own sisters were still waiting for him and Archie.
+It was impossible to go up to the house without preparing its tenants
+for the blow that had fallen upon them. Yet who would prepare them?
+
+"Here is the doctor," said Archie, turning towards the road. "He will
+tell them."
+
+Doctor Muir had long been a trusted friend of the Luttrell family. He
+had liked Richard rather less than any other member of the household,
+but he was sincerely grieved and shocked by the news which had greeted
+him as he went upon his rounds. The Grants drew him aside and gave him
+their account of the accident before he spoke to Brian. The doctor had
+tears in his eyes when they had finished. He went up to Brian and
+pressed his unresponsive hand.
+
+"My boy--my boy!" he said; "don't be cast down. It was the will of God."
+He pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed away a tear from his eyes as he
+spoke. "Shall I just see your poor mother? I'll step up to the house,
+and ye'll wait here till my return. Eh, but it's awful, awful!" The old
+man uttered the last words more to himself than to Brian, whose hand he
+again shook mechanically before he turned away.
+
+Brian followed him closely. "Doctor," he said, in a low, husky voice,
+"I'll go with you."
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Dr. Muir, sharply. "Why, man, your
+face would be enough to tell the news, in all conscience. You may walk
+to the door with me--the back door, if you please--but further you shall
+not come until I have seen Mistress Luttrell. Here, give me your arm;
+you're not fit to go alone with that white face. And how did it happen,
+my poor lad?"
+
+"I don't know--I can't tell," said Brian, slowly. "I saw the bird rise
+from the bank--and then I saw something moving--but I thought I must be
+mistaken; and I fired, and he--he fell! By my hand, too! Oh, Doctor, is
+there a God in Heaven to let such things be?"
+
+"Hut, tut, tut, but we'll have no such words as these, my bairn. If the
+Lord lets these things happen, we'll maybe find that He's had some good
+reason for't. He's always in the right. And ye must just learn to bow
+yourself, Brian, to the will of the Almighty, for there's no denying but
+He's laid a sore trial upon ye, my poor lad, and one that will be hard
+to bear."
+
+"I shall never bear it," said Brian, who caught but imperfectly the
+drift of the doctor's simple words of comfort. "It is too hard--too hard
+to bear."
+
+They had reached the back door, by which Dr. Muir preferred to make his
+entrance. He uttered a few words to the servants about the accident that
+had occurred, and then sent a message asking to speak alone with Mrs.
+Luttrell. The answer came back that Mrs. Luttrell would see him in the
+study. And thither the doctor went, leaving Brian in one of the cold,
+stone corridors that divided the kitchens and offices from the
+living-rooms of the house. Meanwhile, the body of Richard Luttrell was
+silently carried into one of the lower rooms until another place could
+be prepared for its reception.
+
+How long Brian waited, with his forehead, pressed against the wall, deaf
+and blind to everything but an overmastering dread of his mother's agony
+which had taken complete possession of him, he did not know. He only
+knew that after a certain time--an eternity it seemed to him--a bitter,
+wailing cry came to his ears; a cry that pierced through the thick walls
+and echoed down the dark passages, although it was neither loud nor
+long. But there was something in the intensity of the grief that it
+expressed which seemed to give it a peculiarly penetrating quality. Ah,
+it was this sound that Brian now knew he had been dreading; this sound
+that cut him to the heart.
+
+Dr. Muir, on coming hurriedly out from the study, found Brian in the
+corridor with his hands pressed to his ears as if to keep out the sound
+of that one fearful cry.
+
+"Come away, my boy," he said, pitifully. "We can do no good here. Where
+is Miss Vivian?"
+
+Brian's hands dropped to his sides. He kept his eyes fixed on the
+doctor's face as if he would read his very soul. And for the moment
+Doctor Muir could not meet that piercing gaze. He tried to pass on, but
+Brian laid his hand on his arm.
+
+"Tell me all," he said. "What does my mother say? Has it killed her?"
+
+"Killed her? People are not so easily killed by grief, my dear Mr.
+Brian," said the doctor. "Come away, come away. Your mother is not just
+herself, and speaks wildly, as mothers are wont to do when they lose
+their first-born son. We'll not mind what she says just now. Where is
+Miss Vivian? It is she that I want to see."
+
+"I understand," said Brian, taking away his hands from the doctor's arm
+and hiding his face with them, "my mother will not see me; she will not
+forgive my--my--accursed carelessness----"
+
+"Worse than that!" muttered the doctor to himself, but, fortunately,
+Brian did not hear. And at that moment a slender woman's figure appeared
+at the end of the corridor; it hesitated, moved slowly forward, and then
+approached them hastily.
+
+"Is Mrs. Luttrell ill?" asked Angela.
+
+She had a candle in her hand, and the beams fell full upon her soft,
+white dress and the Eucharis lily in her hair. She had twisted a string
+of pearls three times round her neck--it was an heirloom of great value.
+The other ornaments were all Richard's gifts; two broad bands of gold
+set with pearls and diamonds upon her arms, and the diamond ring which
+had been the pledge of her betrothal. She was very pale, and her eyes
+were large with anxiety as she asked her question of the two men, whom
+her appearance had struck with dumbness. Brian turned away with a
+half-audible groan. Doctor Muir looked at her intently from beneath his
+shaggy, grey eyebrows, and did not speak.
+
+"I know there is something wrong, or you would not stand like this
+outside Mrs. Luttrell's door," said Angela, with a quiver in her sweet
+voice. "And Richard is not here! Where is Richard?"
+
+There was silence.
+
+"Something has happened to Richard? Some accident--some----"
+
+She stopped, looked at Brian's averted face, and shivered as if an icy
+wind had passed over her. Doctor Muir took the candle from her hand,
+then opened his lips to speak. But she stopped him. "Don't tell me," she
+said. "I am going to his mother. I shall learn it in a moment from her
+face. Besides--I know--I know."
+
+The delicate tinting had left her cheeks and lips; her eyes were
+distended, her limbs trembled as she moved. Doctor Muir stood aside,
+giving her the benefit of keen professional scrutiny as she passed; but
+he was satisfied. She was not a woman who would either faint or scream
+in an emergency. She might suffer, but she would suffer in silence
+rather than add by word or deed one iota to the burden of suffering that
+another might have to bear. Therefore, Doctor Muir let her enter the
+room in which the widowed mother wept, and prayed in his heart that
+Angela Vivian might receive the news of her bereavement in a different
+spirit from that shown by Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+The noise of shuffling feet, of muffled voices, of stifled sobs, reached
+the ears of the watchers in the corridor from another part of the house.
+Doctor Muir had sent a messenger to bid the men advance with their sad
+burden to a side door which opened into a sitting-room not very
+generally used. The housekeeper, an old and faithful servant of the
+family, had already prepared it, according to the doctor's orders, for
+the reception of the dead. The visitors hurriedly took their departure;
+Donald Grant's wagonette had been at the door some little time, and, as
+soon as he had seen poor Richard Luttrell's remains laid upon a long
+table in the sitting-room, he drove silently away, with Archie on the
+box-seat beside him, and the three girls in the seats behind, crying
+over the troubles of their friends.
+
+Doctor Muir and Brian Luttrell remained for some time in the passage
+outside the study door. The doctor tried several times to persuade his
+companion to leave his post, but Brian refused to do so.
+
+"I must wait; I must see my mother," he repeated, when the doctor
+pressed him to come away. "Oh, I know that she will not want to see me;
+she will never wish to look on my face again, but I must see her and
+remind her that--that--she has one son left--who loves her still." And
+then Brian's voice broke and he said no more. Doctor Muir shook his
+head. He did not believe that Mrs. Luttrell would be much comforted by
+his reminder. She had never seemed to love her second son.
+
+"Where is Hugo?" the doctor asked, in an undertone, when the silence had
+lasted some time.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"He will be home to-night?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+All this time no sound had reached them from the interior of the room
+where the two women sat together. Their voices must have been very low,
+their sobs subdued. Angela had not cried out as Mrs. Luttrell had done
+when she received the fatal news. No movement, no sign of grief was to
+be heard.
+
+Brian lifted up his grief-stricken eyes at last, and fixed them on the
+doctor's face.
+
+"Are they dead?" he muttered, strangely. "Will they never speak again?"
+
+Doctor Muir did not immediately reply. He had placed the candle on a
+wooden bracket in the wall, and its flickering beams lighted, the dark
+corridor so feebly that until now he had scarcely caught a glimpse of
+the young man's haggard looks. They frightened him a little. He himself
+took life so easily--fretted so little against the inevitable--that he
+scarcely understood the look of anguish which an hour or two of trouble
+had imprinted upon Brian Luttrell's face. It was the kind of sorrow
+which has been known to turn a man's hair from black to white in a
+single night.
+
+"I will knock at the door," said the doctor. But before he could carry
+out his intention, footsteps were heard, and the handle of the door was
+turned. Both men drew back involuntarily into the shadow as Mrs.
+Luttrell and Angela came forth.
+
+Angela had been weeping, but there were no signs of tears upon the elder
+woman's face. Rigid, white, and hard, it looked almost as if it were
+carved in stone; a mute image of misery too deep for tears. There were
+lines upon her brow that had never been seen there before; her lips were
+tightly compressed; her eyes fiercely bright. She had thrown a black
+shawl over her head on coming away from the drawing-room into the
+draughty corridors. This shawl, which she had forgotten to remove,
+together with the dead blackness of her dress, gave her pale face a
+strangely spectral appearance. Clinging to her, and yet guiding her,
+came Angela, with the white flower crushed and drooping from her hair.
+She also was ashy pale, but there was a more natural and tender look of
+grief to be read in her wet eyes and on her trembling lips than in the
+stony tranquility of Richard Luttrell's mother.
+
+Brian could not contain himself. He rushed forward and threw himself on
+the ground at his mother's feet. Mrs. Luttrell shrank back a little and
+clutched Angela's arm fiercely with her thin, white fingers.
+
+"Mother, speak to me; tell me that you--mother, only speak!"
+
+His voice died away in irrepressible sobs which shook him from head to
+foot. He dared not utter the word "forgiveness" yet. Unintentional as
+the harm might be that his hand had done, it was sadly irreparable, too.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell looked at him with scarcely a change of feature, and tried
+to withdraw some stray fold of her garments from his grasp. He resisted;
+he would not let her go. His heart was aching with his own trouble, and
+with the consciousness of her loss--Angela's loss--all the suffering
+that Richard's death would inflict upon these two women who had loved
+him so devotedly. He yearned for one little word of comfort and
+affection, which even in that terrible moment, a mother should have
+known so well how to give. But he lay at that mother's feet in vain.
+
+It was Angela who spoke first.
+
+"Speak to him, mother," she said, tremblingly. "See how he suffers. It
+was not his fault."
+
+The tears ran down her pale cheeks unnoticed as she spoke. It was only
+natural to Angela that her first words should be words of consolation to
+another, not of sorrow for her own great loss. But Mrs. Luttrell did not
+unclose her lips.
+
+"Ye'll not be hard upon him, madam," said the old doctor, deprecatingly.
+"Your own lad, and a lad that kneels to you for a gentle word, and will
+be heartbroken if you say him nay."
+
+"And is my heart not broken?" asked the mother, lifting her head and
+looking away into the darkness of the long corridor. "The son that I
+loved is dead; the boy that came to me like a little angel in the spring
+of my youth--they say that he is dead and cold. I am going to look at
+his face again. Come, Angela. Perhaps they have spoken falsely, and he
+is alive--not murdered, after all."
+
+"Murdered? Mother!"
+
+Brian raised himself a little and repeated the word with shuddering
+emphasis.
+
+"Murdered!" said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily, as she turned her burning eyes
+full upon the countenance of her younger son; as if to watch the
+workings of his agitated features. "If not by the laws of man, by God's
+laws you are guilty. You had quarrelled with him that day; and you took
+your revenge. I tell you, James Muir, and you, Angela Vivian, that Brian
+Luttrell took his brother's life by no mistake--that he is Richard's
+murderer----"
+
+"No; I swear it by the God who made me--no!" cried Brian, springing to
+his feet.
+
+But his mother had turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.
+
+
+About ten o'clock at night Hugo Luttrell was seen entering the courtyard
+at the back of the house, where keepers, grooms, and indoor servants
+were collected in a group, discussing in low tones the event of the day.
+Seeing these persons, he seemed inclined to go back by the way that he
+had come; but the butler--an old Englishman who had been in the Luttrell
+family before Edward Luttrell ever thought of marrying a Scotch heiress
+and settling for the greater part of every year at Netherglen--this said
+butler, whose name was William Whale, caught sight of the young fellow
+and accosted him by name.
+
+"Mr. Hugo, sir, there's been many inquiries after you," he began in a
+lugubrious tone of voice.
+
+"After me, William?" Hugo looked frightened and uneasy. "What for?"
+
+"You won't have heard of the calamity that has come upon the house,"
+said William, shaking his head solemnly; "and it will be a great shock
+to you, no doubt, sir; a terrible shock. Stand back, you men, there; let
+Mr. Hugo pass. Come into the housekeeper's room, sir. There's a fire in
+it; the night has turned chilly. Go softly, if you please, sir."
+
+Hugo followed the old man without another question. He looked haggard
+and wearied; his clothes were wet, torn and soiled; his very hair was
+damp, and his boots were soaked and burst as though from a long day's
+tramp. Mrs. Shairp, the housekeeper, with whom he was a favourite,
+uttered a startled exclamation at his appearance.
+
+"Guid guide us, sirs! and whaur hae ye been hidin' yoursel' a' this day
+an' nicht, Mr. Hugo? We've baen sair trouble i' th' hoose, and naebody
+kent your whaurabouts. Bairn! but ye're just droukit! Whaur hae you
+hidden yoursel' then?"
+
+"Hidden!" Hugo repeated, catching at one of the good woman's words and
+ignoring the others. "I've not hidden anywhere. I've been over the hills
+a bit--that's all. What is the matter?"
+
+He seated himself in the old woman's cushioned chair, and leaned forward
+to warm himself at the fire as he spoke, holding out first one hand and
+then the other to the leaping blaze.
+
+"How will I tell you?" said Mrs. Shairp, relapsing into the tears she
+had been shedding for the last two hours or more. "Is it possible that
+ye've heard naething ava? The laird--Netherglen himsel'--oor
+maister--and have you heard naething aboot him as you cam doun by the
+muir? I'd hae thocht shame to let you gang hame unkent, if I had been
+Jenny Burns at the lodge."
+
+"I did not come that way," said Hugo, impatiently. "What is the matter
+with the laird?"
+
+"Maitter?--maitter wi' the laird? The laird's deid, laddie, and a gude
+freend was he to me and mine, and to your ain sei' forbye, and the hale
+kintra side will be at the buryin'," said the housekeeper, shaking her
+head solemnly. "An' if that were na enow for my poor mistress there's a
+waur thing to follow. The laird's fa'en by his ain brither's han's. Mr.
+Brian shot him this verra nicht, as they cam' thro' the wud."
+
+"By mistake, Mrs. Shairp, by mistake," murmured William Whale. But Hugo
+lifted his haggard face, which looked very pale in the glow of the
+firelight.
+
+"You can't mean what you are saying," he said, in a hoarse, unnatural
+voice. "Richard? Richard--dead! Oh, it must be impossible!"
+
+"True, sir, as gospel," said Mrs. Shairp, touched by the ring of pain
+that came into the young man's voice as he spoke. "At half-past eight,
+by the clock, they brought the laird hame stiff and stark, cauld as a
+stane a'ready. The mistress is clean daft wi' sorrow; an' I doot but Mr.
+Brian will hae a sair time o't wi' her and the bonny young leddy that's
+left ahent."
+
+Hugo dropped his face into his hands and did not answer. A shudder ran
+through his frame more than once. Mrs. Shairp thought that he was
+shedding tears, and motioned to William Whale, who had been standing
+near the door with a napkin over his arm, to leave the room. William
+retired shutting the door softly behind him.
+
+Presently Hugo spoke. "Tell me about it," he said. And Mrs. Shairp was
+only too happy to pour into his ears the whole story as she had learned
+it from the keeper who had come upon the scene just after the firing of
+the fatal shot. He listened almost in silence, but did not uncover his
+face.
+
+"And his mother?" he asked at length.
+
+Mrs. Shairp could say little about the laird's mother. It was Dr. Muir
+who had told her the truth, she said, and the whole house had heard her
+cry out as if she had been struck. Then Miss Vivian had gone to her, and
+had received the news from Mrs. Luttrell's own lips. They had gone
+together to look at Richard's face, and then Miss Vivian had fainted,
+and had been carried into Mrs. Luttrell's own room, where she was to
+spend the night. So much Mrs. Shairp knew, and nothing more.
+
+"And where is Brian?"
+
+"Whaur should he be?" demanded the old woman, with some asperity. "Whaur
+but in's ain room, sair cast doun for the ill he has dune."
+
+"It was not his fault," said Hugo, quickly.
+
+"Maybe no," replied Mrs. Shairp, with reserve. "Maybe ay, maybe no; it's
+just the question--though I wadna like to think that the lad meant to
+harm his brother."
+
+"Who does think so?"
+
+"I'm no saying that onybody thinks sae. Mr. Brian was aye a kind-hearted
+lad an' a bonny, but never a lucky ane, sae lang as I hae kent him,
+which will be twenty years gane at Marti'mas. I cam' at the term."
+
+Hugo scarcely listened to her. He rose up with a strange, scared look
+upon his face, and walked unsteadily out of the room, without a word of
+thanks to Mrs. Shairp for her communications. Before she had recovered
+from her astonishment, he was far down the corridor on his way to the
+other portion of the house.
+
+In which room had they laid Richard Luttrell? Hugo remembered with a
+shiver that he had not asked. He glanced round the hall with a thrill of
+nervous apprehension. The drawing-room and dining-room doors stood open;
+they were in darkness. The little morning-room door was also slightly
+ajar, but a dim light seemed to be burning inside. It must be in that
+room, Hugo decided, that Richard Luttrell lay. Should he go in? No, he
+dare not. He could not look upon Richard Luttrell's dead face. And yet
+he hesitated, drawn by a curious fascination towards that half-open
+door.
+
+While he waited, the door was slowly opened from the inside, and a hand
+appeared clasping the edge of the door. A horrible fancy seized Hugo
+that Richard had risen from his bed and was coming out into the hall;
+that Richard's fingers were bent round the edge of the open door. He
+longed to fly, but his knees trembled; he could not move. He stood
+rooted to the spot with unreasoning terror, until the door opened still
+more widely, and the person who had been standing in the room came out.
+It was no ghostly Richard, sallying forth to upbraid Hugo for his
+misdeeds. It was Brian Luttrell who turned his pale face towards the boy
+as he passed through the hall.
+
+Hugo cowered before him. He sank down on the lower steps of the wide
+staircase and hid his face in his hands. Brian, who had been passing him
+by without remark, seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and stopped
+short before his cousin. The lad's shrinking attitude touched him with
+pity.
+
+"You are right to come back," he said, in a voice which, although
+abstracted, was strangely calm. "He told you to leave the house for
+ever, did he not? But I think that--now--he would rather that you
+stayed. He told me that I might do for you what I chose."
+
+The lad's head was bent still lower. He did not say a word.
+
+"So," said Brian, leaning against the great oak bannisters as if he were
+utterly exhausted by fatigue, "so--if you stay--you will only be
+doing--what, perhaps, he wishes now. You need not be afraid."
+
+"You are the master--now," murmured Hugo from between his fingers.
+
+It was the last speech that Brian would have expected to hear from his
+cousin's lips. It cut him to the heart.
+
+"Don't say so!" he cried, in a stifled voice. "Good God! to think that
+I--I--should profit by my brother's death!" And Hugo, lifting up his
+head, saw that the young man's frame was shaken by shuddering horror
+from head to foot. "I shall never be master here," he said.
+
+Hugo raised his head with a look of wonder. Brian's feeling was quite
+incomprehensible to him.
+
+"He was always a good brother to me," Brian went on in a shaken voice,
+more to himself than to his cousin, "and a kind friend to you so long as
+you kept straight and did not disgrace us by your conduct. You had no
+right to complain, whatever he might do or say to you. You ought to
+mourn for him--you ought to regret him bitterly--bitterly--while
+I--I----"
+
+"Do not you mourn for him, then?" said Hugo, when the pause that
+followed Brian's speech had become insupportable to him.
+
+"If I were only in his place I should be happy," said Brian,
+passionately. Then he turned upon Hugo with something like fierceness,
+but it was the fierceness of a prolonged and half-suppressed agony of
+pain. "Do you feel nothing? Do you come into his house, knowing that he
+is dead, and have not a word of sorrow for your own behaviour to him
+while he lived? Come with me and look at him--look at his face, and
+remember what he did for you when you were a boy--what he has done for
+you during the last eight years."
+
+He seized Hugo by the arm and compelled him to rise; but the lad, with a
+face blanched by terror, absolutely refused to move from the spot.
+
+"Not to-night--I can't--I can't!" he said, his dark eyes dilating, and
+his very lips turning white with fear. "To-morrow, Brian--not to-night."
+
+But Brian briefly answered, "Come," and tightened his grasp on the lad's
+arm. And Hugo, though trembling like an aspen leaf, yielded to that iron
+pressure, and followed him to the room where lay all that was mortal of
+Richard Luttrell.
+
+Once inside the door, Brian dropped his cousin's arm, and seemed to
+forget his presence. He slowly removed the covering from the dead face
+and placed a candle so that the light fell upon it. Then he walked to
+the foot of the table, which served the purpose of a bier, and looked
+long and earnestly at the marble features, so changed, so passionless
+and calm in the repose of death! Terrible, indeed, was the sight to one
+who had sincerely loved Richard Luttrell--the strong man, full of lusty
+health and vigour, desirous of life, fortunate in the possession, of all
+that makes life worth living only a few short hours before; now silent,
+motionless for ever struck down in the hey-day of youth and strength,
+and by a brother's hand! Brian had but spoken the truth when he said
+that he would gladly change his own fate for that of his brother
+Richard. He forgot Hugo and the reason for which he had brought him to
+that room, he forgot everything except his own unavailing sorrow, his
+inextinguishable regret.
+
+Hugo remained where his cousin had left him, leaning against the wall,
+seemingly incapable of speech or motion, overcome by a superstitious
+terror of death, which Brian was as far from suspecting as of
+comprehending. In the utter silence of the house they could hear the
+distant stable-clock strike eleven. The wind was rising, and blew in
+fitful gusts, rustling the branches of the trees, and causing a loose
+rose-branch to tap carelessly against the window panes. It sounded like
+the knock of someone anxious to come in. The candles flickered and
+guttered in the draught; the wavering light cast strange shadows over
+the dead man's face. You might have thought that his features moved from
+time to time; that now he frowned at the intruders, and now he smiled at
+them--a terrible, ghastly smile.
+
+There was a footstep at the door. It was Mrs. Luttrell who came gliding
+in with her pale face, and her long black robes, to take her place at
+her dead son's side. She had thought that she must come and assure
+herself once more that he was really gone from her. She meant to look at
+him for a little while, to kiss his cold forehead, and then to go back
+to Angela and try to sleep. She took no notice of Brian, nor of Hugo;
+she drew a chair close to the long table upon which the still, white
+form was stretched, seated herself, and looked steadfastly at the
+uncovered face. Brian started at the sight of his mother; he glanced at
+her pleadingly, as if he would have spoken; but the rigidity of her face
+repelled him. He hung his head and turned a little from her, as though
+to steal away.
+
+Suddenly a terrible voice rang through the room. "Look!" cried the
+mother, pointing with one finger to the lifeless form, and raising her
+eyes for the first time to Brian's face--"look there!"
+
+Brian looked, and flinched from the sight he saw. For a strange thing
+had happened. Although not actually unusual, it had never before come
+within the experience of any of these watchers of the dead, and thus it
+suggested to them nothing but the old superstition which in old times
+caused a supposed murderer to be brought face to face with the man he
+was accused of having killed.
+
+A drop of blood was trickling from the nostril of the dead man, and
+losing itself in the thick, black moustache upon his upper lip. It was
+followed by another or two, and then it stayed.
+
+The mother did not speak again. Her hand sank; her eyes were riveted
+upon Brian's face with a mute reproach. And Brian, although he knew well
+enough in his sober senses that the phenomenon they had just seen was
+merely caused by the breaking of some small blood-vessel in the brain,
+such as often occurs after death, was so far dominated by the impression
+of the moment that he walked out of the room, not daring to justify
+himself in his mother's eyes, not daring to raise his head. After him
+crept Hugo whose teeth chattered as though he were suffering from an
+ague; but Brian took no more notice of his cousin. He went straight to
+his own room and locked himself in, to bear his lonely sorrow as best he
+might.
+
+No formal inquiry was made into the cause of Richard Luttrell's death.
+Archie Grant's testimony completely exonerated Brian, even of
+carelessness, and the general opinion was that no positive blame could
+be attached to anybody for the sad occurrence, and that Mr. Brian
+Luttrell had the full sympathy and respect of all who knew him and had
+known his lamented brother, Richard Luttrell of Netherglen.
+
+So the matter ended. But idle tongues still wagged, and wise heads were
+shaken over the circumstances attending Richard Luttrell's death.
+
+It was partly Mrs. Luttrell's fault. In the first hours of her
+bereavement she had spoken wildly and bitterly of the share which Brian
+had had in causing Richard's death. She had spoken to Doctor Muir, to
+Angela, to Mrs. Shairp--a few words only to each, but enough to show in
+what direction her thoughts were tending. With the first two her words
+were sacred, but Mrs. Shairp, though kindly enough, was not so
+trustworthy. Before the good woman realised what she was doing, the
+whole household, nay, the whole country-side, had learned that Mrs.
+Luttrell believed her second son to have fired that fatal shot with the
+intention of killing, or at least of maiming, his brother Richard.
+
+The Grants, who had spent the day of the accident at Netherglen, were,
+of course, eagerly questioned by inquisitive acquaintances. The girls
+were ready enough to chatter. They confided to their intimate friends in
+mysterious whispers that the brothers had certainly not been on good
+terms; they had glowered at one another, and caught each other up and
+been positively rude to each other; and they would not go out together;
+and poor Mr. Luttrell looked so worried, so unlike himself! Then the
+brothers were interrogated, but proved less easy to "draw." Archie flew
+into a rage at the notion of sinister intentions on Brian's part. Donald
+looked "dour," and flatly refused to discuss the subject.
+
+But his refusal was thought vastly suspicious by the many wiseacres who
+knew the business of everybody better than their own. And the rumour
+waxed and spread.
+
+During the days before the funeral Brian scarcely saw anyone. He lived
+shut up in his own room, as his mother did in hers, and had interviews
+only with his lawyer and men who came on business. It was a sad and
+melancholy house in those days. Angela was invisible: whether it was she
+or Mrs. Luttrell who was ill nobody could exactly say. Hugo wandered
+about the lonely rooms, or shut himself up after the fashion of the
+other members of the family, and looked like a ghost. After the first
+two days, Angela's only near relation, her brother Rupert, was present
+in the house; but his society seemed not to be very acceptable to Hugo,
+and, finding that he was of no use, even to his sister, Mr. Vivian went
+back to England, and the house seemed quieter than it had been before.
+
+The funeral took place at last. When it was over, Brian came home, said
+farewell to the guests, had a long interview with Mr. Colquhoun, the
+solicitor, and then seated himself in the study with the air of a man
+who was resolved to take up the burden of his duties in a befitting
+spirit. His air was melancholy, but calm; he seemed aged by ten years
+since his brother's death. He dined with Hugo, Mr. Colquhoun and Dr.
+Muir, and exerted himself to talk of current topics with courtesy and
+interest. But his weary face, his saddened eyes, and the long pauses
+that occurred between his intervals of speech, produced a depressing
+effect upon his guests. Hugo was no more cheerful than his cousin. He
+watched Brian furtively from time to time, yet seemed afraid to meet his
+eye. His silence and depression were so marked that the doctor
+afterwards remarked it to Mr. Colquhoun. "I did not think that Mr. Hugo
+would take his cousin's death so much to heart," he said.
+
+"Do you think he does?" asked Mr. Colquhoun, drily. "I don't believe
+he's got a heart, the young scamp. I found him myself in the wood,
+examining the bark of the tree near which the accident took place, you
+know, on the morning after Richard's death, as cool as a cucumber. 'I
+was trying to make out how it happened,' he said to me, when I came up.
+'Brian must have shot very straight.' I told him to go home and mind his
+own business."
+
+"Do you think what they say about Brian's intentions had any
+foundation?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Not a bit. Brian's too tender-hearted for a thing of that sort. But the
+mother's very bitter about it. She's as hard as flint. It's a bad look
+out for Brian. He's a ruined man."
+
+"Not from a pecuniary point of view. The property goes to him."
+
+"Yes, but he hasn't the strength to put up with the slights and the
+scandal which will go with it. He has the pluck, but not the physique.
+It's men like him that go out of their minds, or commit suicide, or die
+of heart-break--which you doctors call by some other name, of
+course--when the world's against them. He'll never stand it. Mark my
+words--Brian Luttrell won't be to the fore this time next year."
+
+"Where will he be, Colquhoun? Come, come, Brian's a fellow with brains.
+He won't do anything rash."
+
+"He'll be in his grave," said the lawyer, gloomily.
+
+"Hell be enjoying himself in the metropolis," said the doctor. "He'll
+have a fine house and a pretty wife, and he'll laugh in our faces if we
+hint at your prophecies, Colquhoun. I should have had no respect at all
+for Brian Luttrell if he threw away his own life because he had
+accidentally taken that of another man."
+
+"We shall see," said the lawyer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+MOTHER AND SON.
+
+
+Early on the following morning Brian received a message from his mother.
+It was the first communication that she had vouchsafed to him since the
+day of her eldest son's death. "Would he come to her dressing-room at
+eleven o'clock? She wished to consult him upon special business." Brian
+sent word that he would be with her at that hour, and then fell into
+anxious meditation as he sat at breakfast, with Hugo at the other end of
+the table.
+
+"Don't go far away from the house, Hugo," he said at last, as he rose to
+leave the room. "I may want you in the course of the morning."
+
+Hugo looked up at him without answering. The lad had been studying a
+newspaper, with his head supported by his left hand, while his right
+played with his coffee cup or the morsels of food upon his plate. He did
+not seem to have much appetite. His great, dark eyes looked larger than
+usual, and were ringed with purple shadow; his lips were tremulous. "It
+was wonderful," as people said, "to see how that poor young fellow felt
+his cousin's death."
+
+Perhaps Brian thought so too, for he added, very gently--though when did
+he not speak gently?--
+
+"There is nothing wrong. I only want to make some arrangements with you
+for your future. Think a little about it before I speak to you."
+
+And then he went out of the room, and Hugo was left to his meditations,
+which were not of the most agreeable character, in spite of Brian's
+reassuring words.
+
+He pushed his plate and newspaper away from him impatiently; a frown
+showed itself on his beautiful, low brows.
+
+"What will he do for me? Anything definite, I wonder? Poor beggar, I'm
+sorry for him, but my position has been decidedly improved since that
+unlucky shot at Richard. Did he want him out of the way, I wonder? The
+gloomy look with which he goes makes about one imagine that he did. What
+a fool he must be!"
+
+Hugo pushed back his chair and rose: a cynical smile curled his lips for
+a moment, but it changed by degrees into an expression of somewhat
+sullen discontent.
+
+"I wish I could sleep at nights," he said, moving slowly towards the
+window. "I've never been so wretchedly wakeful in all my life." Then he
+gazed out into the garden, but without seeing much of the scene that he
+gazed upon, for his thoughts were far away, and his whole soul was
+possessed by fear of what Brian would do or say.
+
+At eleven o'clock Brian made his way to his mother's dressing-room, an
+apartment which, although bearing that name, was more like an ordinary
+sitting-room than a dressing-room. He knocked, and was answered by his
+mother's voice.
+
+"Come in," she said. "Is it you, Brian?"
+
+"Yes, it is I," Brian said, as he closed the door behind him.
+
+He walked quietly to the hearth-rug, where he stood with one hand
+resting on the mantelpiece. It was a convenient attitude, and one which
+exposed him to no rebuffs. He was too wise to offer hand or cheek to his
+mother by way of greeting.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell was sitting on a sofa, with her back to the light. Brian
+thought that she looked older and more worn; there were fresh wrinkles
+upon her forehead, and marks of weeping and sleeplessness about her
+eyes, but her figure was erect as ever, as rigidly upright as if her
+backbone were made of iron. She was in the deepest possible mourning;
+even the handkerchief that she held in her hand was edged with two or
+three inches of black. Brian looked round for Angela; he had expected to
+find her with his mother, but she was not there. The door into Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room was partly open.
+
+"How is Angela?" he asked.
+
+"Angela is not well. Could you expect her to be well after the terrible
+trial that has overtaken her?"
+
+Brian winced. He could make no reply to such a question. Mrs. Luttrell
+scored a triumph, and continued in her hard, incisive way:--
+
+"She is probably as well as she can hope to be under the circumstances.
+Her health has suffered--as mine also has suffered--under the painful
+dispensation which has been meted out to us. We do not repine. Hearts
+that are broken, that have no hopes, no joys, no pleasures in store for
+them in this life, are not eager to exhibit their sufferings. If I speak
+as I speak now, it is for the last and only time. It is right that you
+should hear me once."
+
+"I will hear anything you choose to say," answered Brian, heavily. "But,
+mother, be merciful. I have suffered, too."
+
+"We will pass over the amount of your suffering," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+"if you please. I have no doubt that it is very great, but I think that
+it will soon be assuaged. I think that you will soon begin to remember
+the many things that you gain by your brother's death--the social
+position, the assured income, the estate in Scotland which I brought to
+your father, as well as his own house of Netherglen--all the things for
+which men are only too ready to sell their souls."
+
+"All these things are nothing to me," sighed Brian.
+
+"They are a great deal in the world's eyes. You will soon find out how
+differently it receives you now from the way it received you a year--a
+month--a week--ago. You are a rich man. I wish you joy of your wealth.
+Everything goes to you except Netherglen itself; that is left in my
+hands."
+
+"Mother, are you mad?" said her son, passionately. "Why do you talk to
+me in this way? I swear to you that I would give every hope and every
+joy that I ever possessed--I would give my life--to have Richard back
+again! Do you think I ever wanted to be rich through his death?"
+
+"I do not know what you wanted," said Mrs. Luttrell, sternly. "I have no
+means of guessing."
+
+"Is this what you wished me to say?" said Brian, whose voice was hoarse
+and changed. "I said that I would listen--but, you might spare me these
+taunts, at least."
+
+"I do not taunt you. I wish only to draw attention to the difference
+between your position and my own. Richard's death brings wealth, ease,
+comfort to you; to me nothing but desolation. I am willing to allow the
+house of which I have been the mistress for so many years, of which I am
+legally the mistress still, to pass into your hands. I have lost my home
+as well as my sons. I am desolate."
+
+"Your sons! You have not lost both your sons, mother," pleaded Brian,
+with a note of bitter pain in his voice, as he came closer to her and
+tried in vain to take her icy hand. "Why do you think that you are no
+longer mistress of this house? You are as much mistress as you were in
+my father's time--in Richard's time. Why should there be a difference
+now?"
+
+"There is this difference," said Mrs. Luttrell, coldly, "that I do not
+care to live in any house with you. It would be painful to me; that is
+all. If you desire to stay, I will go."
+
+Brian staggered back as if she had struck him in the face.
+
+"Do you mean to cast me off?" he almost whispered, for he could not find
+strength to speak aloud. "Am I not your son, too?"
+
+"You fill the place that a son should occupy," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+letting her hand rise and fall upon her lap, and looking away from
+Brian. "I can say no more. My son--my own son--the son that I
+loved"--(she paused, and seemed to recollect herself before she
+continued in a lower voice)--"the son that I loved--is dead."
+
+There was a silence. Brian seated himself and bowed his head upon his
+hands. "God help me!" she heard him mutter. But she did not relent.
+
+Presently he looked up and fixed his haggard eyes upon her.
+
+"Mother," he said, in hoarse and unnatural tones, "you have had your
+say; now let me have mine. I know too well what you believe. You think,
+because of a slight dispute which arose between us on that day, that I
+had some grudge against my brother. I solemnly declare to you that that
+is not true. Richard and I had differed; but we met--in the wood"--(he
+drew his breath painfully)--"a few minutes only before that terrible
+mistake of mine; and we were friends again. Mother, do you know me so
+ill as to think that I could ever have lifted my hand against Richard,
+who was always a friend to me, always far kinder than I deserved? It was
+a mistake--a mistake that I'll never, never forgive myself for, and that
+you, perhaps, never will forgive--but, at any rate, do me the justice to
+believe that it was a mistake, and not--not--that I was Richard's
+murderer!"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell sat silent, motionless, her white hands crossed before her
+on the crape of her black gown. Brian threw himself impetuously on his
+knees before her and looked up into her face.
+
+"Mother, mother!" he said, "do you not believe me?"
+
+It seemed to him a long time--it was, in reality, not more than ten or
+twelve seconds--before Mrs. Luttrell answered his question. "Do you not
+believe me?" he had said. And she answered--
+
+"No."
+
+The shock of finding his passionate appeal so utterly disregarded
+restored to Brian the composure which had failed him before. He rose to
+his feet, pale, stricken, indeed, but calm. For a moment or two he
+averted his face from the woman who judged him so harshly, so
+pitilessly; but when he turned to her again, he had gained a certain
+pride of bearing which compelled her unwilling respect.
+
+"If that is your final answer," he said, "I can say nothing more.
+Perhaps the day will come when you will understand me better. In the
+meantime, I shall be glad to hear whether you have any plans which I can
+assist you in carrying out."
+
+"None in which I require your assistance," said Mrs. Luttrell, stonily.
+"I have my jointure; I can live upon that. I will leave Netherglen to
+you. I will take a cottage for myself--and Angela."
+
+"And Angela?"
+
+"Angela remains with me. You may remember that she has no home, except
+with friends who are not always as kind to her as they might be. Her
+brother is not a wealthy man, and has no house of his own. Under these
+circumstances, and considering what she has lost, it would be mere
+justice if I offered her a home. Henceforth she is my daughter."
+
+"You have asked her to stay, and she has consented?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"And you thought--you think--of taking a home for yourselves?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I suppose you do not object," said Brian, slowly, "to the gossip to
+which such a step on your part is sure to give rise?"
+
+"I have not considered the matter. Gossip will not touch me."
+
+"No." Brian would not for worlds have said that the step she
+contemplated taking would be disastrous for him. Yet for one moment, he
+could not banish the consciousness that all the world would now have
+good reason to believe that his mother held him guilty of his brother's
+death. He did not know that the world suspected him already.
+
+It was with an unmoved front that he presently continued.
+
+"I, myself, had a proposition to make which would perhaps render it
+needless for you to leave Netherglen, which, as you say, is legally your
+own. You may not have considered that I am hardly likely to have much
+love for the place after what has occurred in it. You know that neither
+you nor I can sell any portion of the property--even you would not care
+to let it, I suppose, to strangers for the present. I think of going
+abroad--probably probably for some years. I have always wanted to
+travel. The house on the Strathleckie side of the property can be let;
+and as for Netherglen, it would be an advantage for the place if you
+made it your home for as many months in the year as you chose. I don't
+see why you should not do so. I shall not return to this neighbourhood."
+
+"It does not seem to occur to you," said Mrs. Luttrell, in measured
+tones, "that Angela and I may also have an objection to residing in a
+place which will henceforth have so many painful memories attached to
+it."
+
+"If that is the case," said Brian, after a little pause, "there is no
+more to be said."
+
+"I will ask Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell, stretching out her hand to a
+little handbell which stood upon the table at her side.
+
+Brian started. "Then I will come to you again," he said, moving hastily
+to the door. "I will see you after lunch."
+
+"Pray do not go," said his mother, giving two very decisive strokes of
+the bell by means of a pressure of her firm, white fingers. "Let us
+settle the matter while we are about it. There will be no need of a
+second interview."
+
+"But Angela will not want to see me."
+
+"Angela----Ask Miss Vivian to come to me at once if she can" (to the
+maid who appeared at the door)--"Angela expressed a wish to see you this
+morning."
+
+Brian stood erect by the mantelpiece, biting his lips under his soft,
+brown moustache, and very much disposed to take the matter into his own
+hands, and walk straight out of the room. But some time or other Angela
+must be faced; perhaps as well now as at any other time. He waited,
+therefore, in silence, until the door opened and Angela appeared.
+
+"Brian!" said the soft voice, in as kind and sisterly a tone as he had
+ever heard from her.
+
+"Brian!"
+
+She was close to him, but he dared not look up until she took his
+unresisting hand in hers and held it tenderly. Then he raised his head a
+very little and looked at her.
+
+She had always been pale, but now she was snow-white, and the extreme
+delicacy and even fragility of her appearance were thrown into strong
+relief by the dead black of her mourning gown. Her eyes were full of
+tears, and her lips were quivering; but Brian knew in a moment, by
+instinct, that she at least believed in the innocence of his heart,
+although his hand had taken his brother's life. He stooped down and
+kissed the hand that held his own, so humbly, so sorrowfully, that
+Angela's heart yearned over him. She understood him, and she had room,
+even in her great grief, to be sorry for him too. And when he withdrew
+his hand and turned away from her with one deep sob that he did not know
+how to repress, she tried to comfort him.
+
+"Dear Brian," she said, "I know--I understand. Poor fellow! it is very
+hard for you. It is hard for us all; but I think it is hardest of all
+for you."
+
+"I would have given my life for his, Angela," said Brian, in a smothered
+voice.
+
+"I know you would. I know you loved him," said Angela, the tears
+streaming now down her pale cheeks. "There is only one thing for us to
+say, Brian--It was God's will that he should go."
+
+"How you must hate the sight of me," groaned Brian. He had almost
+forgotten the presence of Mrs. Luttrell, whose hard, watchful eyes were
+taking notice of every detail of the scene.
+
+"I will not trouble you long; I am going to leave Scotland; I will go
+far away; you shall never see my face again."
+
+"But I should be sorry for that," said Angela's soft, caressing voice,
+into which a tremor stole from time to time that made it doubly sweet.
+"I shall want to see you again. Promise me that you will come back,
+Brian--some day."
+
+"Some day?" he repeated, mournfully. "Well, some day, Angela, when you
+can look on me without so much pain as you must needs feel now, any day
+when you have need of me. But, as I am going so very soon, will you tell
+me yourself whether Netherglen is a place that you hold in utter
+abhorrence now? Would it hurt you to make Netherglen your home? Could
+you and my mother find happiness--or at least peace--if you lived here
+together? or would it be too great a trial for you to bear?"
+
+"It rests with you to decide, Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell from her sofa.
+"I have no choice; it signifies little to me whether I go or stay. If it
+would pain you to live at Netherglen, say so; and we will choose another
+home."
+
+"Pain me?" said Angela. "To stay here--in Richard's home?"
+
+"Would you dislike it?" asked Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+The girl came to her side, and put her arms round the mother's neck.
+Mrs. Luttrell's face softened curiously as she did so; she laid one of
+her hands upon Angela's shining hair with a caressing movement.
+
+"Dislike it? It would be my only happiness," said Angela. She stopped,
+and then went on with soft vehemence--"To think that I was in his house,
+that I looked on the things that he used to see every day, that I could
+sometimes do the thing that he would have liked to see me doing--it is
+all I could wish for, all that life could give me now! Yes, yes, let us
+stay."
+
+"It's perhaps not so good for you as one might wish," said Mrs.
+Luttrell, regarding her tenderly. "You had perhaps better have a change
+for a time; there is no reason why you should live for ever in the past,
+like an old woman, Angela. The day will come when you may wish to make
+new ties for yourself--new interests----"
+
+Angela's whisper reached her ear alone.
+
+"'Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after
+thee,'" she murmured in the words of the widowed Moabitess, "'for
+whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people, and thy God my God...'"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell clasped her in her arms and kissed her forehead. Then
+after a little pause she said to Brian--
+
+"We will stay."
+
+Brian bowed his head.
+
+"I will make all necessary arrangements with Mr. Colquhoun, and send him
+to you," he said. "I think there is nothing else about which we have to
+speak?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily.
+
+"Except Hugo. As I am going away from home for so long I think it would
+be better if I settled a certain sum in the Funds upon him, so that he
+might have a moderate income as well as his pay. Does that meet with
+your approval?"
+
+"My approval matters very little, but you can do as you choose with your
+own money. I suppose you wish that this house should be kept open for
+him?"
+
+"That is as you please. He would be better for a home. May I ask what
+Angela thinks?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Angela, lifting her face slowly from Mrs. Luttrell's
+shoulder. "He must not feel that he has lost a home, must he, mother?"
+She pronounced the title which Mrs. Luttrell had begged her to bestow,
+still with a certain diffidence and hesitancy; but Mrs. Luttrell's brow
+smoothed when she heard it.
+
+"We will do what we can for him," she said.
+
+"He has not been very steady of late," Brian went on slowly, wondering
+whether he was right to conceal Hugo's misdeeds and evil tendencies. "I
+hope he will improve; you will have patience with him if he is not very
+wise. And now, will you let me say good-bye to you? I shall leave
+Netherglen to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?" said Angela, wonderingly. "Why should you go so soon?"
+
+"It is better so," Brian answered.
+
+"But we shall know where you are. You will write?"
+
+His eyes sought his mother's face. She would not look at him. He spoke
+in an unnaturally quiet voice, "I do not know."
+
+"Mother, will you not tell him to write to you?" said Angela.
+
+The mother sat silent, unresponsive. It was plain that she cared for no
+letter from this son of hers.
+
+"I will leave my address with Mr. Colquhoun, Angela," said Brian,
+forcing a slight, sad smile. "If there is business for me to transact,
+he will be able to let me know. I shall hear from him how you all are,
+from time to time."
+
+"Will you not write to me, then?" said Angela.
+
+Brian darted an inquiring glance at her. Oh, what divine pity, what
+sublime forgetfulness of self, gleamed out of those tender,
+tear-reddened eyes!
+
+"Will you let me?" he said, almost timidly.
+
+"I should like you to write. I shall look for your letters, Brian. Don't
+forget that I shall be anxious for news of you."
+
+Almost without knowing what he did, he sank down on his knees before
+her, and touched her hand reverently with his lips. She bent forward and
+kissed his forehead as a sister might have done.
+
+"God bless you, Angela!" he said. He could not utter another word.
+
+"Mother," said the girl, taking in hers the passive hand of the woman,
+who had sat with face averted--perhaps so that she should not meet the
+eyes of the man whom she could not forgive--"mother, speak to him; say
+good-bye to him before he goes."
+
+The mother's hand trembled and tried to withdraw itself, but Angela
+would not let it go.
+
+"One kind word to him, mother," she said. "See, he is kneeling before
+you. Only look at him and you will see how he has suffered! Don't let
+him go away from you without one word."
+
+She guided Mrs. Luttrell's hand to Brian's head; and there for a moment
+it rested heavily. Then she spoke.
+
+"If I have been unjust, may God forgive me!" she said.
+
+Then she withdrew her hand and rose from her seat. She did not even look
+behind her as she walked to the bed-room door, pushed it open, entered,
+and closed it, and turned the key in the old-fashioned lock. She had
+said all that she meant to say: no power, human or divine, should wrest
+another word from her just then. But in her heart she was crying over
+and over again the words that had been upon her lips a hundred times to
+say.
+
+"He is no son of mine--no son of mine--this man by whose hand Richard
+Luttrell fell. I am childless. Both my sons are dead."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A FAREWELL.
+
+
+There was a little, sunny, green walk opposite the dining-room windows,
+edged on either side by masses of white and crimson phlox and a row of
+sunflowers, where the gentlemen of the house were in the habit of taking
+their morning stroll and smoking their first cigar. It was here that
+Hugo was slowly pacing up and down when Brian Luttrell came out of the
+house in search of him.
+
+Hugo gave him a searching glance as he approached, and was not
+reassured. Brian's face wore a curiously restrained expression, which
+gave it a look of sternness. Hugo's heart beat fast; he threw away the
+end of his cigar, and advanced to meet his cousin with an air of
+unconcern which was evidently assumed for the occasion. It passed
+unremarked, however. Brian was in no mood for considering Hugo's
+expression of countenance.
+
+They took two or three turns up and down the garden walk without
+uttering a word. Brian was absorbed in thought, and Hugo had his own
+reasons for being afraid to open his mouth. It was Brian who spoke at
+last.
+
+"Come away from the house," he said. "I want to speak to you, and we
+can't talk easily underneath all these windows. We'll go down to the
+loch."
+
+"Not to the loch," said Hugo, hastily.
+
+Brian considered a moment. "You are right," he said, in a low tone, "we
+won't go there. Come this way." For the moment he had forgotten that
+painful scene at the boat-house, which no doubt made Hugo shrink
+sensitively from the sight of the place. He was sorry that he had
+suggested it.
+
+The day was calm and mild, but not brilliant. The leaves of the trees
+had taken on an additional tinge of autumnal yellow and red since Brian
+last looked at them with an observant eye. For the past week he had
+thought of nothing but of the intolerable grief and pain that had come
+upon him. But now the peace and quiet of the day stole upon him
+unawares; there was a restfulness in the sight of the steadfast hills,
+of the waving trees--a sense of tranquility even in the fall of the
+yellowing leaves and the flight of the migrating song-birds overhead.
+His eye grew calmer, his brow more smooth, as he walked silently onward;
+he drew a long breath, almost like one of relief; then he stopped short,
+and leaned against the trunk of a tall fir tree, looking absently before
+him, as though he had forgotten the reason for his proposed interview
+with his cousin. Hugo grew impatient. They had left the garden, and were
+walking down a grassy little-trodden lane between two tracks of wooded
+ground; it led to the tiny hamlet at the head of the loch, and thence to
+the high road. Hugo wondered whether the conversation were to be held
+upon the public highway or in the lane. If it had to do with his own
+private affairs, he felt that he would prefer the lane. But he dared not
+precipitate matters by speaking.
+
+Brian recollected his purpose at last, however. After a short interval
+of silence he turned his eyes upon Hugo, who was standing near him, and
+said, gently--
+
+"Sit down, won't you?--then we can talk."
+
+There was a fallen log on the ground. Hugo took his seat on it meekly
+enough, but continued his former occupation of digging up, with the
+point of a stick that he was carrying, the roots of all the plants
+within his reach. He was so much absorbed by this pursuit that he seemed
+hardly to attend to the next words that Brian spoke.
+
+"I ought, perhaps, to have had a talk with you before," he said.
+"Matters have been in a very unsettled state, as you well know. But
+there are one or two points that ought to be settled without delay."
+
+Hugo ceased his work of destruction; and apparently disposed himself to
+listen.
+
+"First, your own affairs. You have hitherto had an allowance, I
+believe--how much?"
+
+"Two hundred," said Hugo, sulkily, "since I joined."
+
+"And your pay. And you could not make that sufficient?"
+
+Hugo's face flushed, he did not answer. He sat still, looking sullenly
+at the ground. Brian waited for a little while, and then went on.
+
+"I don't want to preach, old fellow, but you know I can't help thinking
+that, by a little decent care and forethought, you ought to have made
+that do. Still, it's no good my saying so, is it? What is done cannot be
+undone--would God it could!"
+
+He stopped short again: his voice had grown hoarse. Hugo, with the dusky
+red still tingeing his delicate, dark face, hung his head and made no
+reply.
+
+"One can but try to do better for the future," said Brian, somewhat
+unsteadily, after that moment's pause. "Hugo, dear boy, will you promise
+that, at least?"
+
+He put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. Hugo tried to shrink away,
+then, finding this impossible, averted his face and partly hid it with
+his hands.
+
+"It's no good making vague promises," he said by-and-bye. "What do you
+mean? If you want me to promise to live on my pay or anything of that
+sort----"
+
+"Nothing of that sort," Brian interrupted him. "Only, that you will act
+honourably and straightforwardly--that you will not touch what is not
+your own----"
+
+Hugo shook off the kindly hand and started up with something like an
+oath upon his lips. "Why are you always talking about that affair! I
+thought it was past and done with," he said, turning his back upon his
+cousin, and switching the grass savagely with his cane.
+
+"Always talking about it! Be reasonable, Hugo."
+
+"It was only because I was at my wits' end for money," said the lad,
+irritably. "And that came in my way, and--I had never taken any
+before----"
+
+"And never will again," said Brian. "That's what I want to hear you
+say."
+
+But Hugo would say nothing. He stood, the impersonation of silent
+obstinacy, digging the end of his stick into the earth, or striking at
+the blue bells and the brambles within reach, resolved to utter no word
+which Brian could twist into any sort of promise for the future. He knew
+that his silence might injure his prospects, by lowering him in Brian's
+estimation--Brian being now the arbiter of his fate--but for all that he
+could not bring himself to make submission or to profess penitence.
+Something made the words stick in his throat; no power on earth would at
+that moment have forced him to speak.
+
+"Well," said Brian at last, in a tone which showed deep disappointment,
+"I am sorry that you won't go so far, Hugo. I hope you will do well,
+however, without professions. Still, I should have been better satisfied
+to have your word for it--before I left Netherglen."
+
+"Where are you going?" said Hugo, suddenly facing him.
+
+"I don't quite know."
+
+"To London?"
+
+"No, Abroad."
+
+"Abroad?" repeated Hugo, with a wondering accent. "Why should you go
+abroad?"
+
+"That's my own business."
+
+"But--but--" said the lad, flushing and paling, and stammering with
+eagerness, "I thought that you would stay here, and that Netherglen and
+everything would belong to you, and--and----"
+
+"And that I should shoot, and fish, and ride, and disport myself gaily
+over my brother's inheritance--that my own hand deprived him of!" cried
+Brian, with angry bitterness. "It is so likely! Is it you who have no
+feeling, or do you fancy that I have none?"
+
+"But the place is yours," faltered Hugo, with a guilty look,
+"Strathleckie is yours, if Netherglen is not."
+
+"Mine! Yes, it is mine after a fashion," said Brian, while a hot, red
+flush crept up to his forehead, and his brows contracted painfully over
+his sad, dark eyes. "It is mine by law; mine by my father's will; and if
+it had come into my hands by any other way--if my brother had not died
+through my own carelessness--I suppose that I might have learnt to enjoy
+it like any other man. But as it is--I wish that every acre of it were
+at the bottom of the loch, and I there, too, for the matter of that! I
+have made up my mind that I will not benefit by Richard's death. Others
+may have the use of his wealth, but I am the last that should touch it.
+I will have the two or three hundred a year that he used to give me, and
+I will have nothing more."
+
+Hugo's face had grown pale. He looked more dismayed by this utterance
+than by anything that Brian as yet had said. He opened his lips once or
+twice before he could find his voice, and it was in curiously rough and
+broken tones that he at length asked a question.
+
+"Is this because of what people say about--about you--and--Richard?"
+
+He seemed to find it difficult to pronounce the dead man's name. Brian
+lifted up his face.
+
+"What do people say about me and Richard, then?" he said.
+
+Hugo retreated a little.
+
+"If you don't know," he said, looking down miserably, "I can't tell
+you."
+
+Brian's eyes blazed with sudden wrath.
+
+"You have said too little or too much," he said. "I must know the rest.
+What is it that people say?"
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"No, I do not know. Out with it."
+
+"I can't tell you," said Hugo, biting his lips. "Don't ask me, ask
+someone else. Anyone."
+
+"Is 'anyone' sure to know? I will hear it from you, and from no one
+else. What do people say?"
+
+Hugo looked up at him and then down again. The struggle that was waging
+between the powers of good and evil in his soul had its effect even on
+his outer man. His very lips turned white as he considered what he
+should say.
+
+Brian noted this change of colour, and was moved by it, thinking that he
+understood Hugo's reluctance to give him pain. He subdued his own
+impatience, and spoke in a lower, quieter voice.
+
+"Don't take it to heart, Hugo, whatever it may be. It cannot be worse
+than the thing I have heard already--from my mother. I don't suppose I
+shall mind it much. They say, perhaps, that I--that I shot my
+brother"--(in spite of himself, Brian's voice trembled with passionate
+indignation)--"that I killed Richard purposely--knowing what I did--in
+order to possess myself of this miserable estate of his--is that what
+they say?"
+
+Hugo answered by a bare little monosyllable--
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who says this?"
+
+"Everyone. The whole country side."
+
+"Then--if this is believed so generally--why have no steps been taken to
+prove my guilt? Good God, my guilt! Why should I not be prosecuted at
+once for murder?"
+
+"There would be no evidence, they say." Hugo murmured, uneasily. "It is
+simply a matter of assertion; you say you shot at a bird, not seeing
+him, and they say that you must have known that he was there. That is
+all."
+
+"A matter of assertion! Well, they are right so far. If they don't
+believe my word, there is no more to be said," replied Brian, sadly, his
+excitement suddenly forsaking him. "Only I never thought that my word
+would even be asked for on such a subject by people who had known me all
+my life. You don't doubt me, do you, Hugo?"
+
+"How could I?" said Hugo, in a voice so low and shaken that Brian could
+scarcely hear the words. But he felt instinctively that the lad's trust
+in him, on that one point, at least, had not wavered, and with a warm
+thrill of affection and gratitude he held out his hand. It gave him a
+rude shock to see that Hugo drew back and would not take it.
+
+"What! you don't trust me after all?" he said, quickly.
+
+"I--I do," cried Hugo, "but--what does it matter what I think? I'm not
+fit to take your hand--I cannot--I cannot----"
+
+His emotion was so genuine that Brian felt some surprise, and also some
+compunction for having distrusted him before.
+
+"Dear Hugo," he said, gently, "I shall know you better now. We have
+always been friends; don't forget that we are friends still, although I
+may be on the other side of the world. I'm going to try and lose myself
+in some out-of-the-way place, and live where nobody will ever know my
+story, but I shall be rather glad to think sometimes that, at any rate,
+you understand what I felt about poor Richard--that you never once
+misjudged me--I won't forget it, Hugo, I assure you."
+
+He pressed Hugo's still reluctant hand, and then made him sit down
+beside him upon the fallen tree.
+
+"We must talk business now," he said, more cheerfully--though it was a
+sad kind of cheerfulness after all--"for we have not much time left. I
+hear the luncheon-bell already. Shall we finish our talk first? You
+don't care for luncheon? No more do I. Where had we got to? Only to the
+initial step--that I was going abroad. I have several other things to
+explain to you."
+
+His eyes looked out into the distance as he spoke; his voice lost its
+forced cheerfulness, and became immeasurably grave and sad. Hugo
+listened with hidden face. He did not care to turn his gloomy brows and
+anxiously-twitching lips towards the speaker.
+
+"I shall never come back to Scotland," said Brian, slowly. "To England I
+may come some day, but it will be after many years. My mother has the
+management of Strathleckie; as well as of Netherglen, which belongs to
+her. She will live here, and use the house and dispose of the revenues
+as she pleases. Angela remains with her."
+
+"But if you marry----"
+
+"I shall never marry. My life is spoilt--ruined. I could not ask any
+woman to share it with me. I shall be a wanderer on the face of the
+earth--like Cain."
+
+"No, no!" cried Hugo, passionately. "Not like Cain. There is no curse on
+you----"
+
+"Not even my mother's curse? I am not sure," said Brian. "I shall be a
+wanderer, at any rate; so much is certain: living on my three hundred a
+year, very comfortably, no doubt; until this life is over, and I come
+out clear on the other side----"
+
+Hugo lifted his face. "You don't mean," he whispered, with a look of
+terrified suspicion, "that you would ever lay hands on yourself, and
+shorten your life in that way?"
+
+"Why, no. What makes you think that I should choose such a course? I
+hope I am not a coward," said Brian, simply. "No, I shall live out my
+days somewhere--somehow; but there is no harm in wishing that they were
+over."
+
+There was a pause. The dreamy expression of Brian's eyes seemed to
+betoken that his thoughts were far away. Hugo moved his stick nervously
+through the grass at his feet. He could not look up.
+
+"What else have you to tell me?" he said at last.
+
+"Do you know the way in which Strathleckie was settled?" said Brian,
+quietly, coming down to earth from some high vision of other worlds and
+other lives than ours. "Do you know that my grandfather made a curious
+will about it?"
+
+"No," said Hugo. It was false, for he knew the terms of the will quite
+well; but he thought it more becoming to profess ignorance.
+
+"This place belonged to my mother's father. It was left to her children
+and their direct heirs; failing heirs, it reverts to a member of her
+family, a man of the name of Gordon Murray. We have no power to alienate
+any portion of it. The rents are ours, the house and lands are ours, for
+our lives only. If we die, you see, without children, the property goes
+to these Murrays."
+
+"Cousins of yours, are they?"
+
+"Second cousins. I have never troubled myself about the exact degree of
+relationship until within the last day or two. I find that Gordon Murray
+would be my second cousin once removed, and that his child or
+children--he has more than one, I believe--would, therefore, be my third
+cousins. A little while ago I should have thought it highly improbable
+that any of the Gordon Murrays would ever come into possession of
+Strathleckie, but it is not at all improbable now."
+
+"Where do these Murrays live?"
+
+"In London, I think. I am not sure. I have asked Colquhoun to find out
+all that he can about them. If there is a young fellow in the family, it
+might be well to let him know his prospects and invite him down. I could
+settle an income on him if he were poor. Then the estate would benefit
+somebody."
+
+"You can do as you like with the income," said Hugo.
+
+The words escaped him half against his will. He stole a glance at Brian
+when they were uttered, as if anxious to ascertain whether or no his
+cousin had divined his own grudging, envious thoughts. He heartily
+wished that Richard's money had come to him. In Brian's place it would
+never have crossed his mind that he should throw away the good fortune
+that had fallen to his lot. If only he were in this lucky young Murray's
+shoes!
+
+Brian did not guess the thoughts that passed through Hugo's mind, but
+that murmured speech reminded him of another point which he wished to
+make quite clear.
+
+"Yes, I can do what I like with the income," he said, "and also with a
+sum of money that my father invested many years ago which nobody has
+touched at present. There are twelve thousand pounds in the Funds, part
+of which I propose to settle upon you so as to make you more independent
+of my help in the future."
+
+Hugo stammered out something a little incoherent; it was a proposition
+which took him completely by surprise. Brian continued quietly--
+
+"Of course, I might continue the allowance that you have had hitherto,
+but then, in the event of my death, it would cease, for I cannot leave
+it to you by will. I have thought that it would be better, therefore, to
+transfer to you six thousand pounds, Hugo, over which you have complete
+control. All I ask is that you won't squander it. Colquhoun says that he
+can safely get you five per cent for it. I would put it in his hands, if
+I were you. It will then bring you in three hundred a year."
+
+"Brian, you are too good to me," said Hugo. There were tears in his
+eyes; his voice trembled and his cheek flushed as he spoke "You don't
+know----"
+
+Then he stopped and covered his face with his hands. A very unwonted
+feeling of shame and regret overpowered him; it was as much as he could
+do to refrain from crying like a child. "I can't thank you," he said,
+with a sob which made Brian smile a little, and lay his hand
+affectionately on his shoulder.
+
+"Don't thank me, dear boy," he said. "It's very little to do for you;
+but it will perhaps help to keep you out of difficulties. And if you are
+in any trouble, go to Colquhoun. I will tell him how far he may go on
+helping you, and you can trust him. He shall not even tell me what you
+say to him, if you don't wish me to know. But, for Heaven's sake, Hugo,
+try to keep straight, and bring no disgrace upon our name. I have done
+what I could for you--I may do more, if necessary; but there are
+circumstances in which I should not be able to help you at all, and you
+know what those are."
+
+He thought that he understood Hugo's impulsive disposition, but even he
+was not prepared for the burst of passionate remorse and affection with
+which the boy threw himself almost at his feet, kissing his hands and
+sobbing out promises of amendment with all the abandonment of his
+Southern nature. Brian was inclined to be displeased with this want of
+self-control; he spoke sharply at last and told him to command himself.
+But some time elapsed before Hugo regained his calmness. And when Brian
+returned to the house, he could not induce his cousin to return with
+him; the young fellow wandered away through the woods with drooping head
+and dejected mien, and was seen no more till late at night.
+
+He came back to the house too late to say good-bye to Brian, who had
+left a few lines of farewell for him. His absence, perhaps, added a pang
+to the keen pain with which Brian left his home; but if so, no trace of
+it was discernible in the kindly words which he had addressed to his
+cousin. He saw neither his mother nor Angela before he went; indeed, he
+avoided any formal parting from the household in general, and let it be
+thought that he was likely to return in a short time. But as he took
+from his groom the reins of the dog-cart in which he was about to drive
+down to the station, he looked round him sadly and lingeringly, with a
+firm conviction at his heart that never again would his eyes rest upon
+the shining loch, the purple hills, and the ivy-grown, grey walls of
+Netherglen. Never again. He had said his last farewell. He had no home
+now!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+IN GOWER-STREET.
+
+
+Angela Vivian's brother Rupert was, perhaps, not unlike her in feature
+and colouring, but there was a curious dissimilarity of expression
+between the two. Angela's dark, grey eyes had a sweetness in which
+Rupert's were lacking; the straight, regular features, which with her
+were brightened by a tender play of emotion, were, with him, cold and
+grave. The mouth was a fastidious one; the bearing of the man, though
+full of distinction, could sometimes be almost repellantly haughty. The
+merest sketch of him would not be complete unless we added that his
+dress was faultless, and that he was apt to bestow a somewhat finical
+care upon the minor details of his toilet.
+
+It was in October, when "everybody" was still supposed to be out of
+town, that Rupert Vivian walked composedly down Gower-street meditating
+on the news which the latest post had brought him. In sheer absence of
+mind he almost passed the house at which he had been intending to call,
+and he stood for a minute or two upon the steps, as if not quite sure
+whether or no he would enter. Finally, however, he knocked at the door
+and rang the bell, then prepared himself, with a resigned air, to wait
+until it should be opened. He had never yet found that a first summons
+gained him admittance to that house.
+
+After waiting five minutes and knocking twice, a slatternly maid
+appeared and asked him to walk upstairs. Rupert followed her leisurely;
+he knew very well what sort of reception to expect, and was not
+surprised when she merely opened the drawing-room door, and left him to
+announce himself. "No ceremony" was the rule in the Herons' household,
+and very objectionable Rupert Vivian sometimes found it.
+
+The day had been foggy and dark, and a bright fire threw a cheerful
+light over the scene which presented itself to Rupert's eyes. A pleasant
+clinking of spoons and cups and saucers met his ear. He stood at the
+door for a moment unobserved, listening and looking on. He was a
+privileged person in that house, and considered himself quite at liberty
+to look and listen if he chose.
+
+The room had an air of comfort verging upon luxury, but if was untidy to
+a degree which Rupert thought disgraceful. For the rich hues of the
+curtains, the artistic character of the Japanese screens and Oriental
+embroideries, the exquisite landscape-paintings on the walls, were
+compatible with grave deficiencies in the list of more ordinary articles
+of furniture. There were two or three picturesque, high-backed chairs,
+made of rosewood (black with age) and embossed leather, but the rest of
+the seats consisted of divans, improvised by ingenious fingers out of
+packing-boxes and cushions covered with Morris chintzes; or brown
+Windsor chairs, evidently imported straight from the kitchen. A battered
+old writing-desk had an incongruous look when placed next to a costly
+buhl clock on a table inlaid indeed with mother-of-pearl, but wanting in
+one leg; and so no valuable blue china was apt to pass unobserved upon
+the mantelpiece because it was generally found in company with a child's
+mug, a plate of crusts, or a painting-rag. A grand piano stood open, and
+was strewn with sheets of music; two sketching portfolios conspicuously
+adorned the hearth-rug. A tea-table was drawn up near the fire, and the
+firelight was reflected pleasantly in the gleaming silver and porcelain
+of the tea-service.
+
+The human elements of the scene were very diverse. Mrs. Heron, a
+languid-looking, fair-haired woman, lay at full length on one of the
+divans. Her step-daughter, Kitty, sat at the tea-table, and Kitty's
+elder brother, Percival, a tall, broad-shouldered young man of
+eight-and-twenty, was leaning against the mantelpiece. A girl, who
+looked about twenty-one years of age was sitting in the deepest shadow
+of the room. The firelight played upon her hands, which lay quietly
+folded before her in her lap, but it did not touch her face. Two or
+three children were playing about the floor with their toys and a white
+fox-terrier. The young man was talking very fast, two at least of the
+ladies were laughing, the children were squabbling and shouting. It was
+a Babel. As Rupert stood at the door he caught the sense of Percival's
+last rapid sentences.
+
+"No right nor wrong in the case. You must allow me to say that you take
+an exclusively feminine view of the matter, which, of course, is narrow.
+I have as much right to sell my brains to the highest bidder as my
+friend Vivian has to sell his pictures when he gets the chance--which
+isn't often."
+
+"There is nothing like the candour of an impartial friend," said Rupert,
+good-humouredly, as he advanced into the room. "Allow me to tell you
+that I sold my last painting this morning. How do you do, Mrs. Heron?"
+
+His appearance produced a lull in the storm. Percival ceased to talk and
+looked slightly--very slightly--disconcerted. Mrs. Heron half rose;
+Kitty made a raid upon the children's toys, and carried some of them to
+the other end of the room, whither the tribe followed her, lamenting.
+Then, Percival laughed aloud.
+
+"Where did you come from?" he said, in a round, mellow, genial voice,
+which was singularly pleasant to the ear. "'Listeners hear no good of
+themselves.' You've proved the proverb."
+
+"Not for the first time when you are the speaker. I have found that out.
+How are you, Kitty? Good evening, Miss Murray."
+
+"How good of you to come to see us, Mr. Vivian!" said Mrs. Heron, in a
+low, sweetly-modulated voice, as she held out one long, white hand to
+her visitor. She re-arranged her draperies a little, and lay back
+gracefully when she had spoken. Rupert had never seen her do anything
+but lie on sofas in graceful attitudes since he first made her
+acquaintance. It was her _métier_. Nobody expected anything else from
+her except vague, theoretic talk, which she called philosophy. She had
+been Kitty's governess in days gone by. Mr. Heron, an artist of some
+repute, married her when he had been a widower for twelve months only.
+Since that time she had become the mother of three handsome, but
+decidedly noisy, children, and had lapsed by degrees into the life of a
+useless, fine lady, to whom household cares and the duties of a mother
+were mere drudgery, and were left to fall as much as possible on the
+shoulders of other people. Nevertheless, Mrs. Heron's selfishness was of
+a gentle and even loveable type. She was seldom out of humour, rarely
+worried or fretful; she was only persistently idle, and determined to
+consider herself in feeble health.
+
+Vivian's acquaintance with the Herons dated from his first arrival in
+London, six years ago, when he boarded with them for a few months. The
+disorder of the household had proved too great a trial to his fastidious
+tastes to be borne for a longer space of time. He had, however, formed a
+firm friendship with the whole family, especially with Percival; and for
+the last three or four years the two young men had occupied rooms in the
+same house and virtually lived together. To anyone who knew the
+characters of the friends, their friendship was somewhat remarkable.
+Vivian's fault was an excess of polish and refinement; he attached
+unusual value to matters of mere taste and culture. Possibly this was
+the link which really attached him to Percival Heron, who was a man of
+considerable intellectual power, although possessed sometimes by a sort
+of irrepressible brusqueness and roughness of manner, with which he
+could make himself exceedingly disagreeable even to his friends.
+Percival was taller, stronger, broader about the shoulders, deeper in
+the chest, than Vivian--in fact, a handsomer man in all respects.
+Well-cut features, pale, but healthy-looking; brilliant, restless, dark
+eyes; thick brown hair and moustache; a well-knit, vigorous frame, which
+gave no sign as yet of the stoutness to which it inclined in later
+years, these were points that made his appearance undeniably striking
+and attractive. A physiognomist might, however, have found something to
+blame as well as to praise in his features. There was an ominous upright
+line between the dark brows, which surely told of a variable temper; the
+curl of the laughing lips, and the fall of the heavy moustache only half
+concealed a curious over-sensitiveness in the lines of the too mobile
+mouth. It was not the face of a great thinker nor of a great saint, but
+of a humorous, quick-witted, impatient man, of wide intelligence, and
+very irritable nervous organisation.
+
+The air of genial hilarity which he could sometimes wear was doubtless
+attractive to a man of Vivian's reserved temperament. Percival's
+features beamed with good humour--he laughed with his whole heart when
+anything amused him. Vivian used to look at him in wonder sometimes, and
+think that Percival was more like a great overgrown boy than a man of
+eight-and-twenty. On the other hand, Percival said that Vivian was a
+prig.
+
+Kitty, sitting at the tea-table, did not think so. She loved her brother
+very much, but she considered Mr. Vivian a hero, a demigod, something a
+little lower, perhaps, than the angels, but not very much. Kitty was
+only sixteen, which accounts, possibly, for her delusion on this
+subject. She was slim, and round, and white, with none of the usual
+awkwardness of her age about her. She had a well-set, graceful little
+head, and small, piquant features; her complexion had not much colour,
+but her pretty lips showed the smallest and pearliest of teeth when she
+smiled, and her dark eyes sparkled and danced under the thin, dark curve
+of her eyebrows and the shade of her long, curling lashes. Then her hair
+would not on any account lie straight, but disposed itself in dainty
+tendrils and love-locks over her forehead, which gave her almost a
+childish look, and was a serious trouble to Miss Kitty herself, who
+preferred her step-mother's abundant flaxen plaits, and did not know the
+charm that those soft rings of curling hair lent to her irregular,
+little face.
+
+Vivian took a cup of tea from her with an indulgent smile, He liked
+Kitty extremely well. He lent her books sometimes, which she did not
+always read. I am afraid that he tried to form her mind. Kitty had a
+mind of her own, which did not want forming. Perhaps Percival Heron, was
+right when he said that Vivian was a prig. He certainly liked to lecture
+Kitty; and she used to look up at him with great, grave eyes when he was
+lecturing, and pretend to understand what he was saying. She very often
+did not understand a word; but Rupert never suspected that. He thought
+that Kitty was a very simple-minded little person.
+
+"There was quite an argument going on when you appeared, Mr. Vivian,"
+said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "It is sometimes a most difficult matter to
+decide what is right and what is wrong. I think you must decide for us."
+
+"I am not skilled in casuistry," said Vivian, smiling. "Is Percival
+giving forth some of his heresies?"
+
+"I was never less heretical in my life," cried Percival. "State your
+case, Bess; I'll give you the precedence."
+
+Vivian turned towards the dark corner.
+
+"It is Miss Murray's difficulty, is it?" he said, with a look of some
+interest. "I shall be glad to hear it."
+
+The girl in the dark corner stirred a little uneasily, but she spoke
+with no trepidation of manner, and her voice was clear and cool.
+
+"The question," she said, "is whether a man may write articles in a
+daily paper, advocating views which are not his own, simply because they
+are the views of the editor. I call it dishonesty."
+
+"So do I," said Kitty, warmly.
+
+"Dishonesty? Not a bit of it," rejoined Percival. "The writer is the
+mouthpiece of the paper, which advocates certain views; he sinks his
+individuality; he does not profess to explain his own opinions. Besides,
+after all, what is dishonesty? Why should people erect honesty into such
+a great virtue? It is like truth-telling and--peaches; nobody wants them
+out of their proper season; they are never good when they are forced."
+
+"I don't see any analogy between truth-telling and peaches," said the
+calm voice from the corner.
+
+"You tell the truth all the year round, don't you, Bess?" said Kitty,
+with a little malice.
+
+"But we are mortal, and don't attempt to practice exotic virtues," said
+Percival, mockingly. "I see no reason why I should not flourish upon
+what is called dishonesty, just as I see no reason why I should not tell
+lies. It is only the diseased sensibility of modern times which condemns
+either."
+
+"Modern times?" said Vivian. "I have heard of a commandment----"
+
+"Good Heavens!" said Percival, throwing back his handsome head, "Vivian
+is going to be didactic! I think this conversation has lasted quite long
+enough. Elizabeth, consider yourself worsted in the argument, and
+contest the point no longer."
+
+"There has been no argument," said Elizabeth. "There has been assertion
+on your part, and indignation on ours; that is all."
+
+"Then am I to consider myself worsted?" asked Percival. But he got no
+answer. Presently, however, he burst out with renewed vigour.
+
+"Right and wrong! What does it mean? I hate the very sound of the words.
+What is right to me is wrong to you, and _vice versa_. It's all a matter
+of convention. 'Now, who shall arbitrate? as Browning says--
+
+      'Now, who shall arbitrate?
+      Ten men love what I hate,
+    Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;
+      Ten, who in ears and eyes
+      Match me; we all surmise,
+    They, this thing, and I, that; whom shall my soul believe?"
+
+The lines rang out boldly upon the listeners' ears. Percival was one of
+the few men who can venture to recite poetry without making themselves
+ridiculous. He continued hotly--
+
+"There is neither truth nor falsehood in the world, and those who aver
+that there is are either impostors or dupes."
+
+"Ah," said Vivian, "you remind me of Bacon's celebrated sentence--'Many
+there be that say with jesting Pilate, What is truth? but do not wait
+for an answer.'"
+
+"I think you have both quoted quite enough," said Kitty, lightly. "You
+forget how little I understand of these deep subjects. I don't know how
+it is, but Percival always says the things most calculated to annoy
+people; he never visits papa's studio without abusing modern art, or
+meets a doctor without sneering at the medical profession, or loses an
+opportunity of telling Elizabeth, who loves truth for its own sake, that
+he enjoys trickery and falsehood, and thinks it clever to tell lies."
+
+"Very well put, Kitty," said Percival, approvingly. "You have hit off
+your brother's amiable character to the life. Like the child in the
+story, I could never tell why people loved me so, but now I know."
+
+There was a general laugh, and also a discordant clatter at the other
+end of the room, where the children, hitherto unnoticed, had come to
+blows over a broken toy.
+
+"What a noise they make!" said Percival, with a frown.
+
+"Perhaps they had better go away," murmured Mrs. Heron, gently. "Dear
+Lizzy, will you look after them a little? They are always good with
+you."
+
+The girl rose and went silently towards the three children, who at once
+clustered round her to pour their woes into her ear. She bent down and
+spoke to them lovingly, as it seemed, and finally quitted the room with
+one child clinging round her neck, and the others hanging to her gown.
+Percival gave vent to a sudden, impatient sigh.
+
+"Miss Murray is fond of children," said Vivian, looking after her
+pleasantly.
+
+"And I am not," snapped Kitty, with something of her brother's love of
+opposition in her tone. "I hate children."
+
+"You! You are only a child yourself," said he, turning towards her with
+a kindly look in his grave eyes, and an unwonted smile. But Kitty's
+wrath was appeased by neither look nor smile.
+
+"Then I had better join my compeers," she said, tartly. "I shall at
+least get the benefit of Elizabeth's affection for children."
+
+Vivian's chair was close to hers, and the tea-table partly hid them from
+Percival's lynx eyes. Mrs. Heron was half asleep. So there was nothing
+to hinder Mr. Rupert Vivian from putting out his hand and taking Kitty's
+soft fingers for a moment soothingly in his own. He did not mean
+anything but an elderly-brotherly, patronising sort of affection by it;
+but Kitty was "thrilled through every nerve" by that tender pressure,
+and sat mute as a mouse, while Vivian turned to her step-mother and
+began to speak.
+
+"I had some news this morning of my sister," he said. "You heard of the
+sad termination to her engagement?"
+
+"No; what was that?"
+
+"She was to be married before Christmas to a Mr. Luttrell; but Mr.
+Luttrell was killed a short time ago by a shot from his brother's gun
+when they were out shooting together."
+
+"How very sad!"
+
+"The brother has gone--or is going--abroad; report says that he takes
+the matter very much to heart. And Angela is going to live with Mrs.
+Luttrell, the mother of these two men. I thought these details might be
+interesting to you," said Vivian, looking round half-questioningly,
+"because I understand that the Luttrells are related to your young
+friend--or cousin--Miss Murray."
+
+"Indeed? I never heard her mention the name," said Mrs. Heron.
+
+Vivian thought of something that he had recently heard in connection
+with Miss Murray and the Luttrell family, and wondered whether she knew
+that if Brian Luttrell died unmarried she would succeed, to a great
+Scotch estate. But he said nothing more.
+
+"Where is Elizabeth?" said Percival, restlessly. "She is a great deal
+too much with these children--they drag the very life out of her. I
+shall go and find her."
+
+He marched away, noting as he went, with much dissatisfaction, that Mrs.
+Heron was inviting Vivian to dinner, and that he was accepting the
+invitation.
+
+He went to the top of the house, where he knew that a room was
+appropriated to the use of the younger children. Here he found Elizabeth
+for once without the three little Herons. She was standing in the middle
+of the room, engaged in the prosaic occupation of folding up a
+table-cloth.
+
+He stood in the doorway looking at her for a minute or two before he
+spoke. She was a tall girl, with fine shoulders, and beautiful arms and
+hands. He noticed them particularly as she held up the cloth, shook it
+out, and folded it. A clear, fine-grained skin, with a colour like that
+of a June rose in her cheeks, well-opened, calm-looking, grey-blue eyes,
+a mass of golden hair, almost too heavy for her head; a well-cut
+profile, and rather stately bearing, made Elizabeth Murray a noticeable
+person even amongst women more strictly beautiful than herself. She was
+poorly and plainly dressed, but poverty and plainness became her,
+throwing into strong relief the beauty of her rose-tints and
+finely-moulded figure. She did not start when she saw Percival at the
+door; she smiled at him frankly, and asked why he had come.
+
+"Do you know anything of the Luttrells?" he asked, abruptly.
+
+"The Luttrells of Netherglen? They are my third cousins."
+
+"You never speak of them."
+
+"I never saw them."
+
+"Do you know what has happened to one of them."
+
+"Yes. He shot his brother by mistake a few days ago."
+
+"I was thinking rather of the one who was killed," said Percival. "Where
+did you see the account? In the newspaper?"
+
+"Yes." Then she hesitated a little. "And I had a letter, too."
+
+"From the Luttrells themselves?"
+
+"From their lawyer."
+
+"And you held your tongue about it?"
+
+"There was nothing to say," said Elizabeth, with a smile.
+
+Percival shrugged his shoulders, and went back to the drawing-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ELIZABETH'S WOOING.
+
+
+Percival and his friend dined with the Herons that evening. Mr. Heron
+was an artist by profession; he was a fair, abstracted-looking man, with
+gold eye-glasses, which he was always sticking ineffectually upon the
+bridge of his nose and nervously feeling for when they tumbled down
+again. He had painted several good pictures in his time, and was in the
+habit of earning a fairly good income; but owing to some want of
+management, either on his part or his wife's, his income never seemed
+quite large enough for the needs of the household. The servants' wages
+were usually in arrear; the fittings of the house were broken and never
+repaired; there were wonderful gaps in the furniture and the china,
+which nobody ever appeared to think of filling up. Rupert remembered the
+ways of the house when he had boarded there, and was not surprised to
+find himself dining upon mutton half-burnt and half-raw, potatoes more
+like bullets than vegetables, and a partially cooked rice-pudding,
+served upon the remains of at least three dinner-services, accompanied
+by sour beer and very indifferent claret. Percival did not even pretend
+to eat; he sat back in his chair and declared, with an air of polite
+disgust, that he was not hungry. Rupert made up for his deficiencies,
+however; he swallowed what was set before him and conversed with his
+hostess, who was quite unconscious that anything was amiss. Mrs. Heron
+had a vague taste for metaphysics and political economy; she had
+beautiful theories of education, which she was always intending, at some
+future time, to put into practice for the benefit of her three little
+boys, Harry, Willy, and Jack. She spoke of these theories, with her blue
+eyes fixed on vacancy and her fork poised gracefully in the air, while
+Vivian laboured distastefully through his dinner, and Percival frowned
+in silence at the table-cloth.
+
+"I have always thought," Mrs. Heron was saying sweetly, "that children
+ought not to be too much controlled. Their development should be
+perfectly free. My children grow up like young plants, with plenty of
+sun and air; they play as they like; they work when they feel that they
+can work best; and, if at times they are a little noisy, at any rate
+their noise never develops into riot."
+
+Percival did not, perhaps, intend her to hear him, but, below his
+breath, he burst into a sardonic, little laugh and an aside to his
+sister Kitty.
+
+"Never into riot! I never heard them stop short of it!"
+
+Mrs. Heron looked at him uncertainly, and took pains to explain herself.
+
+"Up to a certain point, I was going to say, Percival, dear. At the
+proper age, I think, that discipline, entire and perfect discipline,
+ought to begin."
+
+"And what is the proper age?" said Percival, ironically. "For it seems
+to me that the boys are now quite old enough to endure a little
+discipline."
+
+"Oh, at present," said Mrs. Heron, with undisturbed composure, "they are
+in Elizabeth's hands. I leave them entirely to her. I trust Elizabeth
+perfectly."
+
+"Is that the reason why Elizabeth does not dine with us?" said Percival,
+looking at his step-mother with an expression of deep hostility. But
+Mrs. Heron's placidity was of a kind which would not be ruffled.
+
+"Elizabeth is so kind," she said. "She teaches them, and does everything
+for them; but, of course, they must go to school by-and-bye. Dear papa
+will not let me teach them myself. He tells me to forget that ever I was
+a governess; but, indeed"--with a faint, pensive smile--"my instincts
+are too strong for me sometimes, and I long to have my pupils back
+again. Do I not, Kitty, darling?"
+
+"I was not a pupil of yours very long, Isabel," said Kitty, who never
+brought herself to the point of calling Mrs. Heron by anything but her
+Christian name.
+
+"Not long," sighed Mrs. Heron. "Too short a time for me."
+
+At this point Mr. Heron, who noticed very little of what was going on
+around him, turned to his son with a question about the politics of the
+day. Percival, with his nose in the air, hardly deigned at first to
+answer; but upon Vivian's quietly propounding some strongly Conservative
+views, which always acted on the younger Heron as a red rag is supposed
+to act upon a bull, he waxed impatient and then argumentative, until at
+last he talked himself into a good humour, and made everybody else good
+humoured.
+
+When they returned to the untidy but pleasant-looking drawing-room, they
+found Elizabeth engaged in picking up the children's toys, straightening
+the sheets of music on the piano, and otherwise making herself generally
+useful; She had changed her dress, and put on a long, plain gown of
+white cashmere, which suited her admirably, although it was at least
+three years old, undeniably tight for her across the shoulders, and
+short at the wrists, having shrunk by repeated washings since the days
+when it first was made. She wore no trimmings and no ornaments, whereas
+Kitty, in her red frock, sported half-a-dozen trumpery bracelets, a
+silver necklace, and a little bunch of autumn flowers; and Mrs. Heron's
+pale-blue draperies were adorned with dozens of yards of cheap
+cream-coloured lace. Vivian looked at Elizabeth and wondered, almost for
+the first time, why she differed so greatly from the Herons. He had
+often seen her before; but, being now particularly interested by what he
+had heard about her, he observed her more than usual.
+
+Mrs. Heron sat down at the piano; she played well, and was rather fond
+of exhibiting her musical proficiency. Percival and Kitty were engaged
+in an animated, low-toned conversation. Rupert approached Elizabeth, who
+was arranging some sketches in a portfolio with the diligence of a
+housemaid. She was standing just within the studio, which was separated
+from the drawing-room by a velvet curtain now partially drawn aside.
+
+"Do you sketch? are these your drawings?" he asked her.
+
+"No, they are Uncle Alfred's. I cannot draw."
+
+"You are musical, I suppose," said Rupert, carelessly.
+
+He took it for granted that, if a girl did not draw, she must needs play
+the piano. But her next words undeceived him.
+
+"No, I can't play. I have no accomplishments."
+
+"What do you mean by accomplishments?" asked Vivian, smiling.
+
+"I mean that I know nothing about French and German, or music and
+drawing," said Elizabeth, calmly. "I never had any systematic education.
+I should make rather a good housemaid, I believe, but my friends won't
+allow me to take a housemaid's situation."
+
+"I should think not," ejaculated Vivian.
+
+"But it is all that I am fit for," she continued, quietly. "And I think
+it is rather a pity that I am not allowed to be happy in my own way."
+
+There was a little silence. Vivian felt himself scarcely equal to the
+occasion. Presently she said, with more quickness of speech than
+usual:--
+
+"You have been in Scotland lately, have you not?"
+
+"I was there a short time ago, but for two days only."
+
+"Ah, yes, you went to Netherglen?"
+
+"I did. The Luttrells are connections of yours, are they not, Miss
+Murray?"
+
+"Very distant ones," said Elizabeth.
+
+"You know that Brian Luttrell has gone abroad?"
+
+"I have heard so."
+
+There was very little to be got out of Miss Murray. Vivian was almost
+glad when Percival joined them, and he was able to slip back to Kitty,
+with whom he had no difficulty in carrying on a conversation.
+
+The studio was dimly lighted, and Percival, either by accident or
+design, allowed the curtain to fall entirely over the aperture between
+the two rooms. He looked round him. Mr. Heron was absent, and they had
+the room to themselves. Several unfinished canvasses were leaning
+against the walls; the portrait of an exceedingly cadaverous-looking old
+man was conspicuous upon the artist's easel; the lay figure was draped
+like a monk, and had a cowl drawn over its stiff, wooden head. Percival
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"My father's studio isn't an attractive-looking place," he said, with a
+growl of disgust in his voice.
+
+"Why did you come into it?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"I had a good reason," he answered, looking at her.
+
+If she understood the meaning that he wished to convey, it certainly did
+not embarrass or distress her in the least. She gave him a very
+friendly, but serious, kind of smile, and went on calmly with her work
+of sorting the papers and sketches that lay scattered around her.
+
+"Elizabeth," he said, "I am offended with you."
+
+"That happens so often," she replied, "that I am never greatly surprised
+nor greatly concerned at hearing it."
+
+"It is of little consequence to you, no doubt," said Percival, rather
+huffily; "but I am--for once--perfectly serious, Elizabeth. Why could
+you not come down to dinner to-night when Rupert and I were here?"
+
+"I very seldom come down to dinner. I was with the children."
+
+"The children are not your business."
+
+"Indeed they are. Mrs. Heron has given them into my charge, and I am
+glad of it. Not that I care for all children," said Elizabeth, with the
+cool impartiality that was wont to drive Percival to the very verge of
+distraction. "I dislike some children very much, indeed, but, you see, I
+happen--fortunately for myself--to be fond of Harry, Willie, and Jack."
+
+"Fortunately, for yourself, do you say? Fortunately for them! You must
+be fond of them, indeed. You can have their society all day and every
+day; and yet you could not spare a single hour to come and dine with us
+like a rational being. Vivian will think they make a nursery-maid of
+you, and I verily believe they do!"
+
+"What does it signify to us what Mr. Vivian thinks? I don't mind being
+taken for a nursery-maid at all, if I am only doing my proper work. But
+I would have come down, Percival, indeed, I would, if little Jack had
+not seemed so fretful and unwell. I am afraid something really is the
+matter with his back; he complains so much of pain in it, and cannot
+sleep at night. I could not leave him while he was crying and in pain,
+could I?"
+
+"What did you do with him?" asked Percival, after a moment's pause.
+
+"I walked up and down the room. He went to sleep in my arms."
+
+"Of course, you tired yourself out with that great, heavy boy!"
+
+"You don't know how light little Jack is; you cannot have taken him in
+your arms for a long time, Percival," said she, in a hurt tone; "and I
+am very strong. My hands ought to be of some use to me, if my brain is
+not."
+
+"Your brain is strong enough, and your will is strong enough for
+anything, but your hands----"
+
+"Are they to be useless?"
+
+"Yes, they are to be useless," he said, "and somebody else must work for
+you."
+
+"That arrangement would not suit me. I like to work for myself," she
+answered, smiling.
+
+They were standing on opposite sides of a small table on which the
+portfolio of drawings rested. Percival was holding up one side of the
+portfolio, and she was placing the sketches one by one upon each other.
+
+"Do you know what you look like?" said Percival, suddenly. There was a
+thrill of pleasurable excitement in his tone, a glow of ardour in his
+dark eyes. "You look like a tall, white lily to-night, with your white
+dress and your gleaming hair. The pure white of the petals and the
+golden heart of the lily have found their match."
+
+"I am recompensed for the trouble I took in changing my dress this
+evening," said Elizabeth, glancing down at it complacently. "I did not
+expect that it would bring me so poetic a compliment. Thank you,
+Percival."
+
+"'Consider the lilies; they toil not, neither do they spin,'" quoted
+Percival, recklessly. "Why should you toil and spin?--a more beautiful
+lily than any one of them. If Solomon in all his glory was not equal to
+those Judean lilies, then I may safely say that the Queen of Sheba would
+be beaten outright by our Queen Elizabeth, with her white dress and her
+golden locks!"
+
+"Mrs. Heron would say you were profane," said Elizabeth, tranquilly.
+"These comparisons of yours don't please me exactly, Percival; they
+always remind me of the flowery leaders in some of the evening papers,
+and make me remember that you are a journalist. They have a professional
+air."
+
+"A professional air!" repeated Percival, in disgust. He let the lid of
+the portfolio fall with a bang upon the table. Several of the sketches
+flew wildly over the floor, and Elizabeth turned to him with a
+reproachful look, but she had no time to protest, for in that moment he
+had seized her hands and drawn her aside with him to a sofa that stood
+on one side of the room.
+
+"You shall not answer me in that way," he said, half-irritated,
+half-amused, and wholly determined to have his way. "You shall sit down
+there and listen to me in a serious spirit, if you can. No, don't shake
+your head and look at me so mockingly. It is time that we understood
+each other, and I don't mean another night to pass over our heads
+without some decision being arrived at. Elizabeth, you must know that
+you have my happiness in your hands. I can't live without you. I can't
+bear to see you making yourself a slave to everybody, with no one to
+love you, no one to work for you and save you from anxiety and care. Let
+me work for you, now, dearest; be my wife, and I will see that you have
+your proper place, and that you are tended and cared for as a woman
+ought to be."
+
+Elizabeth had withdrawn her hands from his; she even turned a little
+pale. He fancied that the tears stood in her eyes.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I wish you had not said this to me, Percival."
+
+It was easy for him to slip down from his low seat to a footstool, and
+there, on one knee, to look full into her face, and let his handsome,
+dark eyes plead for him.
+
+"Why should I not have said it?" he breathed, softly. "Has it not been
+the dream of my life for months?--I might almost say for years? I loved
+you ever since you first came amongst us, Elizabeth, years ago."
+
+"Did you, indeed?" said Elizabeth. A light of humour showed itself
+through the tears that had come into her eyes. An amused, reluctant
+smile curved the corners of her mouth. "What, when I was an awkward,
+clumsy, ignorant schoolgirl, as I remember your calling me one day after
+I had done something exceptionally stupid? And when you played practical
+jokes upon me--hung my doll up by its hair, and made me believe that
+there was a ghost in the attics--did you care for me then? Oh, no,
+Percival, you forget! and probably you exaggerate the amount of your
+feeling as much as you do the length of time it has lasted."
+
+"It's no laughing matter, I assure you, Elizabeth," said Percival,
+laughing a little himself at these recollections, but looking vexed at
+the same time. "I am perfectly serious now, and very much in earnest;
+and I can't believe that my stupid jokes, when I was a mere boy, have
+had such an effect upon your mind as to prevent you from caring for me
+now."
+
+"No," said Elizabeth. "They make no difference; but--I'm very sorry,
+Percival--I really don't think that it would do."
+
+"What would not do? what do you mean?" said Percival, frowning.
+
+"This arrangement; this--this--proposition of yours. Nobody would like
+it."
+
+"Nobody could object. I have a perfect right to marry if I choose, and
+whom I choose. I am independent of my father."
+
+"You could not marry yet, Percival," she said, in rather a chiding tone.
+
+"I could--if you would not mind sharing my poverty with me. If you loved
+me, Elizabeth, you would not mind."
+
+"I am afraid I do not love you--in that way," said Elizabeth,
+meditatively. "No, it would never do. I never dreamt of such a thing."
+
+"Nobody expects you to have dreamt of it," rejoined Percival, with a
+short laugh. "The dreaming can be left to me. The question is rather
+whether you will think of it now--consider it a little, I mean. It seems
+to be a new idea to you--though I must say I wonder that you have not
+seen how much I loved you, Elizabeth! I am willing to wait until you
+have grown used to it. I cannot believe that you do not care for me! You
+would not be so cruel; you must love me a little--just a very little,
+Elizabeth."
+
+"Well, I do," said Elizabeth, smiling at his vehemence. "I do love
+you--more than a little--as I love you all. You have been so good to me
+that I could not help caring for you--in spite of the doll and the ghost
+in the attic." Her smile grew gravely mischievous as she finished the
+sentence.
+
+"Oh, that is not what I want," cried Percival, starting up from his
+lowly position at her feet. "That is not the kind of love that I am
+asking for at all."
+
+"I am afraid you will get no other," said Elizabeth, with a ring of
+sincerity in her voice that left no room for coquetry. "I am sorry, but
+I cannot help it, Percival."
+
+"Your love is not given to anyone else?" he demanded, fiercely.
+
+"You have no right to ask. But if it is a satisfaction to you, I can
+assure you that I have never cared for anyone in that way. I do not know
+what it means," said Elizabeth, looking directly before her. "I have
+never been able to understand."
+
+"Let me make you understand," murmured Percival, his momentary anger
+melting before the complete candour of her eyes. "Let me teach you to
+love, Elizabeth."
+
+She was silent--irresolute, as it appeared to him.
+
+"You would learn very easily," said he. "Try--let me try."
+
+"I don't think I could be taught," she answered, slowly. "And really I
+am not sure that I care to learn."
+
+"That is simply because you do not know your own heart," said Percival,
+dogmatically. "Trust me, and wait awhile. I will have no answer now,
+Elizabeth. I will ask you again."
+
+"And suppose my answer is the same?"
+
+"It won't be the same," said Percival, in a masterful sort of way. "You
+will understand by-and-bye."
+
+She did not see the fire in his eyes, nor the look of passionate
+yearning that crossed his face as he stood beside her, or she would
+scarcely have been surprised when he bent down suddenly and pressed his
+lips to her forehead. She started to her feet, colouring vividly and
+angrily. "How dare you, Percival!----" she began. But she could not
+finish the sentence. Kitty called her from the other room. Kitty's face
+appeared; and the curtain was drawn aside by an unseen hand with a great
+clatter of rings upon the pole.
+
+"Where have you been all this time?" said she. "Isabel wants you,
+Lizzie. Percival, Mr. Vivian talks of going."
+
+Elizabeth vanished through the curtain. Percival had not even time to
+breathe into her ear the "Forgive me" with which he meant to propitiate
+her. He was not very penitent for his offence. He thought that he was
+sure of Elizabeth's pardon, because he thought himself sure of
+Elizabeth's love. But, as a matter of fact, that stolen kiss did not at
+all advance his cause with Elizabeth Murray.
+
+He did not see her again that night--a fact which sent him back to his
+lodging in an ill-satisfied frame of mind. He and Vivian shared a
+sitting-room between them; and, on their return from Mr. Heron's, they
+disposed themselves for their usual smoke and chat. But neither of them
+seemed inclined for conversation. Rupert lay back in a long
+lounging-chair; Percival turned over the leaves of a new publication
+which had been sent to him for review, and uttered disparaging comments
+upon it from time to time.
+
+"I hope all critics are not so hypercritical as you are," said Vivian at
+last, when the volume had finally been tossed to the other end of the
+room with an exclamation of disgust.
+
+"Pah! why will people write such abominable stuff?" said Percival.
+"Reach me down that volume of Bacon's Essays behind you; I must have
+something to take the taste out of my mouth before I begin to write."
+
+Vivian handed him the book, and watched him with some interest as he
+read. The frown died away from his forehead, and the mouth gradually
+assumed a gentler expression before he had turned the first page. In
+five minutes he was so much absorbed that he did not hear the question
+which Vivian addressed to him.
+
+"What position," said Rupert, deliberately, "does Miss Murray hold in
+your father's house?"
+
+"Eh? What? What position?" Away went Percival's book to the floor; he
+raised himself in his chair, and began to light his pipe, which had gone
+out. "What do you mean?" he said.
+
+"Is she a ward of your father's? Is she a relation of yours?"
+
+"Yes, of course, she is," said Percival, rather resentfully. "She is a
+cousin. Let me see. Her father, Gordon Murray, was my mother's brother.
+She is my first cousin. And Cinderella in general to the household," he
+added, grimly.
+
+"Oh, Gordon Murray was her father? So I supposed. Then if poor Richard
+Luttrell had not died I suppose she would have been a sort of connection
+of my sister's. I remember Angela wondered whether Gordon Murray had
+left any family."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why? You know the degree of relationship and the terms of the will made
+by Mrs. Luttrell's father, don't you?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Gordon Murray--this Miss Murray's father--was next heir after the two
+Luttrells, if they died childless. Of course, Brian is still living; but
+if he died, Miss Murray would inherit, I understand."
+
+"There's not much chance," said Percival, lightly.
+
+"Not much," responded Vivian.
+
+They were interrupted by a knock at the door. The landlady, with many
+apologies, brought them a telegram which had been left at the house
+during their absence, and which she had forgotten to deliver. It was
+addressed to Vivian, who tore it open, read it twice, and then passed it
+on to Percival without a word.
+
+It was from Angela Vivian, and contained these words only--
+
+"Brian Luttrell is dead."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BROTHER DINO.
+
+
+When Brian Luttrell left England he had no very clear idea of the places
+that he meant to visit, or the things that he wished to do. He wished
+only to leave old associations behind him--to forget, and, if possible
+to be forgotten.
+
+He was conscious of a curious lack of interest in life; it seemed to him
+as though the very springs of his being were dried up at their source.
+As a matter of fact, he was thoroughly out of health, as well as out of
+spirits; he had been over-working himself in London, and was scarcely
+out of the doctor's hands before he went to Scotland; then the shock of
+his brother's death and the harshness of his mother toward him had
+contributed their share to the utter disorganisation of his faculties.
+In short, Brian was not himself at all; it might even be said that he
+was out of his right mind. He had attacks of headache, generally
+terminating in a kind of stupor rather than sleep, during which he could
+scarcely be held responsible for the things he said or did. At other
+times, a feverish restlessness came upon him; he could not sleep, and he
+could not eat; he would then go out and walk for miles and miles, until
+he was thoroughly exhausted. It was a wonder that his mind did not give
+way altogether. His sanity hung upon a thread.
+
+It was in this state that he found himself one day upon a Rhine boat,
+bound for Mainz. He had a very vague notion of how he had managed to get
+there; he had no notion at all of his reason for travelling in that
+direction. It dawned upon him by degrees that he had chosen the very
+same route, and made the same stoppages, as he had done when he was a
+mere boy, travelling with his father upon the Continent. Richard and his
+mother had not been there; Brian and Mr. Luttrell had spent a
+particularly happy time together, and the remembrance of it soothed his
+troubled brain, and caused his eye to rest with a sort of dreamy
+pleasure upon the scene around him.
+
+It was rather late for a Rhine expedition, and the boat was not at all
+full. Brian rather thought that the journey with his father had been
+taken at about the same time of the year--perhaps even a little later.
+He had a special memory of the wealth of Virginian creeper which covered
+the buildings near Coblentz. He looked out for it when the boat stopped
+at the landing-stage, and thought of the time when he had wandered
+hand-in-hand with his father in the pleasant Anlagen on the river banks,
+and gathered a scarlet trail of leaves from the castle walls. The leaves
+were in their full autumnal glory now; he must have been there at about
+the same season when he was a boy.
+
+After determining this fact to his satisfaction, Brian went back to the
+seat that he had found for himself at the end of the boat, and began
+once more to watch the gliding panorama of "castled crag" and vine-clad
+slope, which was hardly as familiar to him as it is to most of us. But,
+after all, Drachenfels and Ehrenbreitstein had no great interest for
+him. He had no great interest in anything. Perhaps the little excitement
+and bustle at the landing-places pleased him more than the scenery
+itself--the peasants shouting to each other from the banks, the baskets
+of grapes handed in one after another, the patient oxen waiting in the
+roads between the shafts; these were sights which made no great claim
+upon his attention and were curiously soothing to his jaded nerves. He
+watched them languidly, but was not sorry from time to time to close his
+eyes and shut out his surroundings altogether.
+
+The worst of it was, that when he had closed his eyes for a little time,
+the scene in the wood always came back to him with terrible
+distinctness, or else there rose up before his eyes a picture of that
+darkened room, with Richard's white face upon the pillow and his
+mother's dark form and outstretched hand. These were the memories that
+would not let him sleep at night or take his ease in the world by day.
+He could not forget the past.
+
+There was another passenger on the boat who passed and repassed Brian
+several times, and looked at him with curious attention. Brian's face
+was one which was always apt to excite interest. It had grown thin and
+pallid during the past fortnight; the eyes were set in deep hollows, and
+wore a painfully sad expression. He looked as if he had passed through
+some period of illness or sorrow of which the traces could never be
+wholly obliterated. There was a pathetic hopelessness in his face which
+was somewhat remarkable in so young a man.
+
+The passenger who regarded him with so much interest was also a young
+man, not more than Brian's own age, but apparently not an Englishman. He
+spoke English a little, though with a foreign accent, but his French was
+remarkably good and pure. He stopped short at last in front of Brian and
+eyed him attentively, evidently believing that the young man was asleep.
+But Brian was not asleep; he knew that the regular footstep of his
+travelling companion had ceased, and was hardly surprised, when he
+opened his eyes, to find the Frenchman--if such he were--standing before
+him.
+
+Brian looked at him attentively for a moment, and recognised the fact
+that the young foreigner wore an ecclesiastical habit, a black _soutane_
+or cassock, such as is worn in Roman Catholic seminaries, not
+necessarily denoting that the person who wears it has taken priest's
+vows upon him. Brian was not sufficiently well versed in the subject to
+know what grade was signified by the dress of the young ecclesiastic,
+but he conjectured (chiefly from its plainness and extreme shabbiness)
+that it was not a very high one. The young man's face pleased him. It
+was intellectual and refined in contour, rather of the ascetic type;
+with that faint redness about the heavy eyelids which suggests an
+insufficiency of sleep or a too great amount of study; large,
+penetrating, dark eyes, underneath a broad, white brow; a firm mouth and
+chin. There was something about his face which seemed vaguely familiar
+to Brian; and yet he could not in the least remember where he had seen
+it before, or what associations it called up in his mind.
+
+The young man courteously raised his broad, felt hat.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, "you are ill--suffering--can I do nothing for
+you?"
+
+"I am not ill, thank you. You are very good, but I want nothing," said
+Brian, with a feeling of annoyance which showed itself in the coldness
+of his manner. And yet he was attracted rather than repelled by the
+stranger's voice and manner. The voice was musical, the manner decidedly
+prepossessing. He was not sorry that the young ecclesiastic did not seem
+ready to accept the rebuff, but took a seat on the bench by his side,
+and made a remark upon the scenery through which they were passing.
+Brian responded slightly enough, but with less coldness; and in a few
+minutes--he did not know how it happened--he was talking to the stranger
+more freely than he had done to anyone since he left England. Their
+conversation was certainly confined to trivial topics; but there was a
+frankness and a delicacy of perception about the young foreigner which
+made him a very attractive companion. He gave Brian in a few words an
+outline of the chief events of his life, and seemed to expect no
+confidence from Brian in return. He had been brought up in a Roman
+Catholic seminary, and was destined to become a Benedictine monk. He was
+on his way to join an elder priest in Mainz; thence he expected to
+proceed to Italy, but was not sure of his destination.
+
+"I shall perhaps meet you again, then?" said Brian. "I am perhaps going
+to Italy myself."
+
+The young man smiled and shook his head. "You are scarcely likely to
+encounter me, monsieur," he answered. "I shall be busy amongst the poor
+and sick, or at work within the monastery. I shall remember you--but I
+do not think that we shall meet again."
+
+"By what name should I ask for you if I came across any of your order?"
+said Brian.
+
+"I am generally known as Dino Vasari, or Brother Dino, at your service,
+monsieur," replied the Italian, cheerfully. "If, in your goodness, you
+wished to inquire after me, you should ask at the monastery of San
+Stefano, where I spend a few weeks every year in retreat. The Prior,
+Father Cristoforo, is an old friend of mine, and he will always welcome
+you if you should pass that way. There is good sleeping accommodation
+for visitors."
+
+Brian took the trouble to make an entry in his note-book to this effect.
+It turned out to be a singularly useful one. As they were reaching Mainz
+something prompted Brian to ask a question. "Why did you speak to me
+this afternoon?" he said, the morbid suspiciousness of a man who is sick
+in mind as well as body returning full upon him. "You do not know me?"
+
+"No, monsieur, I do not know you." The ecclesiastic's pale brow flushed;
+he even looked embarrassed. "Monsieur," he said at last, "you had the
+appearance--you will pardon my saying so--of one who was either ill or
+bore about with him some unspoken trouble; it is the privilege of the
+Order to which I hope one day to belong to offer help when help is
+needed; and for a moment I hoped it might be my special privilege to
+give some help to you."
+
+"Why did you think so?" Brian asked, hastily. "You did not know my
+name?"
+
+The Italian cast down his eyes. "Yes, monsieur," he said in a low tone,
+"I did know your name."
+
+Brian started up. He did not stop to weigh probabilities; he forgot how
+little likely a young foreign seminarist would be to hear news of an
+accident in Scotland; he felt foolishly certain that his name--as that
+of the man who had killed his brother--must be known to all the world!
+It was the wildest possible delusion, such as could occur only to a man
+whose mind was off its balance--and even he could not retain it for more
+than a minute or two; but in that space of time he uttered a few wild
+words, which caused the young monk to raise his dark eyes to his face
+with a look of sorrowful compassion.
+
+"Does everyone know my wretched story, then? Do I carry a mark about
+with me--like Cain?" Brian cried aloud.
+
+"I know nothing of your story, monsieur," said Brother Dino, as he
+called himself, after a little pause, "When I said that I knew your
+name, I should more properly have said the name of your family. A
+gentleman of your name once visited the little town where I was brought
+up." He paused again and added gently, "I have peculiar reasons for
+remembering him. He was very good to a member of my family."
+
+Brian had recovered his self-possession before the end of the young
+priest's speech, and was heartily ashamed of his own weakness.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, sinking back into his seat with an air of
+weariness and discouragement that would have touched the heart of a
+tender-natured man, such as was Brother Dino of San Stefano. "I must be
+an utter fool to have spoken as I did. You knew my father, did you? That
+must be long ago."
+
+"Many years." Brother Dino looked at the Englishman with some expression
+in his eyes which Brian did not remark at the moment, but which recurred
+afterwards to his memory as being singular. There was sympathy in it,
+pity, perhaps, and, above all, an intense curiosity. "Many years ago my
+friends knew him; not I. The Signor Luttrell--he lives still in your
+country?"
+
+"No. He died eight years ago."
+
+"And----"
+
+A question evidently trembled on the Italian's lips, but he restrained
+himself. He could not ask it when he saw the pain and the dread in
+Brian's face. But Brian answered the question that he had meant to ask.
+
+"My brother is dead, also. My mother is living and well."
+
+Then he wheeled round and looked at the landing-stage, to which they
+were now very close. The stranger respected his emotion; he glanced once
+at the band of crape on Brian's arm, and then walked quietly away. When
+he returned it was only to say good-bye.
+
+"I should like to see you again," Brian said to him. "Perhaps I may find
+you out and visit you some day. You find your life peaceful and happy,
+no doubt?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"I envy you," said Brian.
+
+They parted. Brian went away to his hotel, leaving the young seminarist
+still standing on the deck--a black figure with his pale hands crossed
+upon his breast in the glow of the evening sunshine, awaiting the
+arrival of his superior as a soldier waits for his commanding officer.
+Brian looked back at him once and waved his hand: he had not been so
+much interested in anyone for what seemed to him almost an eternity of
+time.
+
+Sitting sadly and alone in the hotel that night, he fell to pondering
+over some of the words that the young Italian had spoken, and the
+questions that he had asked. He wondered greatly what was the service
+that his father had rendered to these Italians, and blamed himself a
+little for not asking more about the young man's history. He knew well
+enough that his parents had once spent two or three years
+abroad--chiefly in Italy; he himself had been born in an Italian town,
+and had spent almost the whole of the first year of his life in a little
+village at the foot of the Apennines. Was it not near a place called San
+Stefano, indeed, that he had been nursed by an Italian peasant woman?
+Brian determined, in a vague and dreamy way, that at some future time he
+would visit San Stefano, find out the history of his new acquaintance,
+and see the place where he had been born at the same time. That is if
+ever he felt inclined to do anything of the sort again. At present--and
+especially as the temporary interest inspired by the young Italian died
+away--he felt as if he cared too little for his future to resolve upon
+doing anything. There was a letter waiting for him, addressed in Mr.
+Colquhoun's handwriting. He had not even the heart to open it and see
+what the lawyer had to say. Something drew him next morning towards that
+wonderful old building of red stone, which looks as if it were hourly
+crumbling away, and yet has lasted so many hundred years, the cathedral
+of Mainz. The service was just over; the organ still murmured soft,
+harmonious cadences. The incense was wafted to his nostrils as he walked
+down the echoing nave. There had been a mass for the dead and a funeral
+that morning; part of the cathedral was draped in black cloth and
+ornamented by hundreds of wax candles, which flared in the sunlight and
+dropped wax on the uneven pavement below. There was an oppressiveness in
+the atmosphere to Brian; everything spoke to him of death and decay in
+that strange, old city, which might veritably be called a city of the
+dead. He turned aside into the cloisters, and listened mechanically
+while an old man discoursed to him in crabbed German concerning
+Fastrada's tomb and the carved face of the minstrel Frauenlob upon the
+cloister wall. Presently, however, the guide showed him a little door,
+and led him out into the pleasant grassy space round which the cloisters
+had been built. He was conscious of a great feeling of relief. The blue
+sky was above him again, and his feet were on the soft, green grass.
+There were tombstones amongst the grass, but they were overgrown with
+ivy and blossoming rose-trees. Brian sat down with a great sigh upon one
+of the old blocks of marble that strewed the ground, and told the guide
+to leave him there awhile. The man thought that he wanted to sketch the
+place, as many English artists did, and retired peacefully enough. Brian
+had no intention of sketching: he wanted only to feel himself alone, to
+watch the gay, little sparrows as they leaped from spray to spray of the
+monthly rose-trees, the waving of the long grass between the tombstones,
+and the glimpse of blue sky beyond the mouldering reddish walls on
+either hand.
+
+As he sat there, almost as though he were waiting for some expected
+visitor, the cloister doors opened once more, and two or three men in
+black gowns came out. They were all priests except one, and this one was
+the young Italian whose acquaintance Brian had made upon the steamer.
+They were talking rapidly together; one of them seemed to be questioning
+the young man, and he was replying with the serene yet earnest
+expression of countenance which had impressed Brian so favourably. At
+first they stood still; by-and-bye they crossed the quadrangle, and here
+Brother Dino fell somewhat behind the others. Following a sudden
+impulse, Brian suddenly rose as he came near, and addressed him.
+
+"Can you speak to me? I want to ask you about my father----"
+
+He spoke in English, but the young priest replied in Italian.
+
+"I cannot speak to you now. Wait till we meet at San Stefano."
+
+The words might be abrupt, but the smile which followed them was so
+sweet, so benign, that Brian was only struck with a sudden sense of the
+beauty of the expression upon that keen Italian face. "God be with you!"
+said Brother Dino, as he passed on. He stretched out his hand; it held
+one of the faintly-pink, sweet roses, which he had plucked near the
+cloister door. He almost thrust it into Brian's passive fingers. "God be
+with you," he said, in his native tongue once more. "Farewell, brother."
+In another moment he was gone. Brian had the green enclosure, the birds
+and the roses to himself once more.
+
+He looked down at the little overblown flower in his hand and carried it
+mechanically to his nostrils. It was very sweet.
+
+"Why does he think that I shall go to San Stefano?" he asked himself.
+"What is San Stefano to me? Why should I meet him there?"
+
+He sat down again, holding the flower loosely in one hand, and resting
+his head upon the other. The old langour and sickness of heart were
+coming back upon him; the momentary excitement had passed away. He would
+have given a great deal to be able to rouse himself from the depression
+which had taken such firm hold of his mind; but he failed to discover
+any means of doing so. He had a vague, morbid fancy that Brother Dino
+could help him to master his own trouble--he knew not how; but this hope
+had failed him. He did not even care to go to San Stefano.
+
+After a little time he remembered the letter in his pocket, addressed to
+him in Mr. Colquhoun's handwriting. He took it out and looked at it for
+a few minutes. Why should Mr. Colquhoun write to him unless he had
+something unpleasant to say? Perhaps he was only forwarding some
+letters. This quiet, grassy quadrangle was a good place in which to read
+letters, he thought. He would open the envelope and see what Colquhoun
+had to say.
+
+He opened it very slowly.
+
+Then he started, and his hand began to tremble. The only letter enclosed
+was one in his mother's handwriting. Upon a slip of blue paper were a
+few words from the lawyer. "Forwarded to Mr. Brian Luttrell at Mrs.
+Luttrell's request on the 25th of October, 1877, by James Colquhoun."
+
+Brian opened the letter. It had no formal opening, but it was carefully
+signed and dated, and ran as follows:--
+
+"They tell me that I have done you an injury by doubting your word, and
+that I am an unnatural mother in saying--even in my own chamber--what I
+thought. I have an excuse, which no one knows but myself and James
+Colquhoun. I think it is well under present circumstances to tell you
+what it is.
+
+"I am a strong believer in race. I think that the influence of blood is
+far more powerful than those of training or education, how strong soever
+they may be. Therefore, I was never astonished although I was grieved,
+to see that your love for Richard was not so great as that of brothers
+should have been----"
+
+"It is false!" said Brian, with a groan, crushing the letter in his
+hand, and letting it fall to his side. "No brother could have loved
+Richard more than I."
+
+Presently he took up the letter again and read.
+
+"Because I knew," it went on, "though many a woman in my position would
+not have guessed the truth, that you were not Richard's brother at all:
+that you were not my son."
+
+Again Brian paused, this time in utter bewilderment.
+
+"Is my mother mad" he said to himself. "I--not her son? Who am I, then?"
+
+"I repeat what I have said,"--so ran Mrs. Luttrell's letter--"with all
+the emphasis which I can lay upon the words. The matter may not be
+capable of proof, but the truth remains. You are not my son, not Edward
+Luttrell's son, not Richard Luttrell's brother--no relation of ours at
+all; not even of English or Scottish blood. Your parents were Italian
+peasant-folk; and my son, Brian Luttrell, lies buried in the churchyard
+of an Italian village at the foot of the Western Apennines. You are a
+native of San Stefano, and your mother was my nurse."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.
+
+
+"When my child Brian was born we were renting a villa near San Stefano,
+and were somewhat far removed from any English doctor. My doctor was,
+therefore, an Italian; and what was worse, he was an Italian monk. I
+hate foreigners, and I hate monks; so you may imagine for yourself the
+way in which I looked upon him. No doubt he had a hand in the plot that
+has ended so miserably for me and mine, so fortunately for you.
+
+"My Brian was nursed by our gardener's wife, a young Italian woman
+called Vincenza, whose child was about the age of mine. I saw Vincenza's
+child several times. Its eyes were brown (like yours); my baby's eyes
+were blue. It was when they were both about two months old that I was
+seized with a malarious fever, then very prevalent. They kept the
+children away from me for months. At last I insisted upon seeing them.
+The baby had been ill, they told me; I must be prepared for a great
+change in him. Even then my heart misgave me, I knew not why.
+
+"Vincenza brought a child and laid it in my lap, I looked at it, and
+then I looked at her. She was deadly white, and her eyes were red with
+tears. I did not know why. Of course I see now that she had enough of
+the mother's heart in her to be loath to give up her child. For it was
+her child that she had placed upon my knee. I knew it from the very
+first.
+
+"'Take this child away and give me my own,' I said. 'This is not mine.'
+
+"The woman threw up her hands and ran out of the room. I thought she had
+gone to fetch my baby, and I remained with her child--a puny, crying
+thing--upon my knees. But she did not return. Presently my husband came
+in, and I appealed to him. 'Tell Vincenza to take her wretched, little
+baby away,' I said. 'I want my own. This is her child; not mine.'
+
+"My husband looked at me, pityingly, as it seemed to my eyes. Suddenly
+the truth burst upon me. I sprang to my feet and threw the baby away
+from me upon the bed. 'My child is dead,' I cried. 'Tell me the truth;
+my child is dead.' And then I knew no more for days and weeks.
+
+"When I recovered, I found, to my utter horror, that Vincenza and her
+child had not left the house. My words had been taken for the ravings of
+a mad woman. Every one believed the story of this wicked Italian woman
+who declared that it was her child who had died, mine that had lived! I
+knew better. Could I be mistaken in the features of my own child? Had my
+Brian those great, dark, brown eyes? I saw how it was. The Italians had
+plotted to put their child in my Brian's place; they had forgotten that
+a mother's instinct would know her own amongst a thousand. I accused
+them openly of their wickedness; and, in spite of their tears and
+protestations, I saw from their guilty looks that it was true. My own
+Brian was dead, and I was left with Vincenza's child, and expected to
+love it as my own.
+
+"For nobody believed me. My husband never believed me. He maintained to
+the very last that you were his child and mine. I fought like a wild
+beast for my dead child's rights; but even I was mastered in the end.
+They threatened me--yes, James Colquhoun, in my husband's name,
+threatened me--with a madhouse, if I did not put away from me the
+suspicion that I had conceived. They assured me that Brian was not dead;
+that it was Vincenza's child that had died; that I was incapable of
+distinguishing one baby from another--and so on. They said that I should
+be separated from my own boy--my Richard, whom I tenderly loved--unless
+I put away from me this 'insane fancy,' and treated that Italian baby as
+my son. Oh, they were cruel to me--very cruel. But they got their way. I
+yielded because I could not bear to leave my husband and my boy. I let
+them place the child in my arms, and I learnt to call it Brian. I buried
+the secret in my own heart, but I was never once moved from my opinion.
+My own child was buried at San Stefano, and the boy that I took back
+with me to England was the gardener's son. You were that boy.
+
+"I was silent about your parentage, but I never loved you, and my
+husband knew that I did not. For that reason, I suppose, he made you his
+favourite. He petted you, caressed you more than was reasonable or
+right. Only once did any conversation on the subject pass between us. He
+had refused to punish you when you were a boy of ten, and had quarrelled
+with Richard. 'Mark my words,' I said to him, 'there will be more
+quarrelling, and with worse results, if you do not put a stop to it now.
+I should never trust a lad of Italian blood.' He looked at me, turning
+pale as he looked. 'Have you not forgotten that unhappy delusion, then?'
+he said. 'It is no delusion,' I answered him, composedly, 'to remind
+myself sometimes that this boy--Brian, as you call him--is the son of
+Giovanni Vasari and his wife.' 'Margaret,' he said, 'you are a mad
+woman!' He went out, shutting the door hastily behind him. But he never
+misunderstood me again. Do you know what were his last words to me upon
+his death-bed? 'Don't tell him,' he said, pointing to you with his weak,
+dying hand, 'If you ever loved me, Margaret, don't tell him.' And then
+he died, before I had promised not to tell. If I had promised then, I
+would have kept my word.
+
+"I knew what he meant. I resolved that I would never tell you. And but
+for Richard's death I would have held my tongue. But to see you in
+Richard's place, with Richard's money and Richard's lands, is more than
+I can bear. I will not tell this story to the world, but I refuse to
+keep you in ignorance any longer. If you like to possess Richard's
+wealth dishonestly, you are at liberty to do so. Any court of law would
+give it to you, and say that it was legally yours. There is, I imagine,
+no proof possible of the truth of my suspicions. Your mother and father
+are, I believe, both dead. I do not remember the name of the monk who
+acted as my doctor. There may be relations of your parents at San
+Stefano, but they are not likely to know the story of Vincenza's child.
+At any rate, you are not ignorant any longer of the reasons for which I
+believe it possible that you knew what you were doing when you were
+guilty of Richard Luttrell's death. There is not a drop of honest Scotch
+or English blood in your veins. You are an Italian, and I have always
+seen in your character the faults of the race to which by birth and
+parentage you belong. If I had not been weak enough to yield to the
+threats and the entreaties with which my husband and his tools assailed
+me, you would now be living, as your forefathers lived, a rude and hardy
+peasant on the North Italian plains; and I--I might have been a happy
+woman still."
+
+The letter bore the signature "Margaret Luttrell," and that was all.
+
+The custodian of the place wondered what had come to the English
+gentleman; he sat so still, with his face buried in his hands, and some
+open sheets of paper at his feet. The old man had a pretty, fair-haired
+daughter who could speak English a little. He called her and pointed out
+the stranger's bowed figure from one of the cloister windows.
+
+"He looks as if he had had some bad news," said the girl. "Do you think
+that he is ill, father? Shall I take him a glass of water, and ask him
+to walk into the house?"
+
+Brian was aroused from a maze of wretched, confused thought by the touch
+of Gretchen's light hand upon his arm. She had a glass of water in her
+hand.
+
+"Would the gentleman not drink?" she asked him, with a look of pity that
+startled him from his absorption. "The sun was hot that day, and the
+gentleman had chosen the hottest place to sit in; would he not rather
+choose the cool cloister, or her father's house, for one little hour or
+two?"
+
+Brian stammered out some words of thanks, and drank the water eagerly.
+He would not stay, however; he had bad news which compelled him to move
+on quickly--as quickly as possible. And then, with a certain whiteness
+about the lips, and a look of perplexed pain in his eyes, he picked up
+the papers as they lay strewn upon the grass, bowed to Gretchen with
+mechanical politeness, and made his way to the door by which he had come
+in. One thing he forgot; he never thought of it until long afterwards;
+the sweet, frail rose that Brother Dino had placed within his hand when
+he bade him God-speed. In less than an hour he was in the train; he
+hardly knew why or whither he was bound; he knew only that one of his
+restless fits had seized him and was driving him from the town in the
+way that it was wont to do.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell's letter was a great shock to him. He never dreamt at
+first of questioning the truth of her assertions. He thought it very
+likely that she had been perfectly able to judge, and that her husband
+had been mistaken in treating the matter as a delusion. At any time,
+this conviction would have been a sore trouble to him, for he had loved
+her and her husband and Richard very tenderly, but just now it seemed to
+him almost more than he could bear. He had divested himself of nearly
+the whole of what had been considered his inheritance, because he
+disliked so much the thought of profiting by Richard's death; was he
+also now to divest himself of the only name that he had known, of the
+country that he loved, of the nation that he had been proud to call his
+own? If his mother's story were true, he was, as she had said, the son
+of an Italian gardener called Vasari; his name then must be Vasari; his
+baptismal name he did not know. And Brian Luttrell did not exist; or
+rather, Brian Luttrell had been buried as a baby in the little
+churchyard of San Stefano. It was a bitter thought to him.
+
+But it could not be true. His whole being rose up in revolt against the
+suggestion that the father whom he had loved so well had not been his
+own father; that Richard had been of no kin to him. Surely his mother's
+mind must have been disordered when she refused to acknowledge him. It
+could not possibly be true that he was not her son. At any rate, one
+duty was plain to him. He must go to San Stefano and ascertain, as far
+as he could, the true history of the Vasari family. And in the meantime
+he could write to Mr. Colquhoun. He was obliged to go on to Geneva, as
+he knew that letters and remittances were to await him there. As soon as
+he had received the answer that Mr. Colquhoun would send to his letter
+of inquiry, he would proceed to Italy at once.
+
+Some delay in obtaining the expected remittances kept Brian for more
+than a week at Geneva. And there, in spite of the seclusion in which he
+chose to live, and his resolute avoidance of all society, it happened
+that before he had been in the place three days he met an old University
+acquaintance--a strong, cheery, good-natured fellow called Gunston,
+whose passion for climbing Swiss mountains seemed to be unappeasable. He
+tried hard to make Brian accompany him on his next expedition, but
+failed. Both strength and energy were wanting to him at this time.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun's answers to Brian's communications were short, and, to
+the young-man's mind, unsatisfactory. "At the time when Mrs. Luttrell
+first made the statement that she believed you to be Vincenza Vasari's
+son, her mind was in a very unsettled state. Medical evidence went to
+show that mothers did at times conceive a violent dislike to one or
+other of their children. This was probably a case in point. The Vasaris
+were honest, respectable people, and there was no reason to suppose that
+any fraud had been perpetrated. At the same time, it was impossible to
+convince Mrs. Luttrell that her own child had not died; and Mr.
+Colquhoun was of opinion that she would never acknowledge Brian as her
+son again, or consent to hold any personal intercourse with him."
+
+"It would be better if I were dead and out of all this uncertainty,"
+said Brian, bitterly, when he had read the letter. Yet, something in it
+gave him a sort of stimulus. He took several long excursions, late
+though the season was; and in a few days he again encountered Gunston,
+who was delighted to welcome him as a companion. Brian was a practised
+mountaineer; and though his health had lately been impaired, he seemed
+to regain it in the cold, clear air of the Swiss Alps. Gunston did not
+find him a genial companion; he was silent and even grim; but he was a
+daring climber, and exposed his life sometimes with a hardihood which
+approached temerity.
+
+But a day arrived on which Brian's climbing feats came to an end. They
+had made an easy ascent, and were descending the mountain on the
+southern side, when an accident took place. It was one which often
+occurs, and which can be easily pictured to oneself. They were crossing
+some loose snow when the whole mass began to move, slowly first, then
+rapidly, down the slope of the mountain-side.
+
+Brian sank almost immediately up to his waist in the snow. He noticed
+that the guide had turned his face to the descent and stretched out his
+arms, and he imitated this action as well as he was able, hoping in that
+manner to keep them free. But he was too deeply sunk in the snow to be
+able to turn round, and as he was in the rear of the others he could not
+see what became of his companions. He heard one shout from Gunston, and
+that was all--"Good God, Luttrell, we're lost!" And then the avalanche
+swept them onwards, first with a sharp, hissing sound, and then with a
+grinding roar as of thunder, and Brian gave himself up for lost, indeed.
+
+He was not sorry. Death was the easiest possible solution of all his
+difficulties. He had looked for it many times; but he was glad to think
+that on this day, at least, he had not sought it of his own free will.
+He thought of his mother--he could not call her otherwise in this last
+hour--he thought of the father and the brother who had been dear to him
+in this world, and would not, he believed, be less dear to him in the
+next; he thought of Angela, who would be a little sorry for him, and
+Hugo, whom he could no longer help out of his numerous difficulties. All
+these memories of his old home and friends flashed over his mind in less
+than a second of time. He even thought of the estate, and of the Miss
+Murray who would inherit it. And then he tried to say a little prayer,
+but could not fix his mind sufficiently to put any petition into words.
+
+And at this point he became aware that he was descending less rapidly.
+
+His head and arms were fortunately still free. By a side glance he saw
+that the snow at some distance before him had stopped sliding
+altogether. Then it ceased to move at a still higher point, until at the
+spot where he lay it also became motionless, although above him it was
+still rushing down as if to bury him in a living grave. He threw his
+hands up above his head, and made a furious effort to extricate himself
+before the snow should freeze around him. And in this effort he was more
+successful than he had even hoped to be. But the pressure of the snow
+upon him was so great that he thought at first that it would break his
+ribs. When the motion had ceased, however, this pressure became less
+powerful; by the help of his ice-axe he managed to free himself, and
+knew that he was as yet unhurt, if not yet safe.
+
+He looked round for his friend and for the guides. They had all been
+roped together, but the rope had broken between himself and his
+companions. He saw only one prostrate form, and, at some little
+distance, the hand of a man protruding from the white waste of snow.
+
+The thought of affording help to the other members of the party
+stimulated Brian to efforts which he would not, perhaps, have made on
+his own account. In a short time he was able to make his way to the man
+lying face downwards in the snow. He had already recognised him as one
+of the guides. It needed but a slight examination to convince him that
+this man was dead--not from suffocation or cold, but from the effects of
+a wound inflicted in the fall. The hand, sticking out of the snow
+belonged to the other guide; it was cold and stiff, and with all his
+efforts Brian could not succeed in extricating the body from the snow in
+which it was tightly wedged. Of the young Englishman, Gunston, and the
+other guide, there was absolutely nothing to be seen.
+
+Brian turned sick and faint when the conviction was forced upon him that
+he would see his friend no more. His limbs failed him; he could not go
+on. He was born to misfortune, he said to himself; born to bring trouble
+and sorrow upon his companions and friends. Without him, Gunston would
+not, perhaps, have attempted this ascent. And how could he carry home to
+Gunston's family the story of his death?
+
+After all, it was very unlikely that he would reach the bottom of the
+mountain in safety. He had no guide; he was utterly ignorant of the way.
+There were pitfalls without number in his path--crevasses, precipices,
+treacherous ice-bridges, and slippery, loose snow. He would struggle on
+until the end came, however; better to move, even towards death, than to
+lie down and perish miserably of cold.
+
+It is said sometimes that providence keeps a special watch over children
+and drunken men; that is to say, that those who are absolutely incapable
+of caring for themselves do sometimes, by wonderful good fortune, escape
+the dangers into which sager persons are apt to fall. So it seemed with
+Brian Luttrell. For hours he struggled onwards, sore pressed by cold,
+and fatigue, and pain; but at last, long after night had fallen, he
+staggered into a little hamlet on the southern side of the mountain,
+footsore and fainting, indeed, but otherwise unharmed.
+
+Nobody noticed his arrival very much. The villagers took him in, put him
+to bed, and gave him food and drink, but they did not seem to think that
+he was one of "the rich Englishmen" who sometimes visited their village,
+and they did not at all realise what he had done. To make the descent
+that Brian had done without a guide would have appeared to them little
+short of miraculous.
+
+Brian had no opportunity of explaining to them how he had come. He was
+carried insensible into the one small inn that the village contained and
+put to bed, where he woke up delirious and quite unable to give any
+account of himself. When his mind was again clear, he remembered that it
+was his duty to tell the story of the accident on the mountain, but as
+soon as he uttered a few words on the subject he was met by an animated
+and circumstantial account of the affair in all its details. Two
+Englishmen, and two guides, and a porter had been crossing the mountain
+when the avalanche took place; a guide and a porter had been killed, and
+their bodies had been recovered. One Englishman had been killed also,
+and the other----
+
+"Yes, the other," began Brian, hurriedly, but the innkeeper stolidly
+continued his story. The other had made his way back with the guide to
+the nearest town. He was there still, and had been making expeditions
+every day upon the mountain to find the dead body of his friend. But he
+had given up the search now, and was returning to England on the morrow.
+He had done all he could, poor gentleman, and it was more than a week
+since the accident took place.
+
+Brian suddenly put his head down on his pillow and lay still. Here was
+the chance for which his soul had yearned! If the innkeeper spoke the
+truth, he--Brian Luttrell--was already numbered amongst the dead. Why
+should he take the trouble to come back to life?
+
+"Were none of the Englishman's clothes or effects found?" he asked,
+presently.
+
+"Oh, yes, monsieur. His pocket-book--his hat. They were close to a
+dangerous crevasse. A guide was lowered down it for fifty, eighty, feet,
+but nothing of the unfortunate Englishman was to be seen. If he did not
+fall into the crevasse his body may be recovered in the spring--but
+hardly before. Yes, his pocket-book and his hat, monsieur." A sudden
+gleam came into the little innkeeper's eyes, and he spoke somewhat
+interrogatively--"Monsieur arrived here also without his hat?"
+
+For the first time the possibility occurred to the innkeeper's mind of
+his guest's identity with the missing Englishman. Brian answered with a
+certain reluctance; he did not like the part that he would have to play.
+
+"I lost my way in walking from V----," he said, mentioning a town at some
+distance from the mountain-pass by which he had really come; "and my hat
+was blown off by a gust of wind. The weather was not good. I lost my
+way."
+
+"True, monsieur. There was rain and there was wind: doubtless monsieur
+wandered from the right track," said the innkeeper, accepting the
+explanation in all good faith.
+
+When he left the room, Brian examined his belongings with care. Nothing
+in his possession was marked, owing to the fact that his clothes were
+mostly new ones, purchased with a view to mountaineering requirements.
+His pocket-book was lost. Mrs. Luttrell's letter and one or two other
+papers, however, remained with him, and he had sufficient money in his
+pockets to pay the innkeeper and preserve him from starvation for a
+time. He wondered that nobody had reported an unknown traveller to be
+lying ill in the village; but it was plain that his escape had been
+thought impossible. Even Gunston had given him up for lost. As he learnt
+afterwards, it was believed that he had not been able to sever the rope,
+and that he, with one of the guides, had fallen into a crevasse. The
+rope went straight down into the cleft, and he was believed to be at the
+end of it. There was not the faintest doubt in the mind of the survivors
+but that Brian Luttrell was dead. It remained for Brian himself to
+decide whether he should go back to the town, reclaim his luggage, and
+take up life again at the point where he seemed to have let it drop--or
+go forth into the world, penniless and homeless, without a name, without
+a hope for the future, and without a friend.
+
+Which should he do?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.
+
+
+"Elizabeth an heiress! Elizabeth, with a fortune of her own!" said Mrs.
+Heron. "It is perfectly incredible."
+
+"It is perfectly true," rejoined her step-son. "And it has been true for
+the last three days."
+
+"Then Elizabeth does not know it," replied Kitty.
+
+"As to whether she knows it or not," said Percival, sardonically, "I am
+quite unable to form any opinion. Elizabeth has a talent for keeping
+secrets."
+
+He was not sorry that the door opened at that moment, and that
+Elizabeth, entering with little Jack in her arms, must have heard his
+words. She flashed a quick look at him--it was one that savoured of
+reproach--and advanced into the middle of the room, where she stood
+silent, waiting to be accused.
+
+It was twelve o'clock on the morning of a bright, cold November
+day. Mrs. Heron was lying on the sofa in the dining-room--a
+shabbily-comfortable, old-fashioned room where most of the business of
+the house was transacted. Kitty sat on a low chair before the fire,
+warming her little, cold hands. She had a cat on her lap, and a novel on
+the floor beside her, and looked very young, very pretty, and very idle.
+Percival was fidgetting about the room with a glum and sour expression
+of countenance. He was evidently much out of sorts, both in body and
+mind, for his face was unusually sallow in tint, and there was a dark,
+upright line between his brows which his relations knew and--dreaded.
+The genial, sunshiny individual of a few evenings back had disappeared,
+and a decidedly bad-tempered young man now took his place.
+
+Mrs. Heron's pretty, pale face wore an unaccustomed flush; and as she
+looked at Elizabeth the tears came into her blue eyes, and she pressed
+them mildly with her handkerchief. Elizabeth waited in patience; she was
+not sure of the side from which the attack would be made, but she was
+sure that it was coming. Percival, with his hands thrust deep into his
+pockets, leaned against a sideboard, and looked at her with disfavour.
+She was paler than usual, and there were dark lines beneath her eyes.
+What made her look like that! Percival thought to himself. One might
+fancy that she had been lying awake all night, if the thing were not
+(under the circumstances) well-nigh impossible! But perhaps it was only
+her ill-fitting, unbecoming, old, serge gown that made her look so pale.
+Percival was in the humour to see all her faults and defects that
+morning.
+
+"Why do you carry that great boy about?" he said, almost harshly. "You
+know that he is too big to be carried. Do put him down."
+
+"Yes, put him down, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Heron, still pressing her
+handkerchief to her eye. "I am sure I have no desire to inflict any
+hardship upon you. If you devoted yourself to my children, I thought
+that it was from choice and because you had an affection for your
+uncle's family. But you seem to have had no affection--no respect--no
+confidence----"
+
+A gentle sob cut short her words.
+
+"What have I done?" said Elizabeth. Her face had turned a shade paler
+than before, but betrayed no sign of confusion. "Lie still, Jack; I do
+not mean to put you down just yet. Indeed, I think I had better carry
+you upstairs again." She left the room swiftly, pausing only at the door
+to add a few words: "I will be down again directly. I shall be glad if
+Percival will wait."
+
+There was a short silence, during which Mrs. Heron dried her eyes, and
+Percival stared uncomfortably at the toe of his left boot.
+
+"Surely Elizabeth has a right to her own secrets," said Kitty, from her
+station on the hearth. But nobody replied.
+
+Presently Elizabeth came down again, with a couple of letters in her
+hand. It seemed almost as if she had been upstairs to rub a little life
+and colour into her face, for her cheeks were carnation when she
+returned, and her eyes unusually bright.
+
+"Will you tell me what I have done that distresses you?" she said,
+addressing herself steadily to Mrs. Heron, though she saw Percival
+glance eagerly, hungrily, towards the letters in her hand.
+
+"Indeed, I have no right to be distressed," replied Mrs. Heron, still,
+however, in an exceedingly hurt tone. "Your own affairs are your own
+property, my dear Lizzie, as Kitty has just remarked; but, considering
+the care and--the--the affection-lavished upon you here----"
+
+She stopped short; Percival's dark eyes were darting their angry
+lightning upon her.
+
+"A care and affection," he said, "which condemned her to the nursery in
+order that she might indulge her extreme love for children, and save you
+the expense of a nursery-maid."
+
+"You have no right to make such a remark, Percival!" exclaimed his
+step-mother, feebly, but she quailed beneath the sneer instead of
+resenting it. Elizabeth turned sharply upon her cousin.
+
+"No," she said, "you have no right to make such a remark. As you know
+very well, I had no friends, no money, no home, when Uncle Alfred
+brought me here. I was a beggar--I should have starved, perhaps--but for
+him. I owe him everything--and I do not forget my debt."
+
+"Everything," said Percival, incisively, "except, I suppose, your
+confidence."
+
+She turned away and walked up to Mrs. Heron's sofa. Here her manner
+changed, it became soft and womanly; her voice took a gentler tone.
+"What is it, Aunt Isabel?" she said. "I am ready to give you all the
+confidence that you wish for. I will have no secrets from you."
+
+"Oh, then, Lizzie, is it true?" said Kitty, upsetting the cat in her
+haste, and flying across the room to her cousin's side, while Mrs.
+Heron, taken by surprise, did nothing but sob helplessly and hold
+Elizabeth's firm, white hand in a feeble grasp. "Is it really true? Have
+you inherited a great fortune? Are you going to be very rich?"
+
+Elizabeth made a little pause before she answered the question. "Brian
+Luttrell is dead," she said at last, rather slowly. "And I am very
+sorry."
+
+"And the Luttrells are your cousins? And you are the heiress after
+them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But when did you know this first?" said Kitty, anxiously looking up
+into her tall cousin's face.
+
+"Yes, when did you know it first?" repeated Mrs. Heron, with a weak and
+sighing attempt at solemnity.
+
+"I knew that I was the Luttrells' cousin all my life," said Elizabeth.
+There was a touch of perversity in her answer.
+
+"Yes--yes. But when did you know that you were the next heir--or
+heiress? You cannot have known that all your life," said Mrs. Heron.
+
+"I did not know that until a few days ago. I had a letter from a lawyer
+when Brian Luttrell went abroad. Mr. Brian Luttrell wished him to
+communicate with me and to tell me----"
+
+"Well?" said Mrs. Heron, curiously. "To tell you what?"
+
+"That it was probable that the property would come to me," Elizabeth
+answered, for the first time with some embarrassment, "as he did not
+intend to marry. And that he wished to settle a certain sum upon me--in
+case I might be in want of money now."
+
+"And that was a fortnight ago?" said Percival.
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, without looking at him, "nearly a fortnight ago."
+
+"This is very interesting," said Mrs. Heron, who was languidly
+brightening as she heard Elizabeth's story and recognised the fact that
+substantial advantages were likely to accrue to the household from
+Elizabeth's good fortune. "And of course you accepted the offer, Lizzie
+dear? But why did you not tell us at once?"
+
+"I waited until things should be settled. The matter might have fallen
+through. It did not seem worth while to mention it until it was
+settled," said Elizabeth.
+
+"How much did he offer you? Mr. Brian Luttrell must have been a very
+generous man."
+
+"I think he was--very generous," said Elizabeth, looking up warmly. "I
+considered the matter for some time, and I wished that I could accept
+his kindness, but----"
+
+"You don't mean to say that you refused it?"
+
+"I did not refuse it altogether," explained Elizabeth, her face glowing.
+"I told him my circumstances, and all that my uncle had done for me, and
+that if he chose to place a sum of money at my uncle's disposal--I
+thought that, perhaps, it would be only right, and that I ought not to
+place an obstacle in the way. But I could not take anything for myself."
+
+There was a little pause.
+
+"Oh, Lizzie, how good you are!" cried Kitty, softly.
+
+Percival took a step nearer; his face looked very dark.
+
+"And, pray, what did the lawyer say to your proposition?" he inquired.
+
+"He said he must communicate with Mr. Brian Luttrell, but he thought
+that there would be no objection to it on his part," said Elizabeth.
+"But he had not time to do so, you see. Brian Luttrell is dead. Here are
+all the letters about it, Aunt Isabel, if you want to see them. I was
+going to speak to Uncle Alfred this very day."
+
+"Well, Lizzie," said Mrs. Heron, taking the letters from her niece's
+hand, "I am glad that we are honoured by your confidence at last. I
+think it would have been better, however, if you had told us a little
+earlier of poor Mr. Luttrell's kindness, and then other people could
+have managed the business for you. Of course, it would have been
+repugnant to your feelings to accept money for yourself, and another
+person could have accepted it in your name with a much better grace."
+
+"But that is what I wanted to avoid," said Elizabeth, with a smile. "I
+would not have taken one penny for myself from Mr. Brian Luttrell, but
+if he would have repaid my uncle for part of what he has done for
+me----"
+
+Her sentence came to an abrupt end. Percival had turned aside and flung
+himself into an arm-chair near the fire. He was the picture of
+ill-humour; and something in his face took away from Elizabeth the
+desire to say more. Mrs. Heron read the letters complacently, and Kitty
+put her arm round her cousin's, waist and tried to draw her towards the
+hearth-rug for a gossip. But Elizabeth preserved her position near Mrs.
+Heron's sofa, although she looked down at the girl with a smile.
+
+"I know what Isabel meant--what we all meant," said Kitty, "when we were
+so disagreeable to you a little time ago, Lizzie. We all felt that we
+could not for one moment have kept a secret from you, and we resented
+your superior self-control. Fancy your knowing all this for the last
+fortnight, and never saying a word about it! Tell me in confidence,
+Lizzie, now didn't you want to whisper it to me, under solemn vows of
+secrecy?"
+
+"I'm afraid you would never have kept your vows," said Elizabeth. "I
+meant to tell you very soon, Kitty."
+
+"And so you are a rich woman, Elizabeth!" observed Mrs. Heron, putting
+down the letters and smoothing out her dress. "Dear me, how strangely
+things come round! Who would have dreamt, ten years ago, that you would
+ever be richer than all of us--richer than your poor uncle, who was then
+so kind to you! Some people are very fortunate!"
+
+"Some people deserve to be fortunate, Isabel," said Kitty, caressing
+Elizabeth's hand, in order to soften down the effect of Mrs. Heron's
+sub-acid speech. But Elizabeth did not seem to be annoyed by it. She was
+thinking of other things.
+
+"I am sure that if any one deserves it, Elizabeth does," said Mrs.
+Heron, recovering her usual placidity of demeanour. "She has always been
+good and kind to everyone around her. I tremble to think of what will
+become of dear Harry, and Will, and Jack."
+
+"What should become of them?" said Kitty, in a startled tone.
+
+"When Elizabeth leaves us"--Mrs. Heron murmured, applying her
+handkerchief to her eyes--"the poor children will know the difference."
+
+"But you won't leave us, will you, Elizabeth?" cried Kitty, clinging
+more closely to her cousin, and looking up to her with tears in her
+eyes. "You wouldn't go away from us, after living with us all these
+years, darling? Oh, I thought that you loved us as if you were really
+our own sister, and that nothing would ever take you away!"
+
+Still Elizabeth did not speak. Kitty's brown head rested on her
+shoulder, and she stroked it gently with one hand. Her lips were very
+grave, but her eyes, as she raised them for a moment to Percival's face,
+had a smile hidden in their hazel depths--a smile which he could not
+understand, and which, therefore, made him angry. He rose and stood on
+the hearth-rug with his hands behind him, as he delivered his little
+homily for Kitty's benefit.
+
+"I suppose you do not expect that Elizabeth will care to sacrifice
+herself all her life for us and the children," he said. "It would be as
+unreasonable of you to ask it as it would be foolish of her to do it. Of
+course, she will now begin to enjoy the world a little. She has had few
+enough enjoyments, hitherto--we need not grudge them to her now."
+
+But one would have thought that he himself, grudged them to her
+considerably.
+
+"What do you mean to do, Lizzie?" said Kitty, dolefully, "shall you take
+a house in town? or will you go and live in Scotland--all that long,
+long way from us? And shall you"--lifting her face rather
+wistfully--"shall you keep any horses and dogs?"
+
+Elizabeth laughed; she could not help it, although her laugh brought an
+additional pucker to the forehead of one of her hearers, who could not
+detect the tremulousness that lurked behind the clear, ringing tones.
+
+"It is well for you to laugh," he said, gloomily, "and, of course, you
+have the right, but----"
+
+"How interesting it will be," Mrs. Heron's, pensive voice was understood
+to murmur, when Percival's gruff speech had come to a sudden conclusion,
+"to notice the use dear Lizzie makes of her wealth! I wonder what her
+income will be, and whether the Luttrells' kept up a large
+establishment."
+
+"Oh," said Elizabeth, suddenly loosening herself from Kitty's arms and
+standing erect before them with a face that paled and eyes that deepened
+with emotion, "does it not occur to you through what trouble and misery
+this 'good fortune,' as you call it, has come to me? Does it not seem
+wrong to you to plan what pleasure I can get out of it, when you think
+of that poor mother sitting at home and mourning over her two sons--two
+young, strong men--dead in the very prime of life? And Miss Vivian, too,
+with her spoiled life and her shattered hopes--she once expected to be
+the mistress of the very house that they now call mine! I hate the
+thought of it. Please never speak to me as if it were a matter for
+congratulation. I should be heartily glad--heartily thankful--if Brian
+Luttrell were alive again!"
+
+She sat down, and put her elbows on the table and her hands over her
+face. The others looked at her in amaze. Percival turned to the fire and
+stared into it very hard. Mrs. Heron, who was rather afraid of what she
+called "Elizabeth's high-flown moods," murmured a suggestion to Kitty
+that she ought to go to the children, and glided languidly away,
+beckoning her step-daughter to follow her.
+
+Percival did not speak until Elizabeth raised her face, and then he was
+uncomfortably conscious that she had been crying--at least, that her
+long eyelashes were wet, and that in other circumstances he might have
+felt a desire to kiss the tears away. But this desire, if he had it,
+must now be carefully controlled. He did not look at her, therefore,
+when he spoke.
+
+"Your feeling is somewhat over-strained, Elizabeth. We are all sorry for
+the Luttrells' trouble; but it is absurd to say that we must not be glad
+of your good fortune."
+
+Elizabeth rose up with her eyes ablaze and her cheeks on fire.
+
+"You know that you are not glad!" she said, almost passionately. "You
+know that you would rather see me poor--see me the nursery-maid, the
+Cinderella, that you are so fond of calling me!"
+
+"Well," said Percival, with a short laugh, "for my own sake, perhaps, I
+would."
+
+"And so would I," said Elizabeth.
+
+"But you know, Lizzie, you will get over that feeling in time. You will
+find pleasure in your riches and your beauty; you will learn what
+enjoyment means--which you have had small chance of finding out,
+hitherto, in this comfortable household!" He laughed rather bitterly.
+"You are in the chrysalis state at present; you don't know what it is to
+be a butterfly. You will like that better--in time."
+
+"I will never be a butterfly--God helping me!" said Elizabeth. She spoke
+solemnly, with a noble light in her whole face which made it more than
+beautiful. Percival turned away his eyes from it; he did not dare to
+look. "If I have had wealth given me," said the girl, "I will use it for
+worthy ends. Others shall benefit by it as well as myself."
+
+"Don't squander it, Lizzie," said Percival, with a cynical smile,
+designed to cover the exceeding sadness and soreness of his heart. "Your
+philanthropist is not often the wisest person in the world."
+
+"No, but I will try to use it wisely," she said, with a touch of
+meekness in her voice which made him feel madly inclined to fall down
+and kiss the very hem of her garment--or rather the lowest flounce of
+her shabby, dark-blue, serge gown--"and my friends will see that I do
+not spend it foolishly. You do not think it would be foolish to use it
+for the good of others, do you, Percival? I suppose I shall be thought
+very eccentric if I do not take a large house in London, or go much into
+society; but, indeed, I should not be happy in spending money in those
+ways----"
+
+"Why, what on earth do you mean to do?" said Percival, sharply. "I see
+that you have some plan in your head; I should just like to know what it
+is."
+
+She was standing beside him on the hearth-rug, and she looked up at his
+face and down again before she answered.
+
+"Yes," she said, seriously, "I have a plan."
+
+"And you mean that I have no right to inquire what it is? You are
+perfectly correct; I have no right, and I beg your pardon for the
+liberty that I have taken. I think that I had better go."
+
+His manner was so restless, his voice so uneven and so angry, that
+Elizabeth lifted her eyes and studied his face a little before she
+replied.
+
+"Percival," she said at last, "why are you so angry with me?"
+
+"I'm not angry with you."
+
+"With whom or with what, then?"
+
+"With circumstances, I suppose. With life in general," he answered,
+bitterly, "when it sets up such barriers between you and me."
+
+"What barriers?"
+
+"My dear Elizabeth, you used to have faculties above those of the rest
+of your sex. Don't let your new position weaken them. I have surely not
+the least need to tell you what I mean."
+
+"You overrate my faculties," said Elizabeth. "You always did. I never do
+know what you mean unless you tell me. I am not good at guessing."
+
+"You need not guess then; I'll tell you. Don't you see that I am in a
+very unfortunate position? I said to you the other night that I--I loved
+you, that I would teach you to love me; and I could have done it,
+Elizabeth! I am sure that you would have loved me in time."
+
+"Well?" said Elizabeth, softly. Her lips were slightly tremulous, but
+they were smiling, too.
+
+"Well!" repeated her cousin. "That's all. There's an end to it. Do you
+think I should ever have breathed a word into your ear if I had known
+what I know now?"
+
+"The fact being," said Elizabeth, "that your pride is so much stronger
+than your love, that you would never tell a woman you loved her if she
+happened to have a few pounds more than you."
+
+"Exactly so," he answered, stubbornly.
+
+"Then--as a matter of argument only, Percival--I think you are wrong."
+
+"Wrong, am I? Do you think that a man likes to take gifts from his
+wife's hands? Do you think it is pleasant for me to hear you offer
+compensation to my father for the trifle that he has spent on you during
+the last few years, and not to be in a position to render such an
+offering unnecessary? I tell you it is the most galling thing in the
+world, and, if for one moment you thought me capable of speaking to you
+as I did the other night, now that I know you to be a wealthy woman, I
+could never look you in the face again. If I seem angry you must try to
+forgive me; you know me of old--I am always detestable when I am in
+pain--as I am now."
+
+He struck his foot angrily against the fender; his handsome face was
+drawn and lined with the pain of which he spoke.
+
+"Be patient, Percival," she said, with a smile which seemed to mock him
+by its very sweetness. "As you say to me, you may think differently in
+time."
+
+"And what if I do think differently? What good will it be?" he asked
+her. "I am not patient; I am not resigned to my fate, and I never shall
+be; does it make the loss of my hopes any easier to bear when you tell
+me that I shall think differently in time? You might as well try to make
+a man with a broken leg forget his pain by telling him that in a hundred
+years' time he will be dead and buried!"
+
+The tears stood in her eyes. She seemed startled by the intense energy
+with which he spoke; her next words scarcely rose above a whisper.
+"Percival," she said, "I don't like to see you suffer."
+
+"Then I will leave you," he said, sternly. "For, if I stay, I can't
+pretend that I do not feel the pain of losing you."
+
+He turned away, but before he had gone two steps a hand was placed upon
+his arm.
+
+"I can't let you go in this way," she said. "Oh, Percival, you have
+always been good to me till now. I can't begin a new life by giving you
+pain. Don't you understand what I want to say?"
+
+He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her face. The deep
+colour flushed his own, but hers was white as snow, and she was
+trembling like a leaf.
+
+"Do you love me, Elizabeth?" he said.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, simply, "but I will marry you, Percival,
+if you like."
+
+"That is not enough. Do you love me?"
+
+"Too well," she answered, "to let you go."
+
+And so he stayed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SAN STEFANO.
+
+
+When the vines were stripped of their clusters, and the ploughed fields
+stood bare and brown in the autumnal sun--when the fig trees lost their
+leaves, and their white branches took on that peculiarly gaunt
+appearance which characterises them as soon as the wintry winds begin to
+blow--a solitary traveller plodded wearily across the Lombardy plains,
+asking, as he went, for the road that would lead him to the village and
+monastery of San Stefano.
+
+He arrived at his destination on an evening late in November. It was
+between five and six o'clock when he came to the little, white village,
+nestling in a cleft of the hills, with the monastery on a slope behind
+it. There was a background of mountainous country--green, and grey, and
+purple--with solemn, white heights behind, stretching far into the
+crystal clearness of the sky. As the traveller reached the village he
+looked up to those white forms, and saw them transfigured in the evening
+light. The sky behind them changed to rose colour, to purple, violet,
+even to delicate pale green and golden, and, when the daylight had
+faded, an afterglow tinged the snowy summit with a roseate flush more
+tenderly ethereal than the tint of an oleander blossom, as transient as
+a gleam of April sunshine, or the changing light upon a summer sea. Then
+a dead whiteness succeeded; the day was gone, and, quick as lightning,
+the stars began to quiver in the blueness of the sky.
+
+The lights in the cottage windows gleamed not inhospitably, but the
+traveller passed them by. His errand was to the monastery of San
+Stefano, for there he fancied that he should find a friend. He had no
+reason to feel sure about it, but he was in a mental region where reason
+had little sway. He was governed by vague impulses and instincts which
+he did not care to controvert. He was faint, footsore, and weary, but he
+would not pause until he had reached the monastery gates.
+
+He rang the bell with a trembling hand. Its clangour startled him, and
+nearly made him fly from the place. If he had been less weak at that
+moment he would have turned away; as it was, he leaned against the high,
+white wall with an intolerable sense of discomfort and fatigue. When the
+porter came and looked out, it took him several minutes to discern,
+through the gathering darkness, the worn figure in waiting beside the
+gate.
+
+"I have come a long distance," stammered the traveller, in answer to the
+porter's exclamation. "I want rest and food. I was told by one of
+you--one who was called Brother Dino, I believe--that you gave
+hospitality to travellers----"
+
+"Come in, amico," said the porter, genially. "No explanations are needed
+when one comes to San Stefano. So you know our Brother Dino, do you? He
+is here again now, after two or three years in Paris. A fine scholar,
+they say, and a credit to the monastery. Come to the guest-room and I
+will tell him that you are here."
+
+To this monologue the stranger answered not a word. The porter had
+meanwhile allowed him to enter, and fastened the gate once more. He then
+led the way up a garden path to a second door, swinging his lantern and
+jingling his keys as he went. The traveller followed slowly; his
+battered felt hat was drawn low over his forehead, his garments, torn
+and travel-stained, gave the porter an impression that his pockets were
+not too well filled, and that he might even be glad of a little
+employment on the farm which the Brothers of San Stefano were so
+successful in cultivating. His tone was nonetheless cheery and polite as
+he ushered the stranger into a long panelled room, where a single
+oil-lamp threw a vague, uncertain light upon the tessellated floor and
+plain oak furniture.
+
+"You would like some polenta?" he said, as the wearied man sank into one
+of the wooden chairs with an air of complete exhaustion. "Or some of our
+good red wine? I will see about it directly. The signor can repose here
+until I return; I will fetch one of the Reverend Fathers by-and-bye, but
+they are all at Benediction at this moment."
+
+"I want to see Brother Dino," said the stranger, lifting his head. And
+then the porter changed his mind about the station of the visitor.
+
+That slightly imperious tone, the impatient glance of the dark eye, the
+unmistakably foreign accent, convinced him that he had to do with one of
+the tourists--English or American signori--who occasionally paid a visit
+to San Stefano. The porter himself was a lay-brother, and prided himself
+on his knowledge of the world. He answered courteously that Brother Dino
+should be informed, and then withdrew to provide the refreshment of
+which the stranger evidently stood in need.
+
+Brother Dino was not long in coming. He entered quickly, with a look of
+subdued expectation upon his face. A flash of joy and recognition leaped
+into his eyes as he beheld the wayworn figure in one of the antique
+carved oak chairs. His hands, which had been crossed and hidden in the
+wide sleeves of the habit that he wore, went out to the stranger with a
+gesture of welcome and delight.
+
+"Mr. Luttrell!" he exclaimed. "You are here already at San Stefano! We
+shall welcome you warmly, Mr. Luttrell!"
+
+The name seemed wonderfully familiar to his tongue. Brian, who had
+risen, held out his hands also, and the young monk caught them in his
+own; but Brian's gesture was an involuntary one, conveying more of
+apprehension than of greeting.
+
+"Not that name," he said, breathlessly. "Call me by any other that you
+please, but not that. Brian Luttrell is dead."
+
+Brother Dino shivered slightly, as if a cold breath of air had passed
+through the ill-lighted room, but he held Brian's hands with a still
+warmer pressure, and looked steadily into his haggard, hollow eyes.
+
+"What shall I call you, then, my brother?" he said, gently.
+
+"I have thought of a name," replied Brian, in curiously uncertain,
+faltering tones; "it will harm nobody to take it, because he is dead,
+too. Remember, my name is Stretton--John Stretton, an Englishman--and a
+beggar."
+
+Therewith he loosed his hands from Brother Dino's clasp, uttered a short
+laugh--it was a moan rather than a laugh, however--and fell like a stone
+into the Italian's arms. Dino supported him for a moment, then laid him
+flat upon the floor, and was about to summon help, when, turning, he
+came face to face with the Prior, Padre Cristoforo.
+
+Thirteen years had passed since Padre Cristoforo brought the friendless
+boy from Turin to the monastery amongst the pleasant hills. Those
+thirteen years had apparently transformed the smiling, graceful lad into
+a pale, grave-faced, young monk, whose every word and action seemed to
+be subordinated to the authority of the ecclesiastics with whom he
+lived. Time had thrown into strong relief the keenly intellectual
+contour of his head and face; it had hollowed his temples and tempered
+the ardour of those young, brave eyes; but there was more beauty of
+outline and sweetness of expression than had been visible even in the
+charming boyish face that had won all hearts when he came to San Stefano
+at ten years old.
+
+Thirteen years had changed Father Cristoforo but little. His tonsured
+head showed a fringe of greyer hairs, and his face was a little more
+blanched and wrinkled than it used to be; but the bland smile, the
+polished manner, the look of profound sagacity, were all the same. He
+gave one glance to Dino, one glance to the prostrate form upon the
+floor, and took in the situation without a moment's delay.
+
+"Fetch Father Paolo," he said, after inspecting Brian's face and lifting
+his nerveless hand; "and return with him yourself. We may want you."
+
+Father Paolo, the monk who took charge of the infirmary, soon arrived,
+and gave it as his opinion that the stranger was suffering from no
+ordinary fainting-fit, but from an affection of the brain. A bed was
+prepared for him in the infirmary, and a lay-brother appointed to attend
+upon him. Brian Luttrell could not have fallen ill in a place where he
+would receive more tender care.
+
+It was not until the sick man was laid in his bed that Father Cristoforo
+spoke again to Dino, who was standing a little behind him, holding a
+lamp. The rays of light fell full upon Brian's death-like face, and on
+the black and white crucifix that hung above his bed on the yellow wall.
+Dino's face was in deep shadow when the Prior turned and addressed him.
+
+"What was he saying when I came in? That his name was John--John----"
+
+"John Stretton, an Englishman," answered Dino, in an unmoved voice. "An
+Englishman and a beggar."
+
+Padre Christoforo did an unusual thing. He took the lamp from Brother
+Dino's hand and threw the light suddenly upon the young man's impassive
+countenance. Dino raised his great, serious eyes to the Prior's face,
+and then dropped them to the ground. Otherwise not a muscle of his face
+moved. He was the living image of submission.
+
+"Have you seen him before?" said Padre Cristoforo.
+
+"Twice, Reverend Father. Once on the boat between Cologne and Mainz; and
+once, for a moment only, in the quadrangle of the Cathedral at Mainz."
+
+"And then did he bear his present name?"
+
+For a moment Dino's mouth twitched uneasily. A faint colour crept into
+his cheeks. "Reverend Father," he said, hesitatingly, "I did not ask his
+name."
+
+The priest raised the lamp to the level of his head, and again looked
+penetratingly into his pupil's face. There was a touch of wonder, of
+pity, perhaps also of some displeasure, expressed in this fixed gaze. It
+lasted so long that Dino turned a little pale, although he did not
+flinch beneath it. Finally, the Prior lowered the lamp, gave it back to
+him, and walked away in silence, with his head lowered and his hands
+behind his back. Dino followed to light him down the dark corridors, and
+at the door of the Prior's cell, fell on his knees, as the custom was in
+the monastery, to receive the Prior's blessing. But, either from
+forgetfulness or some other reason which passed unexplained, Padre
+Cristoforo entered and closed the door behind him, without noticing the
+young man's kneeling figure. It was the first time such an omission had
+occurred since Dino came to San Stefano. Was it merely an omission and
+not a punishment? Dino had, for the first time in his life, evaded a
+plain answer to a question, and concealed from Padre Cristoforo
+something which Padre Cristoforo would certainly have thought that he
+ought to know. Had Padre Cristoforo divined the truth?
+
+According to the notions current amongst Italians, and particularly
+amongst many members of their church, Dino felt himself justified in
+equivocating in a case where absolute truth would not have served his
+purpose. His conscience did not reproach him for want of truthfulness,
+but it did for want of confidence in Padre Cristoforo. For he loved
+Padre Cristoforo; and Padre Cristoforo loved him.
+
+Brian Luttrell's illness was a long and severe one. He lay insensible
+for some time, and awoke to wild delirium, which lasted for many days.
+The Brothers of San Stefano nursed him with the greatest care, and it
+was observable that the Prior himself spent a good deal of time in the
+patient's room, and showed unusual interest in his progress towards
+recovery. The Prior understood English; but if he had hoped to gather
+any information concerning Brian's history from the ravings of his
+delirium he was mistaken. Brian's mind ran upon the incidents of his
+childhood, upon the tour that he had made with his father when he was a
+boy, upon his school-days; not upon the sad and tragic events with which
+he had been connected. He scarcely ever mentioned the names of his
+mother or brother. Like Falstaff, when he lay a-dying, be "babbled of
+green fields," and nothing more.
+
+At one time he grew better: then he had a relapse, and was very near
+death indeed; but at last the power of youth re-asserted itself, and he
+came slowly back to life once more. But it was as a man who had been in
+another world; who had faced the bitterness of death and the darkness of
+the grave.
+
+He was as much startled when he looked at himself for the first time in
+a looking-glass as a girl who has lost her beauty after a virulent
+attack of small-pox. Not that he had ever had much beauty to boast of;
+but the look of youth and hope which had once brightened his eyes was
+gone; his cheeks were sunken, his temples hollow, his features drawn and
+pinched with bodily pain and weakness. And--greatest change perhaps of
+all--his hair had turned from brown to grey; an alteration so striking
+and visible that, as he put down the little mirror which had been
+brought to him, he murmured to himself, with a bitter smile--"My own
+mother would not know me now." And then he turned his face away from the
+light, and lay silent and motionless for so long a space of time that
+the lay-brother who waited on him thought that he was sleeping.
+
+When he rose from his bed and was able to sit in the sunny garden or the
+cloisters, spring had come in all its tender glow of beauty, and sent a
+thrill of fresh life through the sick man's veins.
+
+Nature had always been dear to Brian. He loved the sights and sounds of
+country life. The hills, the waving trees, tranquil skies and running
+water calmed and refreshed his jaded brain and harrassed nerves. The
+broad fields, crimsoning with anemones, purpling with hyacinth and
+auricula; the fresh green of the fig trees, the lovely tendrils of the
+newly shooting vines even the sight of the oxen with their patient eyes,
+and the homely, feathered creatures of the farmyard, clucking and
+strutting at the sandalled feet of the black-robed, silent, lay-brothers
+who brought them food--all these things acted like an anodyne upon
+Brian's stricken heart. There was a life beside that of feeling; a life
+of passive, peaceful repose; the life of "stocks and stones," and happy,
+unresponsive things, amidst which he could learn to bear his burden
+patiently.
+
+He saw little of Dino during his illness; but, as soon as he was able to
+go into the garden, Dino was permitted to accompany him. It was plain
+from his manner that no unwillingness on his own part kept him away. The
+English stranger had evidently a great attraction for him; he waited
+upon his movements and followed him, silently and affectionately, like a
+dog whose whole heart has been given to its master. Brian felt the charm
+of this devotion, but was too weak to speculate concerning its cause. He
+was conscious of the same kind of attraction towards Dino; he knew not
+why, but he found it pleasant to have Dino at his side, to lean on his
+arm as they went down the garden path together, to listen to the young
+Italian's musical accents as he read aloud at the evening hour. But what
+was the secret of that indefinable mutual attraction, that almost
+magnetic power, which one seemed to possess over the other, Brian
+Luttrell could not tell. Perhaps Dino knew.
+
+This friendship did not pass unobserved. It was quietly, gently,
+fostered by the Prior, whose keen eyes were everywhere, and seemed to
+see everything at once. He it was who dispensed Dino from his usual
+duties that he might attend upon the English guest, who smiled benignly
+when he met them together in the cloister, who dropped a word or two
+expressive of his pleasure that Dino should have an opportunity of
+practising his knowledge of the English tongue. Dino could speak English
+with tolerable fluency, although with a strong foreign accent.
+
+But the quiet state of affairs did not last very long. As Brian's
+strength returned he grew restless and uneasy; and at length one day he
+sent a formal request to the Prior that he might speak to him alone.
+Padre Cristoforo replied by coming at once to the guest-chamber, which
+Brian occupied in the daytime, and by asking in his usual mild and
+kindly way what he could do for him.
+
+The guest-room was a bare enough place, but the window commanded a fine
+view of the wide plain on which the monastery looked down. The blinds
+were open, for the morning was deliciously cool, and the shadows of the
+leaves that clustered round the lattice played in the glow of sunshine
+on the floor. Brian was standing as the Prior entered the room; his
+wasted figure, worn face, and grey hairs made him a striking sight in
+that abode of peace and solitary quietness. It was as though some
+unquiet visitant from another world had strayed into an Italian Arcadia.
+But, as a matter of fact, Brian was probably less worldly in thought and
+aspiration at that moment than the serene-browed priest who stood before
+him and looked him in the face with such benignant friendly, interest.
+
+"You wished to see me, my son?" he began, gently.
+
+"I am ashamed to trouble you," said Brian. "But I felt that I ought to
+speak to you as soon as possible. I am growing strong enough to continue
+my journey--and I must not trespass on your hospitality any longer."
+
+"Your strength is not very great as yet," said the Prior, courteously.
+"Pray take a seat, Mr. Stretton. We are only too pleased to keep you
+with us as long as you will do us the honour to remain, and I think it
+is decidedly against your own interests to travel at present."
+
+Brian stammered out an acknowledgment of the Prior's kindness. He was
+evidently embarrassed, even painfully so; and Padre Cristoforo found
+himself watching the young man with some surprise and curiosity. What
+was it that troubled this young Englishman?
+
+Brian at last uttered the words that he had wished to say.
+
+"If I remained here," he said, colouring vividly with a sensitiveness
+springing from the reduced physical condition to which he had been
+brought by his long illness; "if I remained here I should ask you
+whether I could do any work for you--whether I could teach any of your
+pupils English or music. I am a poor man; I have no prospects. I would
+as soon live in Italy as in England--at any rate for a time."
+
+The Prior looked at him steadily; his deeply-veined hand grasped the arm
+of his wooden chair, a slight flush rose to his forehead. It was in a
+perfectly calm and unconstrained voice, however, that he made answer.
+
+"It is quite possible that we might find work of the kind you mention,
+signor--if you require it."
+
+There was a subdued accent of inquiry in the last four words. Brian
+laughed a little, and put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew out
+four gold pieces and a few little Swiss and Italian coins.
+
+"You see these, Father?" he said, holding them out in the palm of his
+hand. "They constitute my fortune, and they are due to the institution
+that has sheltered me so kindly and nursed me back to life and health. I
+have vowed these coins to your alms-box; when they are given, I shall
+make a fresh start in the world--as the architect of my own fortunes."
+
+"You will then be penniless!" said the priest, in rather a curious tone.
+
+"Entirely so."
+
+There was a short silence. Brian's fingers played idly with the coins,
+but he was not thinking about them; his dreamy eyes revealed that his
+thoughts were very far away. Padre Cristoforo was biting his forefinger
+and knitting his brows--two signs of unusual perturbation of mind with
+him. Presently, however, his brow cleared; he smoothed his gown over his
+knees two or three times, coughed once or twice, and then addressed
+himself to Brian with all his accustomed urbanity.
+
+"Our Order is a rich one," he said, with a smile, "and one that can well
+afford to entertain strangers. I will not tell you to make no gifts, for
+we know that it is very blessed to give--more blessed than to receive. I
+think it quite possible that we can give you such work as you desire.
+But before I do so, I think I am justified in asking you with what
+object you take it?"
+
+"With what object? A very simple one--to earn my daily bread."
+
+"And why," said the priest leaning forward and speaking in a lower
+voice--"why should your father's son need to earn his daily bread in a
+little Italian village?"
+
+Again Brian's face changed colour.
+
+"My father's son?" he repeated, vaguely. The coins fell to the ground;
+he sat up and looked at the Prior suspiciously. "What do you know about
+my father?" he said. "What do you know about me?"
+
+The Prior pushed back his chair. A little smile played upon his shrewd,
+yet kindly face. The Englishman was easier to manage than he had
+expected to find him, and Father Cristoforo was unquestionably relieved
+in his mind.
+
+"I do not know much about you," he said, "but I have reason to believe
+that your name is not Stretton--that you were recently travelling under
+the name of Brian Luttrell, and that you have a special interest in the
+village of San Stefano. Is that not true, my friend?"
+
+"Yes," said Brian slowly. "It is true."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE PRIOR'S OPINION.
+
+
+The Prior's face wore an expression of mild triumph. He was evidently
+prepared to be questioned, and was somewhat surprised when Brian turned
+to him gravely and addressed him in cold and serious tones.
+
+"Reverend Father," he said, "I am ignorant of the way in which you have
+possessed yourself of my secret, but, before a word more is spoken, let
+me tell you at once that it is a secret which must be kept strictly and
+sacredly between ourselves, unless great trouble is to ensue. It is
+absolutely necessary now that Brian Luttrell should be--dead."
+
+"What has Brian Luttrell done," asked the Prior, "that he should be
+ashamed of his own name?"
+
+"Ashamed!" said Brian, haughtily; "I never for one moment said that I
+was ashamed of it; but----"
+
+He turned in his chair and looked out of the window. A new thought
+occurred to him. Probably Padre Cristoforo knew the history of every one
+who had lived in San Stefano during the last few years. Perhaps he might
+assist Brian in his search for the truth. At any rate, as Padre
+Cristoforo already knew his name, it would do nobody any harm if he
+confided in him a little further, and told him something of the story
+which Mrs. Luttrell had told to him.
+
+Meanwhile, Padre Cristoforo watched him keenly as a cat watches a mouse,
+though without the malice of a cat. The Prior wished Brian no harm. But,
+for the good of his Order, he wished very much that he could lay hands,
+either through Brian or through Dino, upon that fine estate of which he
+had dreamt for the last thirteen years.
+
+"Father Cristoforo," Brian's haggard, dark eyes looked anxiously into
+the priest's subtilely twinkling orbs, "will you tell me how you learnt
+my true name?"
+
+He could not bear to cast a doubt upon Dino's good faith, and the Prior
+divined his reason for the question.
+
+"Rest assured, my dear sir, that I learnt it accidentally," he said,
+with a soothing smile. "I happened to be entering the door when our
+young friend Dino recognised you. I heard you tell him to call you by
+the name of Stretton; I also heard you say that Brian Luttrell was
+dead."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Brian, scarcely above his breath. "I thought that Dino
+could not have betrayed me."
+
+He did not mean the Prior to hear his words; but they were heard and
+understood. "Signor," said the Padre, with an inflection of hurt feeling
+in his voice, "Mr. Stretton, or Mr. Luttrell, however you choose to term
+yourself, Dino is a man of honour, and will never betray a trust reposed
+in him. I could answer for Dino with my very life."
+
+"I know--I was sure of it!" cried Brian.
+
+"But, signor, do you think it is right or wise to imperil the future and
+the reputation of a young man like Dino--without friends, without home,
+without a name, entirely dependent upon us and our provision for him--by
+making him the depository of secrets which he keeps against his
+conscience and against the rule of the Order in which he lives? Brother
+Dino has told me nothing; he even evaded a question which he thought
+that you would not wish him to answer; but, he has acted wrongly, and
+will suffer if he is led into further concealment. Need I say more?"
+
+"He shall not suffer through me," said Brian, impetuously. "I ought to
+have known better. But I was not myself; I don't remember what I said. I
+was surprised and relieved when I came to myself and found you all
+calling me Mr. Stretton. I never thought of laying any burden upon
+Dino."
+
+"You will do well, then," said the Prior, approvingly, "if you do not
+speak of the matter to him at all. He is bound to mention it if
+questioned, and I presume you do not want to make it known."
+
+"No, I do not. But I thought that he was bound only to mention matters
+that concerned himself; not those of other people," said Brian, with
+more hardihood than the priest had expected of him.
+
+Padre Cristoforo smiled, and made a little motion with his hand, as much
+as to say that there were many things which an Englishman and a heretic
+could not be expected to know. "Dino is in a state of pupilage," he
+said, slightly, finding that Brian seemed to expect an answer; "the
+rules which bind him are very strict. But--if you will allow me to
+advert once more to your proposed change of name and residence--I
+suppose that it is not indiscreet to remark that your friends in
+England--or Scotland--will doubtless be anxious about your place of
+abode at present?"
+
+"I do not think so," said Brian, in a low tone. "I believe that they
+think me dead."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Perhaps you did not hear in your quiet monastery, Father, of a party of
+travellers who perished in an avalanche last November? Two guides, a
+porter, and an Englishman, whose body was never recovered. I was that
+Englishman."
+
+"I heard of the accident," said Padre Cristoforo, briefly, nodding his
+head. "So you escaped, signor? You must have had strong limbs and stout
+sinews--or else you must have been attended by some special providential
+care--to escape, when those three skilled mountaineers were lost on the
+mountain side."
+
+"On ne meurt pas quand la mort est la délivrance," quoted Brian, with a
+bitter laugh. "You may be quite sure that if I had been at the height of
+felicity and good fortune, it would have needed but a false step, or a
+slight chill, or a stray shot--a stray shot! oh, my God! If only some
+stray shot had come to me--not to my brother--my brother----"
+
+They were the first tears that he had shed since the beginning of his
+illness. The sudden memory of his brother's fate proved too much for him
+in his present state of bodily weakness. He bowed his head on his hands
+and wept.
+
+A curiously soft expression stole into the Prior's face. He looked at
+Brian once or twice and seemed as if he wished to say some pitying word,
+but, in point of fact, no word of consolation occurred to him. He was
+very sorry for Brian, whose story was perfectly familiar to him; but he
+knew very well that Brian's grief was not one to which words could bring
+comfort. He waited silently, therefore, until the mood had passed, and
+the young man lifted up his heavy eyes and quivering lips with a faint
+attempt at a smile, which was sadder than those passionate sobs had
+been.
+
+"I must ask pardon," he said, somewhat confusedly. "I did not know that
+I was so weak. I will go to my room."
+
+"Let me delay you for one moment," said the Prior, confronting him with
+kindly authority. "It has needed little penetration, signor, to discover
+that you have lately passed through some great sorrow; I am now more
+sure of it than ever. I would not intrude upon your confidence, but I
+ask you to remember that I wish to be your friend--that there are
+reasons why I should take a special interest in you and your family, and
+that, humble as I am, I may be of use to you and yours."
+
+Brian stopped short and looked at him. "Me and mine!" he repeated to
+himself. "Me and mine! What do you know of us?"
+
+"I will be frank with you," said the priest. "Thirteen years ago a
+document of a rather remarkable nature was placed in my hands affecting
+the Luttrell family. In this paper the writer declared that she, as the
+nurse of Mrs. Luttrell's children, had substituted her own child for a
+boy called Brian Luttrell, and had carried off the true Brian to her
+mother, a woman named Assunta Naldi. The nurse, Vincenza, died and left
+this paper in the hands of her mother, who, after much hesitation,
+confided the secret to me."
+
+Brian took a step nearer to the Prior. "What right have you had to keep
+this matter secret so long?" he demanded.
+
+"Say, rather, what right had I to disturb an honourable family with an
+assertion that is incapable of proof?"
+
+"Then why did you tell me now?"
+
+"Because you know it already."
+
+Brian seated himself and leaned back in his chair, with his eyes still
+fixed upon the Prior's face.
+
+"Why do you think that I know it?" he said.
+
+"Because," said Padre Cristoforo, raising his long forefinger, and
+emphasising every fresh point with a convincing jerk, "because you have
+come to San Stefano. You would never have come here unless you wanted to
+find out the truth. Because you have changed your name. You would have
+had no reason to abandon the name of Luttrell unless you were not sure
+of your right to bear it. Because you spoke of Vincenza in your
+delirium. Do I need more proofs?"
+
+There was another proof which he did not mention. He had found Mrs.
+Luttrell's letter to Brian amongst the sick man's clothes, and had
+carefully perused it before locking it up with the rest of the
+stranger's possessions. It was characteristic of the man that, during
+the last few years, he had set himself steadily to work to master the
+English language by the aid of every English book or English-speaking
+traveller that came in his way. He had succeeded wonderfully well, and
+no one but himself knew for what purpose that arduous task had been
+undertaken. He found his accomplishment useful; he had thought it
+particularly useful when he read Mrs. Luttrell's letter. But naturally
+he did not say so to Brian.
+
+"You are right," said Brian, in a low voice. "But you say it is
+incapable of proof. She--my mother--I mean Mrs. Luttrell--says so, too."
+
+"If it were capable of proof," said the Prior, softly, "should you
+contest the matter?"
+
+"Yes," Brian answered, with an angry flash of his eyes, "if I had been
+in England, and any such claimant appeared, I would have fought the
+ground to the last inch! Not for the sake of the estates--I have given
+those up easily enough--but for my father's sake. I would not lightly
+give up my claim to call him father; he never doubted once that I was
+his son."
+
+"He never doubted?"
+
+"I am sure he never did."
+
+"But Mrs. Luttrell----"
+
+"God help me, yes! But she thinks also that I meant to take my brother's
+life."
+
+It needed but a few words of inquiry to lead Brian to tell the story of
+his brother's death. The Prior knew it well enough; he had made it his
+business to ascertain the history of the Luttrell family during the past
+few years; but he listened with the gentle and sympathetic interest
+which had often given him so strong a hold over men's hearts and lives.
+He was a master in the art of influencing younger men; he had the subtle
+instinct which told him exactly what to say and how far to go, when to
+speak and when to be silent; and Brian, with no motive for concealment,
+now that his name was once known, was like a child in the Prior's hands.
+
+In return for his confidence, Padre Cristoforo told him the substance of
+his interview with old Assunta, and of the confession written by
+Vincenza. But when Brian asked to see this paper the Prior shook his
+head.
+
+"I have not got it here," he said. "It was certainly preserved, by the
+desire of some in authority, but it was not thought to afford sufficient
+testimony."
+
+"What was wanting?"
+
+"I cannot tell you precisely what was wanting; but, amongst other
+matters, there is the fact that this Vincenza made a directly opposite
+statement, which counterbalances this one."
+
+"Then you have two written statements, contradicting each other? You
+might as well throw them both into the fire," said Brian, with some
+irritation. "Who is the 'authority' who preserves them? Can I not
+present myself to him and demand a sight of the documents?"
+
+"Under what name, and for what reason, would you ask to see them?"
+
+Brian winced; he had for the moment forgotten what his own hand had
+done.
+
+"I could still prove my identity," he said, looking down. "But, no; I
+will not. I did not lose myself upon the mountain-side because of this
+mystery about my birth, but because I wanted to escape my mother's
+reproaches and the burden of Richard's inheritance. Nothing will induce
+me to go back to Scotland. To all intents and purposes, I am dead."
+
+"Then," said the Prior, "since that is your resolution--your wise
+resolution, let me say--I will tell you frankly what my reading of the
+riddle has been, and what, I think, Vincenza did. It is my belief that
+Mrs. Luttrell's child died, and was buried under the name of Vincenza's
+child."
+
+"You, too, then--you believe that I am not a Luttrell?"
+
+"If the truth could ever be ascertained, which I do not think it will
+be, I believe that this would turn out to be the case. The key of the
+whole matter lies in the fact that Vincenza had twins. One of these
+children was sent to the grandmother in the country; one was nursed in
+the village of San Stefano. A fever had broken out in the village, and
+Vincenza's charge--the little Brian Luttrell--died. She immediately
+changed the dead child for her own, being wishful to escape the blame of
+carelessness, and retain her place; also to gain for her own child the
+advantages of wealth and position. The two boys, who have now grown to
+manhood, are brothers; children, of one mother; and Brian Luttrell--a
+baby boy of some four months old--sleeps, as his mother declares, in the
+graveyard of San Stefano."
+
+"Why did the nurse confess only a half-truth, then?"
+
+"She wanted to get absolution; and yet she did not want to injure the
+prospects of her child, I suppose. At the worst, she thought that one
+boy would be substituted for another. The woman was foolish--and
+wicked," said the Prior, with a grain of impatient contempt in his tone;
+"and the more foolish that she did not observe that she was outwitting
+herself--trying to cheat God as well as man."
+
+"Then--you think--that I----"
+
+"That you are the son of an Italian gardener and his wife. Courage, my
+son; it might have been worse. But I know nothing positively; I have
+constructed a theory out of Vincenza's self-contradictions; it may be
+true; it may be false. Of one thing I would remind you; that as you have
+given up your position in England and Scotland, you have no
+responsibility in the matter. You have done exactly what the law would
+have required you to do had it been proved that you were Vincenza's
+son."
+
+"But the other child--the boy who was sent to his grandmother? What
+became of him?"
+
+The Prior looked at him in silence for a little time before he spoke.
+"How do you feel towards him?" he said, finally. "Are you prepared to
+treat him as a brother or not?"
+
+Brian averted his face. "I have had but one brother," he said, shortly.
+"I cannot expect to find another--especially when I am not sure that he
+is of my blood or I of his."
+
+"In any case he is your foster-brother. I should like you to meet him."
+
+"Does he know the story?"
+
+"He does."
+
+"And is prepared to welcome me as a brother?" said Brian, with a bitter
+but agitated laugh. "Where is he? I will see him if you like."
+
+He had risen to his feet, and stood with his arms crossed, his brow
+knitted, his mouth firmly set. There was something hard in his face,
+something defiant in his attitude, which caused the Prior to add a word
+of remonstrance. "It is not his fault," he said, "any more than it is
+yours. You need not be enemies; it is my object to make you friends."
+
+"Let me see him," repeated Brian gloomily. "I do not wish to be his
+enemy. I do not promise to be his friend." |
+
+"I will send him to you," said the Prior. "Wait here till he comes."
+
+He left Brian alone; and the young man, thinking it likely that | he
+would be undisturbed for sometime to come, bent his face upon his hands,
+and tried to [missing word] his position. The strange tangle of
+circumstances in which he found himself involved would never be easy of
+adjustment; he wished with all his heart that he had refused the Prior's
+offer to make his foster-brother known to him, but it was too late now.
+Was it too late? Could he not send for Padre Cristoforo, and beg him to
+leave the Italian peasant in his own quiet home, ignorant of Brian's
+visit to the place where he was born? He would do it; and then he would
+leave San Stefano for ever; it was not yet too late.
+
+He lifted up his head and rose to his feet. He was not alone in the
+room. To his surprise he saw before him his friend, Dino.
+
+"You have come from Padre Cristoforo, have you?" said Brian, quickly and
+impetuously. He took no notice of the young man's manifest agitation and
+discomfort, which would have been clear to anybody less pre-occupied
+than Brian, at that moment. "Tell him from me that there is no need for
+me to see the man that he spoke of--that I do not wish to meet him. He
+will understand what I mean."
+
+A change, like that produced by a sudden electric shock, passed over
+Dino's face. His hands fell to his sides. They had been outstretched
+before, as if in greeting.
+
+"You do not want to see him?" he repeated.
+
+"I will not see him," said Brian, harshly, almost violently. "Weak as I
+am, I'll go straight out of the house and village sooner than meet him.
+Why does he want to see me? I have nothing to give him now."
+
+Long afterwards he remembered the look on Dino's face. Pain, regret,
+yearning affection, seemed to struggle for the mastery; his eyes were
+filled with tears, his lips were pale. But he said nothing. He went away
+from the room, and took the message that had been given him to the
+Prior.
+
+Brian felt that he had perhaps been selfish, but he consoled himself
+with the thought that the peasant lad would gain nothing by a meeting
+with him, and that such an embarrassing interview, as it must
+necessarily be, would be a pain to them both.
+
+But he did not know that the foster-brother (brother or foster-brother,
+which could it be?) was sobbing on the floor of the Prior's cell, in a
+passion of vehement grief at Brian's rejection of Padre Cristoforo's
+proposition. He would scarcely have understood that grief if he had seen
+it. He would have found it difficult to realise that the boy, Dino, had
+grown from childhood with a strong but suppressed belief in his mother's
+strange story, and yet, that, as soon as he saw Brian Luttrell, his
+heart had gone out to him with the passionate tenderness that he had
+waited all his life to bestow upon a brother.
+
+"Take it not so much to heart, Dino," said the Prior, looking down at
+him compassionately. "It was not to be expected that he would welcome
+the news. Thou art a fool, little one, to grieve over his coldness.
+Come, these are a girl's tears, and thou should'st be a man by now."
+
+The words were caressingly spoken, but they failed of their effect. Dino
+did not look up.
+
+"For one reason," said the Prior, in a colder tone, half to himself and
+half to the novice, "I am glad that he has not seen you. Your course
+will, perhaps, be the easier. Because, Dino, although I may believe my
+theory to be the correct one, and that you and our guest are both the
+children of Vincenza Vasari, yet it is a theory which is as difficult to
+prove as any other; and our good friend, the Cardinal, who was here last
+week, you know, chooses to take the other view."
+
+"What other view, Reverend Father?" said Dino.
+
+"The view that you are, indeed, Brian Luttrell, and not Vincenza's son."
+
+"But--you said--that it was impossible to prove----"
+
+"I think so, my dear son. But the Cardinal does not agree with me. We
+shall hear from him further. I believe it is the general opinion at Rome
+that you ought to be sent to Scotland in order to claim your position
+and the Luttrell estates. The case might at any rate be tried."
+
+Dino rose now, pale and trembling.
+
+"I do not want a position. I do not want to claim anything. I want to be
+a monk," he said.
+
+"You are not a monk yet," returned the Prior, calmly. "And it may not be
+your vocation to take the vows upon you. Now, do you see why you have
+been prevented from taking them hitherto? You may be called upon to act
+as a layman: to claim the estates, fight the battle with these Scotch
+heretics and come back to us a wealthy man! And in that case, you will
+act as a pious layman should do, and devote a portion of your wealth to
+Holy Church. But I do not say you would be successful; I think myself
+that you have little chance of success. Only let us feel that you are
+our obedient child, as you used to be."
+
+"I will do anything you wish," cried Dino, passionately, "so long as I
+bring no unhappiness upon others. I do not wish to be rich at Brian's
+expense."
+
+"He has renounced his birthright," said the Prior. "You will not have to
+fight him, my tender-hearted Dino. You will have a much harder foe--a
+woman. The estate has passed into the hands of a Miss Elizabeth Murray."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE VILLA VENTURI.
+
+
+An elderly English artist, with carefully-trimmed grey hair, a
+gold-rimmed eye-glass, and a velvet coat which was a little too hot as
+well as a little too picturesque for the occasion, had got into
+difficulties with his sketching apparatus on the banks of a lovely
+little river in North Italy. He had been followed for some distance by
+several children, who had never once ceased to whine for alms; and he
+had tried all arts in the hope of getting rid of them, and all in vain.
+He had thrown small coins to them; they had picked them up and clamoured
+only the more loudly; he had threatened them with his sketching
+umbrella, whereat they had screamed and run away, only to return in the
+space of five seconds with derisive laughter and hands outstretched more
+greedily than ever. When he reached the spot where he intended to make a
+sketch, his tormentors felt that they had him at their mercy. They
+swarmed round him, they peeped under his umbrella, they even threw one
+or two small stones at his back; and when, in desperation, their victim
+sprang up and turned upon them, they made a wild dash at his umbrella,
+which sent it into the stream, far beyond the worthy artist's reach.
+Then they took to their heels, leaving the good man to contemplate
+wofully the fate of his umbrella. It had drifted to the middle of the
+stream, had there been caught by a stone and a tuft of weed, and seemed
+destined to complete destruction. He tried to arrest its course, but
+could not reach it, and nearly over-balanced himself in the attempt;
+then he sat down upon the bank and gave vent to an ejaculation of mild
+impatience--"Oh, dear, dear, dear me! I wish Elizabeth were here."
+
+It was so small a catastrophe, after all, and yet it called up a look of
+each unmistakable vexation to that naturally tranquil and abstracted
+countenance, that a spectator of the scene repressed a smile which had
+risen to his lips and came to the rescue.
+
+"Can I be of any assistance to you, sir?" he said.
+
+The artist gave a violent start. He had not previously seen the speaker,
+who had been lying on the grass at a few yards' distance, screened from
+sight by an intervening clump of brushwood. He came forward and stood by
+the water, looking at the opened umbrella.
+
+"I think I could get it," he said. "The water is very shallow."
+
+"But--my dear sir--pray do not trouble yourself; it is entirely
+unnecessary. I do not wish to give the slightest inconvenience,"
+stammered the Englishman, secretly relieved, but very much embarrassed
+at the same time. "Pray, be careful--it's very wet. Good Heaven!" The
+last exclamation was caused by the fact that the new-comer had calmly
+divested himself of his boots and socks and was stepping into the water.
+"Indeed, it's scarcely worth the trouble that you are taking."
+
+"It is not much trouble to wade for a minute or two in this deliciously
+cool water," said the stranger, with a smile, as he returned from his
+expedition, umbrella in hand. "There, I think you will find it
+uninjured. It's a wonder that it was not broken. You would have been
+inconvenienced without it on this hot day."
+
+He raised his hat slightly as he spoke and moved away. The artist
+received another shock. This young man--for he moved with the strength
+and lightness of one still young, and his face was a young face,
+too--this young man had grey hair--perfectly grey. There was not a black
+thread amongst it. For one moment the artist was so much astonished that
+he nearly forgot to thank the stranger for the service that he had
+rendered him.
+
+"One moment," he said, hurriedly. "Pray allow me to thank you. I am very
+much obliged to you. You don't know how great a service you have done
+me. If I can be of any use to you in any way----"
+
+"It was a very trifling service," said the young man, courteously. "I
+wish it had been my good fortune to do you a greater one. This was
+nothing."
+
+"Foreign!" murmured the artist to himself, as the stranger returned to
+his lair behind the thicket, where he seemed to be occupying himself in
+putting on his socks and boots once more. "No Englishman would have
+answered in that way. I wish he had not disappeared so quickly. I should
+like to have made a sketch of his head. Hum! I shall not sketch much
+to-day, I fancy."
+
+He shut up his paint-box with an air of resolution, and walked leisurely
+to the spot where the young man was completing his toilet. "I ought
+perhaps to explain," he began, with an air which he fancied was
+Machiavellian in its simplicity, "that the loss of that umbrella would
+have been a serious matter to me. It might have entailed another and
+more serious loss--the loss of my liberty."
+
+The young man looked up with a puzzled and slightly doubtful expression.
+"I beg your pardon," he said. "The loss of----"
+
+"The loss of my liberty," said the Englishman, in a louder and rather
+triumphant tone of voice. "The fact is, my dear sir, that I have a very
+tender and careful wife, and an equally tender and careful daughter and
+niece, who have so little confidence in my power of caring for my own
+safety that they have at various times threatened to accompany me in all
+my sketching expeditions. Now, if I came home to them and confessed that
+I had been attacked by a troop of savage Italian children, who tossed my
+umbrella into the river, do you think I should ever be allowed to
+venture out alone again?"
+
+The young man smiled, with a look of comprehension.
+
+"Can I be of any further use to you?" he said. "Can I walk back to the
+town with you, or carry any of your things?"
+
+"You can be of very great use to me, indeed," said the gentleman,
+opening his sketch-book in a great hurry, and then producing a card from
+some concealed pocket in his velvet coat. "I'm an artist--allow me to
+introduce myself--my name is Heron; you would be of the very greatest
+use to me if you would allow me to--to make a sketch of your head for a
+picture that I am doing just now. It is the very thing--if you will
+excuse the liberty that I am taking----"
+
+He had his pencil ready, but he faltered a little as he saw the sudden
+change which came over his new acquaintance's face at the sound of his
+proposition. The young man flushed to his temples, and then turned
+suddenly pale. He did not speak, but Mr. Heron inferred offence from his
+silence, and became exceedingly profuse in his apologies.
+
+"It is of no consequence," said the stranger, breaking in upon Mr.
+Heron's incoherent sentences with some abruptness. "I was merely
+surprised for the moment; and, after all--I think I must ask you to
+excuse me; I have a great dislike--a sort of nervous dislike--to sitting
+for a portrait. I would rather that you did not sketch me, if you
+please."
+
+"Oh, certainly, certainly; I am only sorry that I mentioned it," said
+Mr. Heron, more formally than usual. He was a little vexed at his own
+precipitation, and also by the way in which his request had been
+received. For a few moments there was a somewhat awkward silence, during
+which the young man stood with his eyes cast down, apparently absorbed
+in thought. "A striking face," thought Mr. Heron to himself, being
+greatly attracted by the appearance of his new friend; "all the more
+picturesque on account of that curious grey hair. I wonder what his
+history has been." Then he spoke aloud and in a kindlier tone. "I will
+accept your offer of help," he said, "and ask you to walk back with me
+to the town, if you are going that way. I came by a short cut, which I
+am quite sure that I shall never remember."
+
+The young man awoke from his apparently sad meditations; his fine, dark
+eyes were lightened by a grateful smile as he looked at Mr. Heron. It
+seemed as though he were glad that something had been suggested that he
+could do. But the smile was succeeded by a still more settled look of
+gloom.
+
+"I must introduce myself," he said. "I have no card with me--perhaps
+this will do as well." He held out the book that he had been reading; it
+was a copy of Horace's _Odes_, bound in vellum. On the fly-leaf, a name
+had been scrawled in pencil--John Stretton. Mr. Heron glanced at it
+through his eye-glass, nodded pleasantly, and regarded his new friend
+with increased respect.
+
+"You're a scholar, I see," he said, good-humouredly, as they strolled
+leisurely towards the little town in which he had told John Stretton
+that he was staying; "or else you would not bring Horace out with you
+into the fields on a sunshiny day like this. I have forgotten almost all
+my classical lore. To tell the truth, Mr. Stretton, I never found it
+very much good to me; but I suppose all boys have got to have a certain
+amount of it drilled into them----?" He stopped short in an interrogative
+manner.
+
+"I suppose so," said Stretton, without a smile. His eyes were bent on
+the ground; there was a joyless contraction of his delicate, dark brows.
+It was with an evident effort that he suddenly looked up and spoke. "I
+have an interest in such subjects. I am trying to find pupils
+myself--or, at least, I hope to find some when I return to England in a
+week or two. I think," he added with a half-laugh, "that I am a pretty
+good classic--good enough, at least, to teach small boys!"
+
+"I dare say, I dare say," said Mr. Heron, hastily. He looked as if he
+would like to put another question or two, then turned away, muttered
+something inaudible, and started off upon a totally different subject,
+about which he laid down the law with unaccustomed volubility and
+decision. Stretton listened, assented now and then, but took care to say
+little in reply. A sudden turn in the road brought them close to a fine,
+old building, grey with age, but stately still, at the sight of which
+Mr. Heron became silent and slackened his pace.
+
+"A magnificent old place," said Stretton, looking up at it as his
+companion paused before the gateway.
+
+"Picturesque, but not very waterproof," said Mr. Heron, with a dismal
+air of conviction. "It is what they call the Villa Venturi. There are
+some charming bits of colour about it, but I am not sure that it is the
+best possible residence."
+
+"You are residing here?"
+
+"For the present--yes. You must come in and see the banqueting-hall and
+the terrace; you must, indeed. My wife will be delighted to thank you
+herself--for the rescue of the umbrella!" and Mr. Heron laughed quietly
+below his breath. "Yes, yes"--as Stretton showed symptoms of
+refusing--"I can take no denial. After your long, hot walk with me, you
+must come in and rest, if it is but for half-an-hour. You do not know
+what pleasure it gives me to have a chat with some one like yourself,
+who can properly appreciate the influence of the Renaissance upon
+Italian art."
+
+Stretton yielded rather than listen to any more of such gross and open
+flattery. He followed Mr. Heron under the gateway into a paved
+courtyard, flanked on three sides by out-buildings and a clock tower,
+and on the fourth by the house itself. Mr. Heron led the way through
+some dark, cool passages, expatiating as he went upon the architecture
+of the building; finally they entered a small but pleasant little room,
+where he offered his guest a seat, and ordered refreshments to be set
+before him.
+
+"I am afraid that everyone is out," Mr. Heron said, after opening and
+shutting the doors of two or three rooms in succession, and returning to
+Stretton with rather a discomfited countenance. "The afternoon is
+growing cool, you see, and they have gone for a drive. However, you can
+have a look at the terrace and the banqueting-hall while it's still
+light, and we shall hope for the pleasure of your company at some other
+time when my wife is at home, Mr. Stretton, if you are staying near us."
+
+"You are very kind," murmured Stretton. "But I fear that I must proceed
+with my journey to-morrow. I ought not to stay--I must not----"
+
+He broke off abruptly. Mr. Heron forgot his good manners, and stared at
+him in surprise. There was something a little odd about this grey-haired
+young man after all. But, after a pause, the stranger seemed to recover
+his self-possession, and repeated his excuses more intelligibly. Mr.
+Heron was sorry to hear of his probable departure.
+
+They wandered round the garden together. It was a pleasant place, with
+terraced walks and shady alcoves, so quaint and trim that it might well
+have passed for that fair garden to which Boccaccio's fine ladies and
+gallant cavaliers fled when the plague raged in Florence, or for the
+scene on which the hapless Francesca looked when she read the story of
+Lancelot that led to her own undoing. Some such fancies as these passed
+through the crannies of Stretton's mind while he seemed to be listening
+to Mr. Heron's mildly-pedantic allocutions, and absorbed in the
+consideration of mediæval art. Mr. Heron was in raptures with his
+listener.
+
+"Oh, by-the-bye," said the artist, suddenly, as they paused beside one
+of the windows on the terrace, "if I may trouble you to wait here a
+minute, I will go and fetch the sketch I have made of the garden from
+this point. You will excuse me for a moment. Won't you go inside the
+house? The window is open--go in, if you like."
+
+He disappeared into another portion of the house, leaving Stretton
+somewhat amused by his host's unceremonious demeanour. He did not accept
+the invitation; he leaned against the wall rather languidly, as though
+fatigued by his long walk, and tried to make friends with a beautiful
+peacock which seemed to expect him to feed it, and yet was half-afraid
+to approach.
+
+As he waited, a gentle sound, of which he had been conscious ever since
+he halted close to the window, rose more distinctly upon his ear. It was
+the sound of a voice engaged in some sort of monotonous reading or
+reciting, and it seemed first to advance to the window near which he
+stood and then to recede. He soon discovered that it was accompanied by
+a soft but regular footfall. It was plain that somebody--some woman,
+evidently--was pacing the floor of the room to which this window
+belonged, and that she was repeating poetry, either to herself or to
+some silent listener. As she came near the window, Stretton heard the
+words of an old ballad with which he was himself familiar--
+
+    "I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
+      Wi' the old moon in her arm:
+    And if we gang to sea, master,
+      I fear we'd come to harm."
+
+The voice died away as it travelled down the space of the long room.
+Presently it came nearer; the verses were still going on--
+
+    "Oh, lang, lang may the ladies sit,
+      With their fans into their hand,
+    Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
+      Come sailing to the strand.
+
+    And lang lang may the maidens sit,
+      With their gowd combs in their hair,
+    A' waiting for their ain dear loves,
+      For them they'll see nae mair."
+
+"Betty," said a feeble little voice--a child's voice, apparently quite
+close to the window now--"I want you to say those two verses over again;
+I like them. And the one about the old moon with the new moon in her
+arms; isn't that pretty?"
+
+"You like that, do you, my little Jack?" said the woman's voice; a rich,
+low voice, so melodious in its loving tones that Stretton positively
+started when he heard it, for it had been carefully subdued to monotony
+during the recitation, and he had not realised its full sweetness. "Do
+you know, darling, I thought that you were asleep?"
+
+"Asleep, Betty? I never go to sleep when you are saying poetry to me.
+Aren't you tired of carrying me?"
+
+"I am never tired of carrying you, Jack."
+
+"My own dear, sweet Queen Bess!" There was the sound of a long, loving
+kiss; and then the slow pacing up and down and the recitation
+re-commenced.
+
+Stretton had thought that morning that nothing could induce him to
+interest himself again in the world's affairs; but at that moment he was
+conscious of the strongest possible feeling of curiosity to see the
+owner of so sweet a voice. The slightest movement on his part, the
+slightest possible push given to the window, which opened into the room
+like a door and was already ajar, would have enabled him to see the
+speakers. But he would not do this. He told himself that he ought to
+move away from the window, but self-government failed him a little at
+that point. He could not lose the opportunity of hearing that beautiful
+voice again. "It ought to belong to a beautiful woman," he thought, with
+a half smile, "but, unfortunately, Nature's gifts are distributed very
+sparingly sometimes. This girl, whosoever she may be--for I know she is
+young--has a lovely voice, and probably a crooked figure or a squint. I
+suppose she is Mr. Heron's daughter. Ah, here he comes!"
+
+The artist's flying grey beard and loose velvet coat were seen upon the
+terrace at this moment. "I cannot find the sketch," he cried,
+dolorously. "The servants have been tidying the place whilst I was
+out--confound them! You must positively stop over to-morrow and see it.
+This is the banqueting-room--why didn't you go in?" And he pushed wide
+the window which the young man had refrained from opening a single inch.
+
+A flood of light fell on a yard or two of polished oak flooring; but at
+first Stretton could see nothing more, for the rest of the room seemed
+to be in complete darkness to his dazzled eyed. The blinds of the
+numerous windows were all drawn down, and some minutes elapsed before he
+could distinguish any particular object in the soft gloom of the
+apartments. And then he saw that Mr. Heron was speaking to a lady in
+white, and he discovered at once, with a curious quickening of his
+pulses, that the reciter of the ballad stood before him with a child in
+her arms.
+
+She was beautiful, after all! That was Stretton's first thought. She was
+as stately as a queen, with a natural crown of golden-brown hair upon
+her well-poised head; the grand lines of her figure were emphasized by
+the plainness of her soft, white dress, which fell to her feet in folds
+that a sculptor might have envied. The only ornament she wore was a
+string of Venetian beads round the milky whiteness of her throat, but
+her beauty was not of a kind that required adornment. It was like that
+of a flower--perfect in itself, and quite independent of exterior aid.
+In fact, she was not unlike some tall and stately blossom, or so
+Stretton thought, no exotic flower, but something as strong and hardy as
+it was at the same time delicately beautiful. Her eyes had the colouring
+that one sees in the iris-lily sometimes--a tint which is almost grey,
+but merges into purple; eyes, as the poet says--
+
+    "Too expressive to be blue.
+    Too lovely to be grey."
+
+In her arms she carried little Jack Heron, and by the way in which she
+held him, it was plain that she was well accustomed to the burden, and
+that his light weight did not tire her well-knit, vigorous limbs. His
+pale, little face looked wistfully at the stranger; it was a curious
+contrast to the glowing yet delicate beauty and perfect health presented
+by the countenance of his cousin Elizabeth.
+
+Meanwhile, Mr. Heron was introducing the stranger, which he did with a
+note of apology in his voice, which Stretton was not slow to remark. But
+Elizabeth--he did not catch her name, and still thought her to be a Miss
+Heron--soon put him at his ease. She accompanied the artist and his
+friend round the banqueting-hall, as they inspected the fine, old
+pictures with which it was hung; she walked with them on the
+terrace--little Jack still cradled in her arms; and wheresoever she
+went, it seemed to Stretton that he had never in all his life seen any
+woman half so fair.
+
+He did not leave the house, after all, until late that night. He dined
+with the Herons; he saw Mrs. Heron, and Kitty, and the boys; but he had
+no eyes nor ears for anyone but Elizabeth. He did not know why she
+charmed him; he knew only that it was a pleasure to him to see and hear
+her slightest word and movement; and he put this down to the fact that
+she had a sympathetic voice, and a face of undoubted beauty. But in very
+truth, John Stretton--alias Brian Luttrell--returned to his inn that
+night in the brilliant Italian moonlight, having (for the first time in
+his life, be it observed) fallen desperately, passionately in love. And
+the woman that he loved was the heiress of the Luttrell estates; the
+last person in the world whom he would have dreamt of loving, had he but
+known her name.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+"WITHOUT A REFERENCE."
+
+
+Brian--or to avoid confusion, let us call him by the name that he had
+adopted, Stretton--rose early, drank a cup of coffee, and was sitting in
+the little verandah outside the inn, looking dreamily out towards a
+distant view of the sea, and thinking (must the truth be told?) of
+Elizabeth, when a visitor was announced. He looked round, and, to his
+surprise, beheld Mr. Heron.
+
+The artist was graver in manner and also a little more nervous than
+usual. After the first greetings were over he sank into an embarrassed
+silence, played with his watch-chain and his eye-glass, and, at last,
+burst somewhat abruptly into the subject upon which he had really come
+to speak.
+
+"Mr. Stretton," he said, "I trust that you will excuse me if I am taking
+a liberty; but the fact is, you mentioned to me yesterday that you
+thought of taking pupils----"
+
+"Yes," Stretton answered, simply. "I should be very glad if I could find
+any."
+
+"We think that we could find you some, Mr. Stretton."
+
+The young man's pale face flushed; but he did not speak. He only looked
+anxiously at the artist, who was pulling his pointed grey beard in a
+meditative fashion, and seemed uncertain how to proceed with his
+proposition.
+
+"I have two boys running wild for want of a tutor," he said at last. "We
+shall be here some weeks longer, and we don't know what to do with them.
+My wife says they are too much for her. Elizabeth has devoted herself to
+poor little Jack (something sadly wrong with his spine, I'm afraid, Mr.
+Stretton). Kitty--well, Kitty is only a child herself. The point
+is--would it be a waste of your time, Mr. Stretton, to ask you to spend
+a few weeks in this neighbourhood, and give these boys two or three
+hours a day? We thought that you might find it worth your while."
+
+Stretton was standing, with his shoulder against one of the vine-clad
+posts that supported the verandah. Mr. Heron wondered at his
+discomposure; for his colour changed from red to white and from white to
+red as sensitively as a girl's, and it was with evident difficulty that
+he brought himself to speak. But when he spoke the mystery seemed, in
+Mr. Heron's eyes, to be partly solved.
+
+"I had better mention one thing from the very first," said the young
+man, quietly. "I have no references. I am afraid the lack of them will
+be a fatal drawback with most people."
+
+"No references!" stammered Mr. Heron, evidently much taken aback.
+"But--my dear young friend--how do you propose to get a tutor's work
+without them?"
+
+"I don't know," said Stretton, with a smile in which a touch of
+sternness made itself felt rather than seen. "I don't suppose that I
+shall get very much work at all. But I hope to earn my bread in one way
+or another."
+
+"I--I--well, I really don't know what to say," remarked Mr. Heron,
+getting up, and buttoning his yellow gloves reflectively. "I should have
+no objection. I judge for myself, don't you know, by the face and the
+manner and all that sort of thing; but it's a different thing when it
+comes to dealing with women, you know. They are so particular----"
+
+"I am afraid I should not suit Mrs. Heron's requirements," said
+Stretton, in a very quiet tone.
+
+"It isn't that exactly," said Mr. Heron, hesitating; "and yet--well, of
+course, you know it isn't the usual thing to be met with the plain
+statement that you have no references! Not that I might even have
+thought of asking for them; ten to one that it would ever have occurred
+to me--but my wife----. Come, you don't mean it literally? You have
+friends in England, no doubt, but you don't want to apply to them."
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Heron; I spoke the literal truth. I have no references
+to give either as to character, attainments, or birth. I have no
+friends. And I agree with you and Mrs. Heron that I should not be a fit
+person to teach your boys their Latin accidence--that's all."
+
+"Not so fast, if you please," said Mr. Heron, more impressed by
+Stretton's tone of cold independence than he would have been by sheaves
+of testimonials to his abilities; "not so fast, my good fellow. Now,
+will you do me a favour? Let me think the matter over for half-an-hour,
+and come to you again. Then we will decide the matter, one way or the
+other."
+
+"I should prefer to consider the matter decided now," said Stretton.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear sir, you must not be hasty. In half-an-hour I shall
+see you again," cried the artist, as he turned his back on the young
+man, and walked off towards the Villa Venturi, swinging his stick
+jauntily in his hand. Stretton watched him, and bit his lip.
+
+"I was a fool to say that I wanted work," he said to himself, "and
+perhaps a greater fool to blurt out the fact that I had no respectable
+references so easily. However, I've done for myself in that quarter. The
+British dragon, Mrs. Grundy, would never admit a man as tutor to her
+boys under these mysterious circumstances. All the better, perhaps. I
+should be looked upon with suspicion, as a man 'under a cloud.' And I
+should not like that, especially in the case of that beautiful Miss
+Heron, whose clear eyes seem to rebuke any want of candour or courage by
+their calm fearlessness of gaze. Well, I shall not meet her under false
+pretences now, at any rate." And then he gave vent to a short, impatient
+sigh, and resumed the seat that he had vacated for Mr. Heron's benefit.
+
+He tried to read; but found, to his disgust, that he could not fix his
+mind on the printed page. He kept wondering what report Mr. Heron was
+giving to his wife and family of the interview that he had had with the
+English tutor "without references."
+
+"Perhaps they think that I was civil to the father because I hoped to
+get something out of them," said Stretton to himself, frowning anxiously
+at the line of blue sea in the distance. "Perhaps they are accusing me
+of being a rank impostor. What if they do? What else have I been all my
+life? What a fool I am!"
+
+In despair he flung aside his book, went up to his bed-room, and began
+to pack the modest knapsack which contained all his worldly wealth. In
+half-an-hour--when he had had that five minutes' decisive conversation
+with Mr. Heron--he would be on his way to Naples.
+
+He had all but finished his packing when the landlord shuffled upstairs
+to speak to him. There was a messenger from the Villa Venturi. There was
+also a note. Stretton opened it and read:--
+
+     "Dear Mr. Stretton,--Will you do me the favour to come up to the
+     villa as soon as you receive this note? I am sorry to trouble you,
+     but I think I can explain my motive when we meet.
+
+     "Yours truly,
+
+     "Alfred Heron."
+
+Stretton crumpled the note up in his hand, and let it drop to the floor.
+He glanced at his knapsack. Had he packed it too soon or not?
+
+He followed the servant, whom he found in waiting for him--a stolid,
+impenetrable-looking Englishman, who led the way to an entrance into the
+garden of the villa--an entrance which Stretton did not know.
+
+"Is your master in the garden? Does he wish me to come this way?" he
+asked, rather sharply.
+
+The stolid servant bowed his head.
+
+"My master desired me to take you to the lower terrace, sir, if you
+didn't find it too 'ot," he said, solemnly. And Stretton said nothing
+more. The lower terrace? It was not the terrace by the house; it was one
+at the further end of the garden, and, as he soon saw, it was upon a
+cliff overlooking the sea. It was overshadowed by the foliage of some
+great trees, and commanded a magnificent view of the coast, broken here
+and there into inlets and tiny bays, beyond which stretched "the deep
+sapphire of the sea." A slight haze hung over the distance, through
+which the forms of mountain peaks and tiny islets could yet be clearly
+seen. The wash of the water at the foot of the cliff, the chirp of the
+cicadas, were the only sounds to be heard. And here, on a low, wooden
+bench, in the deepest and coolest shade afforded by the trees, Stretton
+found--not Mr. Heron, as he had expected, but--Elizabeth.
+
+He bowed, hesitating and confused for the moment, but she gave him her
+white hand with a friendly look which set him at his ease, just as it
+had done upon his entrance to the villa on the previous evening.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Stretton," she said, "will you not? My uncle has gone up
+to the house for a paper, or a book, or something, and I undertook to
+entertain you until he came back. Have we not a lovely view? And one is
+always cool here under the trees, now that the heats of summer are past.
+I think you will find it a good place to read in when you are tired of
+giving lessons--that is, if you are going to be so kind as to give
+lessons to our troublesome boys."
+
+She had looked at him once, and in that glance she read what would have
+taken Mr. Heron's obtuse male intellect weeks to comprehend. She saw the
+young man's slight embarrassment and the touch of pride mingling with
+it; she noticed the spareness of outline and the varying colour which
+suggested recent illness, or delicacy of health; above all, she observed
+the expression of his face, high, noble, refined, as it had always been,
+but darkened by some inexplicable shadow from the past, some trace of
+sorrow which could never be altogether swept away. Seeing all these
+things, she knew instinctively that the calmest and quietest way of
+speaking would suit him best, and she felt that she was right when he
+answered, in rather low and shaken tones--
+
+"Pardon me. It is for Mr. Heron to decide; not for me."
+
+"I think my uncle has decided," said Elizabeth. "He asked me to
+ascertain when you would be willing to give the boys their first
+lesson."
+
+"He said that, now? Since he saw me?" cried Stretton, as if in
+uncontrollable surprise.
+
+Elizabeth's lips straightened themselves for a moment. Then she turned
+her face towards the young man, with the look of mingled dignity and
+candour which had already impressed him so deeply, and said, gently--
+
+"Is there anything to be surprised at in that?"
+
+"Yes," said Stretton, hanging his head, and absently pulling forward a
+long spray of clematis which grew beside him. "It is a very surprising
+thing to me that Mr. Heron should take me on trust--a man without
+recommendation, or influence, or friends." He plucked the spray as he
+spoke, and played restlessly with the leaves. Elizabeth watched his
+fingers; she saw that the movement was intended to disguise the fact
+that they were trembling. "As it is," he went on, "even though your
+father--I beg pardon, your uncle--admits me to this house, I doubt
+whether I do well to come. I think it would be better in many ways that
+I should decline this situation."
+
+He let the leaves fall from his hand and rose to his feet. "Will you
+tell Mr. Heron what I say?" he asked, in an agitated voice. "Tell him I
+will not take advantage of his kindness. I will go on to Naples--this
+afternoon."
+
+Elizabeth was puzzled. This was a specimen of humanity the like of which
+she had never met before. It interested her; though she hardly wished to
+interfere in the affairs of a man who was so much of a riddle to her.
+That he was a stranger and that he was young--not much older than
+herself, very probably--were facts that did not enter her mind with any
+deterrent force.
+
+But as Stretton lifted his hat and turned to leave her, she noticed how
+white and wan he looked.
+
+"Mr. Stretton," she said, imperiously, "please to sit down. You are not
+to attempt that long, hot walk again just now. Besides, you must wait to
+see my uncle. Sit down, please. Now, tell me, you have been ill lately,
+have you not?"
+
+"Yes," said Stretton, seating himself as she bade him, and answering
+meekly. "I had brain fever more than a year ago at the monastery of San
+Stefano, and my recovery was a slow one."
+
+"I know the Prior of San Stefano--Padre Cristoforo. Do you remember
+him?"
+
+"Yes. He was very good to me. I was there for twelve months or more. He
+gave me work to do in the school."
+
+"Will you mention that to my uncle? He is very fond of Padre
+Cristoforo."
+
+"I thought," said Stretton, colouring a little, and almost as though he
+were excusing himself, "that it would be useless to give the name of a
+Romanist Prior as a referee to Mr. Heron. Most people would think it an
+objection in itself?"
+
+"Why not give English names, then?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Because I have no English friends."
+
+There was a little silence. Stretton was leaning back in his seat,
+looking quietly out to sea; Elizabeth was sitting erect, with her hands
+crossed on her lap. Presently she spoke, but without turning her head.
+
+"Mr. Stretton, I do not want you to think my remarks impertinent or
+uncalled for. I must tell you first that I am in a somewhat unusual
+position. My aunt is an invalid, and does not like to be troubled about
+the children; my uncle hates to decide anything for himself. They have
+fallen into the habit--the unlucky habit for me--of referring many
+practical matters to my decision, and, therefore, you will understand
+that my uncle came to me on his return from the inn this morning and
+told me what you had said. I want to explain all this, so that you may
+see how it is that I have heard it so quickly. No one else knows."
+
+"You are very good," said Stretton, feeling his whole heart strengthened
+and warmed by this frank explanation. "I think you must see how great a
+drawback my absence of recommendations is likely to be to me."
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, seriously, "I do. But if you cannot overcome it
+in this case, how are you going to overcome it at all?"
+
+"I don't know, Miss Heron."
+
+"You said that you wished to take pupils," Elizabeth went on, too much
+interested in the subject to notice the mistake made in her name; "you
+told my uncle so, I believe. Will you get them more easily in England
+than here?"
+
+"I shall no doubt find somebody who will forego the advantages of a
+'character' for the sake of a little scholarship," said Stretton, rather
+bitterly. "Some schoolmaster, who wants his drudgery done cheap."
+
+"Drudgery, indeed!" said Elizabeth, softly. Then, after a pause--"That
+seems a great pity. And you are an Oxford man, too!"
+
+Stretton looked up, "How do you know that?" he said, almost sharply.
+
+"You talked of Balliol last night as if you knew it."
+
+"You have a good memory, Miss Heron. Yes, I was at Balliol; but you will
+not identify me there. The truth will out, you see; I was not at Oxford
+under my present name."
+
+He thought he should read a look of shocked surprise upon her face; but
+he was mistaken. She seemed merely to be studying him with grave,
+womanly watchfulness; not to be easily biassed, nor lightly turned
+aside.
+
+"That is your own affair, of course," she said. "You have a right to
+change your name if you choose. In your own name, I dare say you would
+have plenty of friends."
+
+"I had," he answered, gravely, but not, as she noticed, as if he were
+ashamed of having lost them.
+
+"And you have none now?"
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"Through your own fault?" She wondered afterwards how she had the
+courage to ask the question; but, at the moment, it came naturally to
+her lips, and he answered it as simply as it was asked.
+
+"No. Through my misfortune. Pray ask me nothing more."
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "I ought not to have asked anything. But
+I was anxious--for the children's sakes--and there was nobody to speak
+but myself. I will say nothing more."
+
+"I shall beg of you," said Stretton, trying to speak in as even a tone
+as hers, although the muscles round his lips quivered once or twice and
+made utterance somewhat difficult, "I shall beg of you to tell what I
+have said to Mr. Heron only; you and he will perhaps kindly guard my
+secret. I wish I could be more frank; but it is impossible. I trust
+that, when I find employment, my employers will be as kind, as generous,
+as you have been to-day. You will tell your uncle?"
+
+"What am I to tell him?" she said, turning her eyes upon him with a
+kindly smile in their serene depths. "That you will be here to-morrow at
+nine o'clock--or eight, before the day grows hot? Eight will be best,
+because the boys get so terribly sleepy and cross, you know, in the
+middle of the day; and you will be able to breakfast here at half-past
+ten as we do."
+
+He looked at her, scarcely believing the testimony of his own ears. She
+saw his doubt, and continued quietly enough, though still with that
+lurking smile in her sweet eyes. "You must not find fault with them if
+they are badly grounded; or rather you must find fault with me, for I
+have taught them nearly everything they know. They are good boys, if
+they are a little unruly now and then. Here is my uncle coming from the
+house. You had really better wait and see him, will you not, Mr.
+Stretton? I will leave you to talk business together."
+
+She rose and moved away. Stretton stood like a statue, passionately
+desiring to speak, yet scarcely knowing what to say. It was only when
+she gave him a slight, parting smile over her shoulder that he found his
+voice.
+
+"I can't thank you," he said, hoarsely. She paused for a moment, and he
+spoke again, with long gaps between the sentences. "You don't know what
+you have done for me.... I have something to live for now.... God bless
+you."
+
+He turned abruptly towards the sea, and Elizabeth, after hesitating for
+a moment, went silently to meet her uncle. She was more touched than she
+liked to acknowledge to herself by the young man's emotion; and she felt
+all the pleasurable glow that usually accompanies the doing of a good
+deed.
+
+"Perhaps we have saved him from great misery--poverty and starvation,"
+she mused to herself. "I am sure that he is good; he has such a fine
+face, and he speaks so frankly about his troubles. Of course, as my
+uncle says, he may be an adventurer; but I do not think he is. We shall
+soon be able to judge of his character."
+
+"Well, Betty," said Mr. Heron, as he came up to her, "what success? Have
+you dismissed the young man in disgrace, or are we to let him try to
+instruct these noisy lads every morning?"
+
+"I think you had better try him, uncle."
+
+"My dear Elizabeth, it is not for me to decide the question. You know
+very well that I could not do what you insist upon doing for us all----"
+
+"Don't tell Mr. Stretton that, please, uncle."
+
+Mr. Heron stopped short, and looked at her almost piteously.
+
+"Dear child, how can I go on pretending to be the master of this house,
+and hiring tutors for my children, when the expense comes out of your
+purse and not out of mine?"
+
+"My purse is wide enough," said Elizabeth, laughing. "Dear uncle, I
+should hate this money if I might not use it in the way I please. What
+good would it be to me if you could not all share it? Besides, I do not
+want to be gossiped about and stared at, as is the lot of most young
+women who happen to be heiresses. I am your orphan niece--that is all
+that the outside world need know. What does it matter which of us really
+owns the money?"
+
+"There are very few people of your opinion, my dear," said her uncle.
+"But you are a good, kind, generous girl, and we are more grateful to
+you than we can say. And now, shall I talk to this young man? Have you
+asked him any questions?"
+
+"Yes. I do not think that we need reject him because he has no
+references, uncle."
+
+"Very well, Elizabeth. I quite agree with you. But, on the whole, we
+won't mention the fact of his having no references to the rest of the
+family."
+
+"Just what I was about to say, Uncle Alfred."
+
+Thereupon she betook herself to the house, and Mr. Heron proceeded to
+the bench on the cliff, where he held a long and apparently satisfactory
+colloquy with his visitor. And at the end of the conversation it was
+decided that Mr. John Stretton, as he called himself, should give three
+or four hours daily of his valuable time to the instruction of the more
+youthful members of the Heron family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.
+
+
+"Hey for the South, the sunny South!" said Percival Heron, striding into
+his friend Vivian's room with a lighted cigar between his teeth and a
+letter in his hand. "I'm off to Italy to-morrow."
+
+"I wish to Heaven that I were off, too!" returned Rupert, leaning back
+in a lounging-chair with a look of lazy discontent. "The fogs last all
+the year round in London. This is May; I don't know why I am in town at
+all."
+
+"Nor I," said his friend, briskly. "Especially when you have the cash to
+take you out of town as often as you like, and whenever you like, while
+I have to wait on the tender mercies of publishers and editors before I
+can put fifty pounds in my pocket and go for a holiday."
+
+"You're in luck just now, then, I am to understand?"
+
+"Very much so. Look at that, my boy." And he flourished a piece of thin
+paper in Vivian's face. "A cheque for a hundred. I am going to squander
+it on railway lines as soon as possible."
+
+"You are going to join your family?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to join my family. What a sweetly domestic sound! I
+don't care a rap for my family. I am going to see the woman I love best
+in the world, and, if she were not in Italy, I doubt whether wild horses
+would ever draw me from this vast, tumultuous, smoky, beloved city of
+mine--Alma Mater, indeed, to me, and to scores of men who are your
+brothers and mine----"
+
+"Now, look here, Percival," said Rupert, in a slightly wearied tone, "if
+you are going to rant and rave, I'll go out. My room is quite at your
+disposal, but I am not. I've got a headache. Why don't you go to a
+theatre or a music hall, and work off your superfluous energy there by
+clapping and shouting applause?"
+
+Percival laughed, but seated himself and spoke in a gentler tone.
+
+"I'll remember your susceptibilities, my friend. Let me stay and smoke,
+that's all. Throw a book at my head if I grow too noisy. Or hand me that
+'Review' at your elbow. I'll read it and hold my tongue."
+
+He was as good as his word. He read so long and so quietly that Vivian
+turned his head at last and addressed him of his own accord.
+
+"What makes your people stay so long abroad?" he said. "Are they going
+to stop there all the summer? I never heard that a summer in Italy was a
+desirable thing."
+
+"It's Elizabeth's doing," answered Percival, coolly. "She and my father
+between them got up an Italian craze; and off they went as soon as ever
+she came into that property, dragging the family behind them, all laden
+with books on Italian art, and quoting Augustus Hare, Symonds, and
+Ruskin indiscriminately. I don't suppose Kitty will have a brain left to
+stand on when she comes back again--if ever she does come back."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Rupert, with a sudden deep change of voice.
+
+"I mean--nothing. I mean, if she does not marry an Italian count or an
+English adventurer, or catch malaria and die in a swamp."
+
+"Good Heavens, Percival! how can you talk so coolly? One would think
+that it was a joke!"
+
+Vivian had risen from his chair, and was standing erect, with a decided
+frown upon his brow. Percival glanced at him, and answered lightly.
+
+"Don't make such a pother about nothing. She's all right. They're in a
+very healthy place; a little seaside village, where it has been quite
+cool, they say, so far. And they will return before long, because they
+mean to spend the autumn in Scotland. Yes, they say it is 'quite cool'
+at present. Don't see how it can be cool myself; but that's their look
+out. They've all been very well, and there's no immediate prospect of
+the marriage of either of the girls with an Italian or an English
+adventurer; not even of Miss Murray with your humble servant."
+
+Rupert threw himself back into his chair again as if relieved, and a
+half-smile crossed his countenance.
+
+"How is Miss Murray?" he asked, rather maliciously.
+
+"Very well, as far as I know," said Percival, turning over a page and
+smoothing out the "Review" upon his knee. He read on for two or three
+minutes more, then suddenly tossed the book from him, gave it a
+contemptuous kick, and discovered that his cigar had gone out. He got
+up, walked to the mantelpiece, found a match, and lighted it, and then
+said, deliberately--
+
+"They've done a devilish imprudent thing out there."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Hired a fellow as tutor to the boys without references or
+recommendations, solely because he was good-looking, as far as I can
+make out."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"My father."
+
+"Did he do it?"
+
+"He and Elizabeth between them. Kitty sings his praises in every letter.
+He teaches the girls Italian."
+
+Rupert said nothing.
+
+"So I am going to Italy chiefly to see what the fellow is like. I can't
+make out whether he is young or old. Kitty calls him divinely handsome;
+and my father speaks of his grey hairs."
+
+"And Miss Murray?"
+
+"Miss Murray," said Percival, rather slowly, "doesn't speak of him at
+all." Then, he added, in quicker tones--"Doubtless he isn't worth her
+notice. Elizabeth can be a very grand lady when she likes. Upon my word,
+Vivian, there are times when I wonder that she ever deigned to bestow a
+word or look even upon me!"
+
+"You are modest," said Rupert, drily.
+
+"Modesty's my foible; it always was. So, Hey for the sunny South, as I
+said before.
+
+    'O, swallow, swallow, flying, flying South,
+    Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
+    And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.'
+
+Any message for the swallow, sir?" touching an imaginary cap. "Shall I
+say that 'Dark and true and tender is the North,' and 'Fierce and false
+and fickle is the South,' or any similar statement?"
+
+"I have no message," said Rupert.
+
+"So be it. Do you know anything of young Luttrell--Hugo
+Luttrell--by-the-bye?"
+
+"Very little. My sister is interested in him."
+
+"He is going to the bad at an uncommonly swift pace--that is all."
+
+"Old Mrs. Luttrell talks of making him her heir," said Vivian. "She
+asked him down last winter but he wouldn't go."
+
+"I don't wonder at it. She must be a very tough old lady if she thinks
+that he could shoot there with much pleasure after his cousin's
+accident."
+
+"I don't suppose that Mrs. Luttrell asked him with any such notion,"
+returned Rupert. "She merely wanted him to spend a few days with her at
+Netherglen."
+
+"Has she much to leave? I thought the estates were entailed," said
+Percival.
+
+"She has a rather large private fortune. I expected to find that you
+knew all about it," said Rupert, with a smile.
+
+"It's the last thing that I should concern myself about," said Percival,
+superbly. And Vivian was almost sorry that he had made the remark, for
+it overset all the remains of his friend's good temper, and brought into
+ugly prominence the upright, black mark upon his forehead caused by his
+too frequent frown.
+
+Matters were not mended when Rupert asked, by way of changing the
+conversation, whether Percival's marriage were to take place on Miss
+Murray's return to England.
+
+"Marriage? No! What are you thinking of?" said he, starting up
+impatiently. "Don't you know that our engagement--such, as it is--is a
+profound secret from the world in general? You are nearly the only
+person who knows anything about it outside our own family; and even
+there it isn't talked about. Marriage! I only wish there was a chance of
+it. But she is in no hurry to give up her liberty; and I can't press
+her."
+
+And then he took his departure, with an injured feeling that Rupert had
+not been very sympathetic.
+
+"I've a good mind to offer to go with him," said Mr. Vivian to himself
+when his friend was gone. "I should like to see them all again; I should
+like to enjoy the Italian sunshine and the fresh, sweet air with Kitty,
+and hear her innocent little comments on the remains of mediæval art
+that her father is sure to be raving about. But it is better not. I
+might forget myself some day. I might say what could not be unsaid. And
+then, poor, little Kitty, it would be hard both for you and for me. No,
+I won't go. Stay in Italy and get married, Kitty: that is the best thing
+for us both. You will have forgotten your old friend by the time you
+come back to London; and I shall drag on at the old round, with the same
+weary, clanking chain at my heels which nobody suspects. Good God!"
+cried Rupert, with a sudden burst of passion which would have startled
+the friends who had seen in him nothing but the perfectly
+self-possessed, cold-natured, well-mannered man of the world, "what a
+fool a man can make of himself in his youth, and repent it all his life
+afterwards in sackcloth and ashes--yet repent it in vain--in vain!"
+
+Percival Heron did not choose to announce his coming to his friends. He
+travelled furiously, as it was his fashion to travel when he went
+abroad, and arrived at the little village, on the outskirts of which
+stood the Villa Venturi, so late in the evening that he preferred to
+take a bed at the inn, and sup there, rather than disturb his own people
+until morning. He enjoyed the night at the inn. It was a place much
+frequented by fishermen, who came to fill their bottles before going out
+at night, or to talk over the events of the previous day's fishing.
+There was a garden behind the house--a garden full of orange and I lemon
+trees--from which sweet breaths of fragrance were wafted to the nostrils
+of the guests as they sat within the little hostelry. Percival could
+speak Italian well, and understood the _patois_ of the fishermen. He had
+a wonderful gift for languages; and it pleased him to sit up half the
+night, drinking the rough wine of the country, smoking innumerable
+cigarettes, and laughing heartily at the stories of the fisher-folk,
+until the simple-minded Italians were filled with admiration and
+astonishment at this _Inglese_ who was so much more like one of
+themselves than any of the _Inglesi_ that they had ever met.
+
+Owing to these late hours and the amount of talking, perhaps, that he
+had got through, Percival slept late next morning, and it was not until
+eleven o'clock that he started, regardless of the heat, for the Villa
+Venturi. He had not very far to go, and it was with a light heart that
+he strode along holding a great, white umbrella above his head, glancing
+keenly at the view of sea and land which made the glory of the place,
+turning up his nose fastidiously at the smells of the village, and
+wondering in his heart what induced his relations to stay so long out of
+London. He rang the bell at the gateway with great decision, and told
+the servant to inform Mr. Heron that "an English gentleman" wished to
+speak to him. He was ushered into a little ante-room, requested to wait
+there until Mr. Heron was found, and left alone.
+
+But he was not content to wait very patiently. He was sure that he heard
+voices in the next room. Being quite without the scruples which had made
+Stretton, not long before, refuse to push open a door one single inch in
+order to see what was not meant to meet his eyes, he calmly advanced to
+an archway screened by long and heavy curtains, parted them with his
+fingers, and looked in.
+
+It was an innocent scene, and a pretty scene enough, on which his eyes
+rested, and yet it was one that gave Percival little pleasure. The room
+was not very light, and such sunshine as entered it fell through the
+coloured panes of a stained-glass window high in the wall. At an old oak
+table, black and polished with age, sat two persons--a master and a
+pupil. They had one book between them, and the pupil was reading from
+it. Papers, dictionaries, and copybooks strewed the table; it was
+evident that other pupils had been there before, but that they had
+abandoned the scene. Percival set his teeth, and the brightness went out
+of his eyes. If only the pupil had not been Elizabeth!
+
+It was not that she showed any other feeling than that of interest in
+the book that she was reading. Her eyes were fixed upon the printed
+page; her lips opened only to pronounce slowly and carefully the
+unfamiliar syllables before her. The tutor was quiet, grave, reserved;
+but Percival noticed, quickly and jealously, that he once or twice
+raised his eyes as if to observe the expression of Elizabeth's fair
+face; and, free from all offence as that glance certainly was, it made a
+wild and unreasoning fury rise up in the lover's heart. He looked, he
+heard an interchange of quiet question and answer, he saw a smile on her
+face, a curiously wistful look on his; then came a scraping sound, as
+the chairs were pushed back over the marble floor, and master and pupil
+rose. The lesson was over. Percival dropped the curtain.
+
+He was so pale when Elizabeth came to him in the little ante-room that
+she was startled.
+
+"Are you not well, Percival?" she asked, as she laid her hand in his.
+She did not allow him to kiss her; she did not allow him to announce her
+engagement; and, as he stood looking down into her eyes, he felt that
+the present state of things was very unsatisfactory.
+
+"I shall be better if you administer the cure," he said. "Give me a
+kiss, Elizabeth; just one. Remember that I have not seen you for nearly
+eight months."
+
+"I thought we made a compact," she began, trying to withdraw her hand
+from his; but he interrupted her.
+
+"That I should not kiss you--often; not that I should never kiss you at
+all, Elizabeth. And as I have come all the way from England, and have
+not seen you for so long, you might as well show me whether you are glad
+or not."
+
+"I am very glad to see you," said Elizabeth, quietly.
+
+"Are you? Then kiss me, my darling,--only once!"
+
+He put one arm round her. His face was very near her own, and his breath
+came thick and fast, but he waited for her permission still. In his own
+heart he made this kiss the crucial test of her faithfulness to him. But
+Elizabeth drew herself away. It seemed as though she found his eagerness
+distasteful.
+
+"Then you don't care for me? You find that you don't love me!" said
+Percival, almost too sharply for a lover. "I may go back to England as
+soon as I like? I came only to see you. Tell me that my journey has been
+a useless one, and I'll go."
+
+She smiled as she looked at him. "You have not forgotten how to be
+tyrannical," she said. "I hardly knew you when I first came in, because
+you looked so quiet and gentle. Don't be foolish, Percival."
+
+"Oh, of course, it is folly for a man to love you," groaned Percival,
+releasing her hands and taking a step or two away from her. "You have
+mercy on every kind of folly but that. Well, I'll go back."
+
+"No, you will not," said Elizabeth, calmly. "You will stay here and
+enjoy yourself, and go for a sail in the boat with us this evening, and
+eat oranges fresh from the trees, and play with the children. We are all
+going to take holiday whilst you are here, and you must not disappoint
+us."
+
+"Then you must kiss me once, Elizabeth." But Percival's face was
+melting, and his voice had a half-laughing tone. "I must be bribed to do
+nothing."
+
+"Very well, you shall be bribed," she answered, but with a rather
+heightened colour upon her cheek. And then she lifted up her face; but,
+as Percival perceived with a vague feeling of irritation, she merely
+suffered him to kiss her, and did not kiss him in return.
+
+His next proceeding was to put his father through a searching catechism
+upon the antecedents and abilities of the tutor, Mr. John Stretton, who
+was by this time almost domiciled at the Villa Venturi. Mr. Heron's
+replies to his son's questions were so confused, and finished so
+invariably by a reference to Elizabeth, that Percival at last determined
+to see what he could extract from her. He waited for a day or two before
+opening the subject. He waited and watched. He certainly discovered
+nothing to justify the almost insane dislike and jealousy which he
+entertained with respect to Mr. Stretton; when he reasoned with himself
+he knew that he was prejudiced and unreasonable; but then he had a habit
+of considering that his prejudices should be attended to. He examined
+the children, hoping to find that the new tutor's scholarship might give
+him a loophole for criticism; but he could find nothing to blame. In
+fact, he was driven reluctantly to admit that the tutor's knowledge was
+far wider and deeper than his own, although Percival was really no mean
+classical scholar, and valued himself upon a thorough acquaintance with
+modern literature of every kind. He was foiled there, and was therefore
+driven back upon the subject of the tutor's antecedents.
+
+"Who is this man Stretton, Elizabeth?" he asked one day. "My father says
+you know all about him."
+
+"I?" said Elizabeth, opening her eyes. "I know nothing more than Uncle
+Alfred does."
+
+"Indeed. Then you engaged him with remarkably little prudence, as it
+appears to me."
+
+"Prudence is not quite the highest virtue in the world."
+
+"Now, my dear Queen Bess, as Jack calls you, don't be didactic. Where
+did you pick up this starveling tutor? Was he fainting by the roadside?"
+
+"Mr. Stretton teaches very well, and is much liked by the boys,
+Percival. You heard Aunt Isabel tell the story of his first meeting with
+Uncle Alfred."
+
+"Ah, yes; the rescue of the umbrella. Well, what else? Of course, he got
+somebody to introduce him in proper form after that?"
+
+"No," said Elizabeth.
+
+"No! Then you had friends in common? You knew his family?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how, in Heaven's name, Elizabeth, did he make good his footing
+here?"
+
+There was a silence. The two were sitting upon the low bench on the
+cliff. It was evening, and the sun was sinking to rest over the golden
+waters; the air was silent and serene, Percival had been smoking, but he
+flung his cigar away, and looked full into Elizabeth's face as he asked
+the question.
+
+She spoke at last, tranquilly as ever.
+
+"He was poor, Percival, and we wanted to help him. You and I are not
+likely to think the worse of a man for being poor, are we? He had been
+ill; he seemed to be in trouble, and we were sorry for him; and I do not
+think that my uncle made a mistake in taking him."
+
+"And I," said Percival, with an edge in his voice, "think that he made a
+very great mistake."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?" he repeated, with a short, savage laugh. "I shall not tell you
+why."
+
+"Do you know anything against Mr. Stretton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What, Percival?" Her tone was indignant; the colour was flaming in her
+cheeks.
+
+"I know that Stretton is not his name. My father told me so." There was
+a pause, and then Percival went on, in a low voice, but with a gathering
+intensity which made it more impressive than his louder tones. "I'll
+tell you what I should do if I were my father. I should say to this
+fellow--'Now, you may be in trouble through no fault of your own, but
+that is no matter to me. If you cannot bear your own name, you have no
+business to live in an honest man's house under false pretences; you
+may, therefore, either tell me your whole story, and let me judge
+whether it is a disgraceful one or not, or you may go--the quicker the
+better.' That's what I should say to Mr. Stretton; and the sooner it is
+said to him the more I shall be pleased."
+
+"Fortunately," said Elizabeth, "the decision does not rest in your
+hands." She rose, and drew herself to her full height; her cheeks were
+crimson, her eyes gleamed with indignation. "Mr. Stretton is a
+gentleman; as long as he is in my employment--mine, if you please; not
+yours, nor your father's, after all--he shall be treated as one. You
+could not have shown yourself more ungenerous, more poor-spirited,
+Percival, than by what you have said to-day."
+
+And then she walked with a firm, resolute step and head erect, towards
+the house. Percival did not attempt to follow her. He watched her until
+she was out of sight, then he re-seated himself, and sank into deep
+meditation. It was night before he roused himself, and struck a blow
+with his hand upon the arm of the seat, which sent the rotten woodwork
+flying, as he gave utterance to his conclusion.
+
+"I was right after all. My father will live to own it some day. He has
+made a devil of a mistake."
+
+Then he rose and took the path to the house. Before he entered it,
+however, he looked vengefully in the direction in which the twinkling
+lights of the little village inn could be seen.
+
+"If you have a secret," he said, slowly and resolutely, from between his
+clenched teeth, "I'll find it out. If you have a disgraceful story in
+your life, I'll unmask it. If you have another name you want to hide,
+I'll publish it to the world. So help me, God! Because you have come, or
+you are coming, between me and the woman that I love. And if I ever get
+a chance to do you a bad turn, Mr. John Stretton, I'll do it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.
+
+
+"Shall I go, or shall I not go?" meditated Hugo Luttrell.
+
+He was lying on a broad, comfortable-looking lounge in one of the
+luxurious rooms which he usually occupied when he stayed for any length
+of time in London. He had been smoking a dainty, perfumed cigarette--he
+very seldom smoked anything except cigarettes--but he held it absently
+between his fingers, and finally let it drop, while he read and re-read
+a letter which his servant had just brought to him.
+
+Nearly two years had passed since Richard Luttrell's death; years which
+had left their mark upon Hugo in many ways. The lines of his delicately
+beautiful, dark face had grown harder and sharper; and, perhaps on this
+account, he had a distinctly older look than was warranted by his
+two-and-twenty years. There were worn lines about his eyes, and a
+decided increase of that subtlety of expression which gave something of
+an Oriental character to his appearance. He had lost the youthful,
+almost boyish, look which had characterised him two years ago; he was a
+man now, but hardly a man whom one would have found it easy to trust.
+
+The letter was from Angela Vivian. She had written, at Mrs. Luttrell's
+request, to ask Hugo to pay them a visit. Mrs. Luttrell still occupied
+the house at Netherglen, and she seemed anxious for an interview with
+her nephew. Hugo had not seen her for many months; he had left Scotland
+almost immediately after Brian's departure, with the full intention of
+setting foot in it no more. But he had then considered himself tolerably
+prosperous. Brian's death had thrown a shade over his prospects. He
+could no longer count upon a successful application to Mr. Colquhoun if
+he were in difficulties, and Brian's six thousand pounds melted before
+his requirements like snow before an April sun. He had already
+squandered the greater part of it; he was deeply in debt; and he had no
+relation upon whom he could rely for assistance--unless it were Mrs.
+Luttrell, and Hugo had a definite dislike to the thought of asking Mrs.
+Luttrell for money.
+
+It was no more than a dislike, however. It was an unpleasant thing to
+do, perhaps, but not a thing that he would refrain from doing, if
+necessary. Why should not Mrs. Luttrell be generous to her nephew?
+Possibly she wished to make him her heir; possibly she would offer to
+pay his debts; at any rate, he could not afford to decline her help. So
+he must start for Netherglen next day.
+
+"Netherglen! They are still there," he said to himself, as he stared
+moodily at the sheet of black-edged note-paper, on which the name of the
+house was stamped in small, black letters. "I wonder that they did not
+leave the place. I should have done so if I had been Aunt Margaret. I
+would give a great deal to get out of going to it myself!"
+
+A sombre look stole over his face; his hand clenched itself over the
+paper that he held; in spite of the luxurious warmth of the room, he
+gave a little shiver. Then he rose and bestirred himself; his nature was
+not one that impelled him to dwell for very long upon any painful or
+disturbing thought.
+
+He gave his orders about the journey for the following day, then dressed
+and went out, remembering that he had two or three engagements for the
+evening. The season was nearly over, and many people had left London,
+but there seemed little diminution in the number of guests who were
+struggling up and down the wide staircase of a house at which Hugo
+presented himself about twelve o'clock that night, and he missed very
+few familiar faces amongst the crowd as he nodded greetings to his
+numerous acquaintances.
+
+"Ah, Luttrell," said a voice at his ear, "I was wondering if I should
+see you. I thought you might be off to Scotland already."
+
+"Who told you I was going to Scotland?" said Hugo.
+
+The dark shadow had crossed his face again; if there was a man in
+England whom at that time he cordially disliked, it was this
+man--Angela's brother--Rupert Vivian. He did not know why, but he always
+had a presage of disaster when he saw that high-bred, impassive face
+beside him, or heard the modulation of Vivian's quiet, musical voice.
+Hugo was superstitious, and he firmly believed that Rupert Vivian's
+presence brought him ill luck.
+
+"Angela wrote to me that Mrs. Luttrell was inviting you to Netherglen. I
+was going there myself, but I have been prevented. A relation of mine in
+Wales is dying, and has sent for me, so I may not be able to get to
+Scotland for some weeks."
+
+"Sorry not to see you. I shall be gone by the time you reach Scotland,
+then," responded Hugo, amiably.
+
+"Yes." Rupert looked down with a reflective air. "Come here, will you?"
+he said, drawing Hugo aside into a small curtained recess, with a seat
+just wide enough for two, which happened at that moment to be empty. "I
+have something to ask you; there is something that you can do for me if
+you will."
+
+"Happy to do anything in my power," murmured Hugo. He did not like to be
+asked to help other people, but there was a want of assurance in
+Vivian's usually self-contained demeanour which roused his curiosity.
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well, to begin with, you know the Herons and Miss Murray, do you not?"
+
+"I know them by name. I have met Percival Heron sometimes."
+
+"Do you know that they have returned rather unexpectedly from Italy and
+gone to Strathleckie, the house on the other side of the property--about
+six miles from Netherglen?"
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"I suppose that Miss Murray thinks she may as well take possession of
+her estate," replied Rupert, rather shortly. "May I ask whether you are
+going to call?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall certainly call."
+
+"Then, look here, Luttrell, I want you to do something for me," said
+Vivian, falling into a more friendly and confidential strain than he
+usually employed with Hugo. "Will you mention--in an incidental sort of
+way--to Mrs. Heron the reason why I have not come to Scotland--the claim
+that my relation in Wales has on me, and all that sort of thing? It is
+hardly worth while writing about it, perhaps; still, if it came in your
+way, you might do me a service."
+
+Hugo was so much relieved to find nothing more difficult required of him
+that he gave vent to a light laugh.
+
+"Why don't you write?" he said.
+
+"There's nothing to write about. I do not correspond with them," said
+Rupert, actually colouring a little beneath Hugo's long, satirical gaze.
+"But I fancy they may think me neglectful. I promised some time ago that
+I would run down; and I don't see how I can--until November, at the
+earliest. And, if you are there, you may as well mention the reason for
+my going to Wales, or, you see, it will look like a positive slight."
+
+"I'm to say all this to Mrs. Heron, am I? And to no one beside?"
+
+"That will be quite sufficient." There was a slight touch of hauteur in
+Vivian's tone. "And, if I may trouble you with something else----"
+
+"No trouble at all. Another message?"
+
+"Not exactly. If you would take care of this little packet for me I
+should be glad. I am afraid of its being crushed or lost in the post. It
+is for Miss Heron."
+
+He produced a little parcel, carefully sealed and addressed. It looked
+like a small, square box. Hugo smiled as he took it in his hand.
+
+"Perishable?" he asked, carelessly.
+
+"Not exactly. The contents are fully a hundred years old already. It is
+something for Miss Heron's birthday. She is a great favourite of mine--a
+nice little girl."
+
+"Quite a child, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh, of course. One won't be able to send her presents by-and-bye," said
+Rupert, with rather an uneasy laugh. "What a pity it is that some
+children ever grow up! Well, thanks, Hugo; I shall be very much obliged
+to you. Are you going now?"
+
+"Must be moving on, I suppose. I saw old Colquhoun the other day and he
+began telling me about Miss Murray, and all the wonders she was doing
+for the Herons. Makes believe that the money is theirs, not her own,
+doesn't she?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Odd idea. She must be a curiosity. They brought a tutor with them from
+Italy, I believe; some fellow they picked up in the streets."
+
+"He has turned out a very satisfactory one," Rupert answered, coldly.
+"They say that he makes a capital tutor for the little boys. I think he
+is a favourite with all of them; he teaches Miss Heron Italian."
+
+His voice had taken a curiously formal tone. It sounded as though he was
+displeased at something which had occurred to him.
+
+Hugo thought of that tone and of the conversation many times before he
+left London next evening. He was rather an adept at the discovery of
+small mysteries; he liked to draw conclusions from a series of small
+events, and to ferret out other people's secrets. He thought that he was
+now upon the track of some design of Vivian's, and he became exceedingly
+curious about it. If it had been possible to open the box without
+disturbing the seals upon it, he would certainly have done so; but, this
+being out of the question, he contented himself with resolving to be
+present when it was opened, and to observe with care the effect produced
+by Vivian's message on the faces of Mrs. Heron, Miss Heron, and Miss
+Murray.
+
+He reached Dunmuir (where the nearest station to his aunt's house was
+situated) at eleven o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Luttrell had sent the
+mail-phaeton for him. As Hugo took the reins and glanced at the shining
+harness and the lustrous coats of the beautiful bays, he could not help
+remembering the day when the mail-phaeton had last been sent to bring
+him from the station. Richard had then sat in the place that he now
+occupied, with Angela beside him; and Brian and Hugo laughed and talked
+in the back seat, and were as merry as they well could be. Nearly two
+years ago! What changes had been seen since then.
+
+The bays were fidgetty and would not start at once. Hugo was just
+shouting a hasty direction to the groom at their heads when he happened
+to glance aside towards the station door where two or three persons were
+standing. The groom had cause to wonder what was the matter. Hugo gave
+the reins a tremendous jerk, which brought the horses nearly upon their
+haunches, and then let them go at such a pace that it seemed as if he
+had entirely lost control over them. But he was a very good whip, and
+soon mastered the fiery creatures, reducing their mad speed by degrees
+to a gentle trot, which enabled the groom to overtake them, panting and
+red in the face, indeed, as he swung himself up behind. The groom was
+inclined to think that Mr. Hugo had lost his nerve for a few moments;
+for "his face turned as white," honest John remarked afterwards, "as if
+he had seen a ghost."
+
+"John," said Hugo, after driving for a good two miles in silence, "who
+was that gentleman at the station door?"
+
+"Gentleman, sir?"
+
+"A young man--at least, he seemed young--in a great-coat."
+
+"Oh!--I don't think that's a young gentleman, exactly; least-ways he's
+got grey hair. That's the gentleman that teaches at Mr. Heron's, sir;
+Mr. Heron, the uncle to Miss Murray that has the property now. His
+name's Mr. Stretton, sir. I asked Mr. Heron's coachman."
+
+"What made you ask?"
+
+The groom hesitated and shuffled; but, upon being kept sharply to the
+point, avowed that it was because the gentleman "seen from behind"
+looked so much like Mr. Brian Luttrell. "Of course, his face is quite
+different from Mr. Brian's, sir," he said, hastily, noting a shadow upon
+Hugo's brow; "and he has grey hair and a beard, and all that; but his
+walk was a little like poor Mr. Brian's, sir, I thought."
+
+Hugo was silent. He had not noticed the man's gait, but, in spite of the
+grey hair, the tanned complexion, the brown beard--which had lately been
+allowed to cover the lower part of Mr. Stretton's face, and had changed
+it very greatly--in spite of all these things he had noticed, and been
+startled by, the expression of a pair of grave, brown eyes--graver and
+sadder than Brian's eyes used to be, but full of the tenderness and the
+sweetness that Hugo had never seen in the face of any other man. Full,
+also, of recognition; there was the rub. A man who knows you cannot look
+at you in the same way as one who knows you not, and it was this look of
+knowledge which had unnerved Hugo, and make him doubt the evidence of
+his own senses.
+
+He was still silent and absorbed when he arrived at Netherglen, and felt
+glad to hear that he was not to see his aunt until later in the day.
+Angela came to meet him at the door; she was pale, and her black dress
+made her look very slender and fragile, but she had the old, sweet smile
+and pleasant words of welcome for him, and could not understand why his
+face was so gloomy, and his eyes so obstinately averted from her own.
+
+It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Hugo was admitted to Mrs.
+Luttrell's sitting-room. He had scarcely seen her since the death of her
+eldest son, and was manifestly startled and shocked to see her looking
+so much more aged and worn than she had been two years ago. She greeted
+him much after her usual fashion, however; she allowed him to touch her
+smooth, cold cheek with his lips, and take her stiff hand into his own,
+but she showed no trace of any softening emotion.
+
+"Sit down, Hugo," she said. "I am sorry to have brought you away from
+your friends."
+
+"Oh, I was glad to come," said Hugo, confusedly. "I was not with
+friends; I was in town. It was late for town, but I--I had business."
+
+"This house is no longer a cheerful one," continued Mrs. Luttrell, in a
+cold, monotonous voice. "There are no attractions for young men now. It
+has been a house of mourning. I could not expect you to visit me."
+
+"Indeed, Aunt Margaret, I would have come if I had known that you wanted
+me," said Hugo, wondering whether his tardiness would entail the loss of
+Mrs. Luttrell's money.
+
+He recovered his self-possession and his fluency at this thought; if
+danger were near, it behoved him to be on the alert.
+
+"I have wanted you," said Mrs. Luttrell. "But I could wait. I knew that
+you would come in time. Now, listen to what I have to say."
+
+Hugo held his breath. What could she say that needed all this preamble?
+
+"Hugo Luttrell," his aunt began, very deliberately, "you are a poor man
+and an extravagant one."
+
+Hugo smiled, and bowed his head.
+
+"But you are only extravagant. You are not vicious. You have never done
+a dishonourable thing--one for which you need blush or fear to meet the
+eye of an honest man? Answer me that, Hugo. I may know what you will
+say, but I want to hear it from your own lips."
+
+Hugo did not flinch. His face assumed the boyish innocence of expression
+which had often stood him in good stead. His great, dark eyes looked
+boldly into hers.
+
+"That is all true, Aunt Margaret. I may have done foolish things, but
+nothing worse. I have been extravagant, as you say, but I have not been
+dishonourable."
+
+He could not have dared to say so much if Richard or Brian had been
+alive to contradict him; but they were safely out of the way and he
+could say what he chose.
+
+"Then I can trust you, Hugo."
+
+"I will try to be worthy of your trust, Aunt Margaret."
+
+He bent down to kiss her hand in his graceful, foreign fashion; but she
+drew it somewhat hastily away.
+
+"No. None of your Sicilian ways for me, Hugo. That foreign drop in your
+blood is just what I hate. But you're the only Luttrell left; and I hope
+I know my duty. I want to have a talk with you about the house, and the
+property, and so on."
+
+"I shall be glad if I can do anything to help you," said Hugo, smoothly.
+His cheek was beginning to flush; he wished that his aunt would come to
+the point. Suspense was very trying! But Mrs. Luttrell seemed to be in
+no hurry.
+
+"You know, perhaps," she said, "that I am a tolerably rich woman still.
+The land, the farms, and the moors, and all that part of the property
+passed to Miss Murray upon my sons' deaths; but this house and the
+grounds (though not the loch nor the woods) are still mine, and I have a
+fair income with which to keep them up. I should like to know that one
+of my husband's name was to come after me. I should like to know that
+there would be Luttrells of Netherglen for many years to come."
+
+She paused a few minutes, but Hugo made no reply.
+
+"I have a proposition to make to you," she went on presently. "I don't
+make it without conditions. You shall hear what they are by-and-bye. I
+should like to make you my heir. I can leave my money and my house to
+anyone I choose. I have about fifteen-hundred a-year, and then there's
+the house and the garden. Should you think it worth having?"
+
+"I think," said Hugo, with a wily avoidance of any direct answer, "that
+it is very painful to hear you talk of leaving your property to anyone."
+
+"That is mere sentimental nonsense," replied his aunt, with a
+perceptible increase in the coldness of her manner. "The question is,
+will you agree to the conditions on which I leave my money to you?"
+
+"I will do anything in my power," murmured Hugo.
+
+"I want you, then, to arrange to spend at least half the year with me
+here. You can leave the army; I do not think that it is a profession
+that suits you. Live here, and fill the place of a son to me. I have no
+sons left. Be as like one of them as it is in your power to be."
+
+In spite of himself Hugo's face fell. Leave the army, leave England,
+bury himself for half the year with an old woman in a secluded spot,
+which, although beautiful in summer and autumn, was unspeakably dreary
+in winter? She had not required so much of Richard or Brian; why should
+she ask for such a sacrifice from him?
+
+Mrs. Luttrell watched his face, and read pretty clearly the meaning of
+the various expressions which chased each other across it.
+
+"It seems a hard thing to you at first, no doubt," she said, composedly.
+"But you would find interests and amusements in course of time. You
+would have six months of the year in which to go abroad, or to divert
+yourself in London. You should have a sufficient income. And my other
+condition is that you marry as soon as you can find a suitable wife."
+
+"Marry?" said Hugo, in dismay. "I never thought of marriage!" |
+
+"You will think of it some time, I presume. An early marriage is good
+for young men. I should like to see you married, and have your children
+growing up about me."
+
+"Perhaps you have thought of a suitable lady?" said Hugo, with a
+half-sneer. The prospect that had seemed so desirable at first was now
+very much lowered in his estimation, and he did not disguise the sullen
+anger that he felt. But he hardly expected Mrs. Luttrell's answer.
+
+"Yes, I have."
+
+"Indeed! Who is it?"
+
+"Miss Murray. Elizabeth Murray, to whom your cousins' estates have
+gone."
+
+"What sort of a person is she?"
+
+"Young, beautiful, rich. A little older than yourself, but not much. You
+would make a fine couple, Hugo. She came to see me the other day, and
+you would have thought she was a princess."
+
+"I should like to see her," said Hugo, thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, you must just go and call. And then you can think the matter over
+and let me know. I'm in no hurry for a decision."
+
+"You are very good, Aunt Margaret."
+
+"No. I am only endeavouring to be just. I should like to see you
+prosperous and happy. And, while you are here, you will oblige me by
+considering yourself the master of the house, Hugo. Give your own
+orders, and invite your own friends."
+
+Hugo murmured some slight objection.
+
+"It will not affect my comfort in the least. I kept some of the horses,
+and one or two vehicles that I thought you would like. Use them all. You
+will not expect to see very much of me; I seldom come downstairs, so the
+house will be free for you and your friends. When you have decided what
+you mean to do, let me know."
+
+Hugo thanked her and retired. He did not see her again until the
+following evening, when she met him with a question.
+
+"Have you seen Miss Murray yet?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo, lowering his eyes.
+
+"And have you come to any decision?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I should like to know what it is," said Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+Her hands, which were crossed before her on her knee, trembled a little
+as she said the words.
+
+Hugo hesitated for a moment.
+
+"I have made my decision," he said at last, in a firm voice, "and it is
+one that I know I shall never have cause to repent. Aunt Margaret, I
+accept your kind--your generous--offer, and I will be to you as a son."
+
+He had prepared his little speech so carefully that it scarcely sounded
+artificial when it issued from those curved, beautiful lips, and was
+emphasised by the liquid softness of his Southern eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A LOST LETTER.
+
+
+Hugo's visit to the Herons was paid rather late in the afternoon, and
+he, therefore, had the full benefit of the whole family party, as each
+member of it dropped in to tea. Mrs. Heron's old habits still
+re-asserted themselves, in spite of the slight check imposed on her by
+the remembrance that the house belonged to Elizabeth, that the many new
+luxuries and comforts, including freedom from debt, had come from
+Elizabeth's purse, and that Elizabeth, although she chose to abdicate
+her power, was really the sovereign of Strathleckie. But Elizabeth
+arrogated so little to herself, and was so wonderfully content to be
+second in the house, that Mrs. Heron was apt to forget the facts of the
+case, and to act as if she were mistress as much as she had ever been in
+the untidy dwelling in Gower-street.
+
+As regarded the matter of tidiness, Elizabeth had made reforms. There
+were now many more servants than there had been in Gower-street, and the
+drawing-room could not present quite the same look of chaos as had
+formerly prevailed there. But Elizabeth knew the ways of the household
+too well to expect that Mr. Heron's paint-brushes, Mrs. Heron's novels,
+and the children's toys would not be found in every quarter of the
+house; it was as much as she could do to select rooms that were intended
+to fill the purposes of studio, boudoir, and nursery; she could not make
+her relations confine themselves and their occupations to their
+respective apartments.
+
+She had had a great struggle with her uncle before the present state of
+affairs came about. He had roused himself sufficiently to protest
+against making use of her money and not giving her, as he said, her
+proper position; but Elizabeth's determined will overcame all his
+objections. "I never wanted this money," she said to him; "I think it a
+burden. The only way in which I can enjoy it is by making life a little
+easier to other people. And you have the first claim--you and my
+cousins; because you took me in and were good to me when I was a little,
+friendless orphan of twelve years old. So, now that I have the chance,
+you must come and stay with me in my house and keep me from feeling
+lonely, and then I shall be able to think that my wealth is doing good
+to somebody beside myself. You make me feel as if I were a stranger, and
+not one of yourselves, when you object to my doing things for you. Would
+you mind taking gifts from Kitty? And am I so much less dear to you than
+Kitty? You used to tell me that I was like a daughter to you. Let me be
+your daughter still."
+
+Mr. Heron found it difficult to make protests in the face of these
+arguments; and Mrs. Heron slid gracefully into the arrangement without
+any protest at all. Kitty's objections were easily overcome; and the
+children thought it perfectly natural that their cousin should share her
+good gifts with them, in the same way that, when she was younger, she
+divided with them the toys and sweeties that kind friends bestowed upon
+her.
+
+Therefore, when Hugo called at Strathleckie, he was struck with the fact
+that it was Mrs. Heron, and not Elizabeth, who acted as his hostess. It
+needed all his knowledge of the circumstances and history of the family
+to convince himself that the house did not belong to Alfred Heron, the
+artist, and that the stately girl in a plain, black dress, who poured
+out the tea, was the real mistress of the house. She acted very much as
+though she were a dependent, or at most an elder daughter, in the same
+position as little Kitty, who assumed no airs of authority over anybody
+or anything.
+
+Hugo admired Elizabeth, as he admired beautiful women everywhere; but he
+was not interested in her. Mentally he called her fool for not adopting
+her right station and spending her money in her own way. She was too
+grave for him. He was more at his ease with Kitty.
+
+Rupert Vivian's message--if it could be called a message--was given
+lightly and carelessly enough, but Hugo had the satisfaction of seeing
+the colour flash all over Miss Heron's little _mignonne_ face as he
+listened to Mrs. Heron's languid reply.
+
+"Dear me! and is that old relative in Wales really dying? Mr. Vivian has
+always made periodical excursions into Wales ever since I knew him.
+Well, I wondered why he did not write to say that he was coming. It was
+an understood thing that he should stay with us as soon as we returned
+from Italy, and I was surprised to hear nothing from him. Were not you,
+Kitty?"
+
+"No, I was not at all surprised," said Kitty, rather sharply.
+
+"I had a commission to execute for my friend," said Hugo, turning a
+little towards her. "Mr. Vivian asked me to take charge of a parcel, and
+to place it in your own hands; he was afraid that it would be broken if
+it went by post. He told me that it was a little birthday remembrance."
+
+He laid the parcel on a table beside the girl. He noticed that her
+colour varied, but that she did not speak. Mrs. Heron's voice filled the
+pause.
+
+"How kind of you to bring it, Mr. Luttrell! Mr. Vivian always remembers
+our birthdays; especially Kitty's. Does he not, Kitty?"
+
+"Not mine especially," said Kitty, frowning. She looked at the box as if
+she did not care to open it.
+
+"Do let us see what it is," pursued Mrs. Heron. "Mr. Vivian has such
+exquisite taste! Shall we open the box, Kitty?"
+
+"If you like," returned Kitty. "Here is a pair of scissors."
+
+"Oh, we could not think of opening your box for you; open it yourself,
+dear. Make haste; we are all quite curious, are we not, Mr. Luttrell?"
+
+Mr. Luttrell smiled a little, and toyed with his tea-spoon; his eyes
+were fixed questioningly on Kitty's mutinous face, with its
+down-dropped, curling lashes and pouting rose-leaf lips. He felt more
+curiosity respecting the contents of that little box than he cared to
+show.
+
+She opened it at last, slowly and reluctantly, as it seemed to him, and
+took out of a nest of pink cotton-wool a string of filagree silver
+beads. They were very delicately worked, and there was some ground for
+Vivian's fear that they might get injured in the post, for their beauty
+was very great. Mrs. Heron went into ecstasies over the gift. It was
+accompanied merely by a card, on which a few words were written: "For
+Miss Heron's birthday, with compliments and good wishes from Rupert
+Vivian." Kitty read the inscription; her lip curled, but she still kept
+silence. Hugo thought that her eye rested with some complacency upon the
+silver beads; but she did not express a tithe of the pleasure and
+surprise which flowed so readily from Mrs. Heron's fluent tongue.
+
+"Don't you like them, Kitty?" asked an inconvenient younger brother who
+had entered the room.
+
+"They are very pretty," said Kitty.
+
+"Not so pretty as the ornament he sent you last year," said Harry. "But
+it's very jolly of him to send such nice things every birthday, ain't
+it?"
+
+"Yes, he is very kind," Kitty answered, with a shy sort of stiffness,
+which seemed to show that she could well dispense with his kindness.
+Hugo laughed to himself, and pictured Vivian's discomfiture if he had
+seen the reception of his present. He changed the subject.
+
+"Have you been long in Scotland, Miss Murray?"
+
+"For a fortnight only. We came rather suddenly, hearing that the tenant
+had left this house. We expected him to stay for some time longer."
+
+"It is fortunate for us that Strathleckie happened to fall vacant," said
+Hugo, gravely.
+
+"Do you know, Betty," said one of the boys at that moment, "that Mr.
+Stretton says he has been in Scotland before, and knows this part of the
+country very well?"
+
+"Yes, he told me so."
+
+"Mr. Stretton is our tutor," said Harry, kindly explaining his remark to
+the visitor. "He only came yesterday morning. He had a holiday when we
+came here; and so had we."
+
+"I presume that you like holidays," said Hugo, caressing the silky
+moustache that was just covering his upper lip, and smiling at the
+child, with a notion that he was making himself pleasant to the ladies
+of the party by doing so.
+
+"I liked holidays before Mr. Stretton came to us," said Harry. "But I
+don't mind lessons half so much now. He teaches in such a jolly sort of
+way."
+
+"Mr. Stretton is a favourite," remarked Hugo, looking at the mother.
+
+"Such a clever man!" sighed Mrs. Heron. "So kind to the children! We met
+him in Italy."
+
+"I think I saw him at the station yesterday. He has grey hair?"
+
+"Yes, but he's quite young," interposed Harry, indignantly. "He isn't
+thirty; I asked him. He had a brain fever, and it turned his hair grey;
+he told me so."
+
+"It has a very striking effect," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "He has a
+fine face--my husband says a beautiful face--and framed in that grey
+hair----I wish you could see him, Mr. Luttrell, but he is so shy that it
+seems impossible to drag him out of his own particular den."
+
+"So very shy, is he?" thought Hugo to himself. "I wonder where I have
+seen him. I am sure I have seen him before, and I am sure that he knew
+me. Well, I must wait. I suppose I shall meet him again in the course of
+time."
+
+He took his leave, remembering that he had already out-stayed the
+conventional limits of a call; and he was pleased when Mrs. Heron showed
+some warmth of interest in his future movements, and expressed a wish to
+see him again very soon. Her words showed either ignorance or languid
+neglect of the usages of society, but they did not offend him. He wanted
+to come again. He wanted to see more of Kitty.
+
+He had ridden from Strathleckie to Netherglen, and he paced his horse
+slowly along the solitary road which he had to traverse on his way
+homewards. The beautiful autumn tints and the golden haze that filled
+the air had no attractions for him. But it was pleasant to him to be
+away from Mrs. Luttrell; and he wanted a little space of time in which
+to meditate upon his future course of action. He had seen the woman whom
+his aunt wished him to marry. Well, she was handsome enough; she was
+rich; she would look well at the head of his table, ruling over his
+household, managing his affairs and her own. But he would rather that it
+had been Kitty.
+
+At this point he brought his horse to a sudden standstill. Before him,
+leaning over a gate with his back to the road, he saw a man whom he
+recognised at once. It was Mr. Stretton, the tutor. He had taken off his
+hat, and his grey hair looked very remarkable upon his youthful figure.
+Hugo walked his horse slowly forward, but the beat of the animal's feet
+on the hard road aroused the tutor from his reverie. He glanced round,
+saw Hugo approaching, and then, without haste, but without hesitation,
+quietly opened the gate, and made his way into the field.
+
+Hugo stopped again, and watched him as he crossed the field. He was very
+curious concerning this stranger. He felt as if he ought to recognise
+him, and he could not imagine why.
+
+Mr. Stretton was almost out of sight, and Hugo was just turning away,
+when his eye fell upon a piece of white paper on the ground beside the
+gate. It looked like a letter. Had the tutor dropped it as he loitered
+in the road? Hugo was off his horse instantly, and had the paper in his
+hand. It was a letter written on thin, foreign paper, in a small, neat,
+foreign hand; it was addressed to Mr. John Stretton, and it was written
+in Italian.
+
+To Hugo, Italian was as familiar as English, and a momentary glance
+showed him that this letter contained information that might be valuable
+to him. He could not read it on the road; the owner of the letter might
+discover his loss and turn back at any moment to look for it. He put it
+carefully into his pocket, mounted his horse again, and made the best of
+his way to Netherglen.
+
+He was so late in arriving that he had little time to devote to the
+letter before dinner. But when Mrs. Luttrell had kissed him and said
+good-night, when he, with filial courtesy, had conducted her to the door
+of her bed-room, and taken his final leave of her and of Angela on the
+landing, then he made his way to the library, rang for more lights, more
+coal, spirits and hot water, and prepared to devote a little time to the
+deciphering of the letter which Mr. John Stretton had been careless
+enough to lose.
+
+He was not fond of the library. It was next to the room in which they
+had laid Richard Luttrell when they brought him home after the
+"accident." It looked out on the same stretch of garden; the rose trees
+that had tapped mournfully at that other window, when Hugo was compelled
+by Brian to pay a last visit to the room where the dead man lay, had
+sent out long shoots that reached the panes of the library window, too.
+When there was any breeze, those branches would go on tap, tapping
+against the glass like the sound of a human hand. Hugo hated the noise
+of that ghostly tapping: he hated the room itself, and the long, dark
+corridor upon which it opened, but it was the most convenient place in
+the house for his purpose, and he therefore made use of it.
+
+"San Stefano!" he murmured to himself, as he looked at the name of the
+place from which the letter had been dated. "Why, I have heard my uncle
+mention San Stefano as the place where Brian was born. They lived there
+for some months. My aunt had an illness there, which nobody ever liked
+to talk about. Hum! What connection has Mr. John Stretton with San
+Stefano, I wonder? Let me see."
+
+He spread the letter carefully out before him, turned up the lamp, and
+began to read. As he read, his face turned somewhat pale; he read
+certain passages twice, and then remained for a time in the same
+position, with his elbows upon the table and his face supported between
+his hands. He found matter for thought in that letter.
+
+It ran as follows:--
+
+"My Dear Mr. Stretton,--I will continue to address you by this name as
+you desire me to do, although I am at a loss to understand your motive
+in assuming it. You will excuse my making this remark; the confidence
+that you have hitherto reposed in me leads me to utter a criticism which
+might otherwise be deemed an impertinence. But it seems to me a pity
+that you either did not retain your old name and the advantages that
+this name placed in your way, or that you did not take up the
+appellation which, as I fear I must repeat, is the only one to which you
+have any legal right. If your name is not Luttrell, it is Vasari. If you
+object to retaining the name of Luttrell, why not adopt Vasari? Why
+complicate matters by taking a name (like that of Stretton) which has no
+meaning, no importance, no distinction? All unnecessary concealment of
+truth is foolish; and this is an unnecessary concealment.
+
+"Secondly, may I ask why you propose to accompany your English friends
+to a place so near your old home? If you wish it to be thought that you
+are dead, why, in Heaven's name, do you go to a spot which is not ten
+miles from the house where you were brought up? True, your appearance is
+altered; your hair is grey and your beard has grown. But your voice:
+have you thought how easily your voice may betray you? And I have known
+cases where the eyes alone have revealed a person's identity. If you
+wish to keep your secret, let me entreat you not to go to Strathleckie.
+If you wish to undo all that you have succeeded in doing, if you wish to
+deprive the lady who has inherited the Strathleckie property of her
+inheritance, then, indeed, you will go to Scotland, but in so doing you
+show a want of judgment and resolution which I cannot understand.
+
+"You were at the monastery with us after your illness for many months.
+We learned to know you well and to regard you with affection. We were
+sorry when you grew restless and wandered away from us to seek fresh
+work amongst English people--English and Protestant--for the sake of old
+associations and habit. But we did not think--or at least I did not
+think--that you were so illogical and so weak as your present conduct
+drives me to consider you.
+
+"There is only one explanation possible. You risk discovery, you follow
+these people to Scotland because one of the ladies of the family has
+given you, or you hope that she will give you, some special marks of
+favour. In plain words, you are in love. I have partially gathered that
+from your letters. Perhaps she also is in love with you. There is a Miss
+Heron, who is said to be beautiful; there is also Miss Murray. Is it on
+account of either of these ladies that you have returned to Scotland?
+
+"I speak very frankly, because I conceive that I have a certain claim
+upon your confidence. I do not merely allude to the kindness shown to
+you by the Brothers of San Stefano, which probably saved your life. I
+claim your regard because I know that you were born in this village,
+baptised by one of ourselves, that you are of Italian parentage, and
+that you have never had any right to the name that you have borne for
+four-and-twenty years. This was suspicion when I saw you last; it is
+certainty now. We have found the woman Vincenza, who is your mother. She
+has told us her story, and it is one which even your English courts of
+law will find it difficult to disprove. She acknowledges that she
+changed the two children; that, when one of her twins died, she thought
+that she could benefit the other by putting it in the place of the
+English child. Her own baby, Bernardino, was brought up by the Luttrell
+family and called Brian Luttrell. That was yourself.
+
+"How about the English boy, the real heir to the property? I told you
+about him when you were with us; I offered to let you see him: I wanted
+you to know him. You declined; I think you were wrong. You did see him
+many a time; you were friendly with him, although you did not know the
+connection that existed between you. I believe that you will remember
+him when I tell you that he was known in the monastery as Brother Dino.
+Dino Vasari was the name by which he had been known; but I think that
+you never learnt his surname. He had a romantic affection for you, and
+was grieved when you refused to meet the man who had so curious a claim
+upon your notice. I sent him away from the monastery in a few days, as
+you will perhaps remember; I knew that if he saw much of you, not even
+my authority, my influence, would induce him to keep the secret of his
+birth--from you. You are rivals, certainly; you might be enemies; and,
+just because that cause of rivalry and enmity subsists, Dino Vasari
+loves you with his whole soul. If you stood in your old position, even I
+could not persuade him to dispossess you; but you have voluntarily given
+it up. Your property has gone to your cousin, and Dino has now no
+scruple about claiming his rights. Now that Vincenza Vasari's evidence
+has been obtained, it is thought well that he should make the story
+public, and try to get his position acknowledged. Therefore he is
+starting for England, where he will arrive on the eighteenth of the
+month. He has his orders, and he will obey them. It is perhaps well that
+you should know what they are. He is to proceed at once to Scotland, and
+obtain interviews as soon as possible with Mr. Colquhoun and Mrs.
+Luttrell. He will submit his claims to them, and ascertain the line that
+they will take. After that, he will put the law in motion, and take
+steps towards dispossessing Miss Murray.
+
+"I write all this to you at Dino's own request. I grieve to say that he
+is occasionally headstrong to a degree which gives us pain and anxiety.
+He refused to take any steps in the matter until I had communicated with
+you, because he says that if you intend to make yourself known by your
+former name, and take back the property which accrued to you upon Mr.
+Richard Luttrell's death, he will not stand in your way. I have pointed
+out to him, as I now point out to you, that this line of action would be
+dishonest, and practically impossible, because, in his interests, we
+should then take the matter up and make the facts public, but he insists
+upon my mentioning the proposal. I mention it in full confidence that
+your generosity and sense of honour will alike prevent you from putting
+obstacles in the way of my pupil's recognition by his mother and
+succession to his inheritance.
+
+"If you wish that Dino (as for the sake of convenience I will still call
+him) should be restored to his rights, and if you desire to show that
+you have no ill-feeling towards him on account of this proposed
+endeavour to recover what is really his own, he begs you to meet him on
+his arrival in London on the 18th of August. He will be in lodgings kept
+by a good Catholic friend of ours at No. 14, Tarragon-street,
+Russell-square, and you will inquire for him by the name of Mr. Vasari,
+as he will not assume the name of Brian Luttrell until he has seen you.
+He will, of course, be in secular dress.
+
+"I have now made you master of all necessary facts. If I have done so
+under protest, it is no concern of yours. I earnestly recommend you to
+give up your residence in Scotland, and to return, at any rate until
+this matter is settled, to San Stefano. I need hardly say that Brian
+Luttrell will never let you know the necessity of such drudgery as that
+in which you have lately been engaged.
+
+"With earnest wishes for your welfare, and above all for your speedy
+return to the bosom of the true Catholic Church in which you were
+baptised, and of which I hope to see you one day account yourself a
+faithful child, I remain, my dear son,
+
+    "Your faithful friend and father,
+    "Cristoforo Donaldi,
+    "Prior of the Monastery of San Stefano."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+"MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."
+
+
+Hugo's meditations were long and deep. More than an hour elapsed before
+he roused himself from the thoughtful attitude which he had assumed at
+the close of his first perusal of this letter. When he lifted his face
+from his hands, his lips were white, although they were twisted into the
+semblance of a smile.
+
+"So that is why I fancied I knew his face," he said, half aloud. "Who
+would have thought it? Brian alive, after all! What a fool he must be!
+What an unmitigated, egregious fool!"
+
+He poured out some brandy for himself with rather a shaky hand, and
+drank it off without water. He shivered a little, and drew closer to the
+fire. "It's a very cold night," he muttered, holding his hands out to
+the leaping flame, and resting his forehead upon the marble mantelpiece.
+"It's a cold night, and ---- it all, are my wits going? I can't think
+clearly; I can hardly see out of my eyes. It's the shock; that's what it
+is. The shock? Yes, Dio mio, and it is a shock, in all conscience!
+Whoever would have believed that Brian could possibly be alive all this
+time! Poor devil! I suppose that little 'accident' to Richard preyed
+upon his mind. He must be mad to have given up his property from a
+scruple of that sort. I never should have thought that a man could be
+such a fool. It's an awful complication."
+
+He threw himself into an arm-chair, and leaned back with his dark,
+delicately-beautiful face slanted reflectively towards the ceiling. He
+was too much disturbed in mind to afford himself the solace of a cigar.
+
+"This old fellow--the Prior--seems to know the family affairs very
+intimately," he went on thinking. "This is another extraordinary
+occurrence. Brian alive is nothing to the fact that Brian is the son of
+some Italian woman--a peasant-woman probably. Did Aunt Margaret suspect
+it? She always hated Brian; every one could see that. When she said
+once, 'He is not my son,' did she mean the words literally? Quite
+possible."
+
+"And the real Brian Luttrell is now to appear on the scene! What is his
+name? Dino--Bernardino--Vasari. Of course, there was little use in his
+coming forward as long as Richard Luttrell was alive. Now that he is
+gone and Brian is heir to the property, this young fellow, whom the
+priests have got hold of, becomes important. No doubt this is what they
+have hoped for all along. He will have the property and he is a devout
+son of the Church, and will employ it to Catholic ends. I know the
+jargon--I heard enough of it in Sicily. They have the proofs, no
+doubt--they could easily manufacture them if they were wanting; and they
+will oust Elizabeth Murray and set their pet pupil in her place, and
+manage the land and the money and everything else for him. And what will
+Mrs. Luttrell say?"
+
+He paused, and changed his position uneasily. His brows contracted; his
+eye grew restless as he continued to reflect.
+
+"It's my belief," he said at last, "that Mrs. Luttrell will be
+enchanted. And then what will become of me?"
+
+He rose from his chair and began to pace up and down the room. "What
+will become of me?" he repeated. "What will become of the
+fifteen-hundred a-year, and the house and grounds, and all the rest of
+the good things that she promised to give me? They will go, no doubt, to
+the son and heir. Did she ever propose to give me anything while Richard
+and Brian had to be provided for? Not she! She notices me now only
+because she thinks that I am the only Luttrell in existence. When she
+knows that there is a son of her's still living, I shall go to the wall.
+I shall be ruined. There will be no Netherglen for me, no marriage with
+an heiress, no love-making with pretty little Kitty. I shall have to
+disappear from the scene. I cannot hold my ground against a son--a son
+of the house! Curses on him! Why isn't he dead?"
+
+Hugo bestowed a few choice Sicilian epithets of a maledictory character
+upon Dino Vasari and Brian Luttrell both; then he returned to the table
+and studied the latter pages of Father Cristoforo's letter.
+
+"Meet him in London. I should like to meet Dino Vasari, too. I wonder
+whether Brian had read this letter when he dropped it. These
+instructions come at the very end. If he has not read these sentences, I
+might find a way of outwitting them all yet. I think I could prevent
+Dino Vasari from ever setting foot in Scotland. How can I find out?"
+
+"And what an extraordinary thing for Brian to do--to take a tutorship in
+the very family where Elizabeth Murray is living. What has he done it
+for? Is he in love with one of those girls? Or does he hope to retrieve
+his mistake by persuading Elizabeth Murray to marry him? A very
+round-about way of getting back his fortune, unless he means to induce
+Dino Vasari to hold his tongue. If Dino Vasari were out of the way, and
+Brian felt his title to the estate rather shaky, of course, it would be
+very clever of him to make love to Elizabeth. But he's too great a fool
+for that. What was his motive, I wonder? Is it possible that he did not
+know who she was?"
+
+But he rejected this suggestion as an entirely incredible one.
+
+After a little further thought, another idea occurred to him. Father
+Cristoforo's letter consisted of three closely-written sheets of paper.
+He separated the first sheet from the others; the last words on the
+sheet ran as follows:--
+
+"Is it on account of either of these ladies that you have returned to
+England?"
+
+This sheet he folded and enclosed in an envelope, which he carefully
+sealed and addressed to John Stretton, Esquire. He placed the other
+sheets in his own pocket-book, and then went peacefully to bed. He could
+do nothing more, he told himself, and, although his excitable
+disposition prevented his sleeping until dawn grew red in the eastern
+sky, he would not waste his powers unnecessarily by sitting up to brood
+over the resolution that he had taken.
+
+Before ten o'clock next morning he was riding to Strathleckie. On
+reaching the house he asked at once if he could see Mr. Stretton. The
+maid-servant who answered the door looked surprised, hesitated a moment,
+and then asked him to walk in. He followed her, and was not surprised to
+find that she was conducting him straight to the school-room, which was
+on the ground-floor. He had thought that she looked stupid; now he was
+sure of it. But it was a stupidity so much to his advantage that he
+mentally vowed to reward it by the gift of half-a-crown when he had the
+opportunity.
+
+The boys were at their lessons; their tutor sat at the head of the
+table, with his back towards the light. When he saw Hugo enter, he
+calmly took a pair of blue spectacles from the table and fixed them upon
+his nose. Hugo admired the coolness of the action. The blue spectacles
+were even a better disguise than the grey hair and the beard; if Mr.
+Stretton had worn them when he was standing at the railway station door,
+Hugo would never have been haunted by that look of recognition in his
+eyes.
+
+"Mary has made a mistake," said Mr. Stretton to one of the boys, in a
+curiously-muffled voice. "Take this gentleman up to the drawing-room,
+Harry."
+
+"There is no mistake," said Hugo, suavely. "I called to see Mr. Stretton
+on business; it will not take me a moment to explain. Mr. Stretton, may
+I ask whether you have lost any paper--a letter, I think--during the
+last few days?"
+
+"Yes. I lost a letter yesterday afternoon."
+
+"On the high road, I think. Then I was not mistaken in supposing that a
+paper that the wind blew to my feet this morning, as I was strolling
+down the road, belonged to yourself. Will you kindly open this envelope
+and tell me whether the paper contained in it is yours?"
+
+Mr. Stretton took the envelope and opened it without a word. He looked
+at the sheet, saw that one only was there, and then replied.
+
+"I am much obliged to you for your kindness. Yes, this is part of the
+letter that I lost."
+
+"Only part? Indeed, I am sorry for that," said Hugo, with every
+appearance of genuine interest. "I was first attracted towards it
+because it looked like a foreign letter, and I saw that it was written
+in Italian. On taking it up, I observed that it was addressed to a Mr.
+Stretton, and I could think of no other Mr. Stretton in the
+neighbourhood but yourself."
+
+"I am much obliged to you," Mr. Stretton repeated.
+
+"I hope you will find the rest of the letter," said Hugo, with rather a
+mocking look in his beautiful eyes. "It is awkward sometimes to drop
+one's correspondence. I need hardly say that it was safe in my
+hands----"
+
+"I am sure of that," said Mr. Stretton, mechanically.
+
+"But others might have found it--and read it. I hope it was not an
+important letter."
+
+"I hope not," Mr. Stretton answered, recovering himself a little; "but
+the fact is that I had read only the first page or two when I was
+interrupted, and I must have dropped it instead of putting it into my
+pocket."
+
+"That was unfortunate," said Hugo. "I hope it contained no very
+important communication. Good morning, Mr. Stretton; good morning to
+you," he added, with a smile for the children. "I must not interrupt you
+any longer."
+
+He withdrew, with a feeling of contemptuous wonder at the carelessness
+of a man who could lose a letter that he had never read. It was not the
+kind of carelessness that he practised.
+
+He did not leave the house without encountering Mrs. Heron and Kitty. He
+was easily persuaded to stay for a little time. It cost him no effort to
+make himself agreeable. He was like one of those sleek-coated animals of
+the panther tribe, sufficiently tamed or tameable to like caresses; and
+very few people recognised the latent ferocity that lay beneath the
+velvet softness of those dreamy eyes. He could bask in the sunshine like
+a cat; but he was only half-tamed after all.
+
+Elizabeth distrusted him; Kitty thought her unjust, and therefore acted
+as though she liked him better than she really did. She was a child
+still in her love of mischief, and she soon found a sort of pleasure in
+alternately vexing and pleasing her new admirer. But she was not in
+earnest. What did it matter to her if Hugo Luttrell's eyes glowed when
+she spoke a kind word to him, or his brow grew black as thunder if she
+neglected him for someone else? It never occurred to her to question
+whether it was wise to trifle with passions which might be of truly
+Southern vehemence and intensity.
+
+Hugo did not leave the house without making--or thinking that he had
+made--a discovery. Mr. Stretton did not appear at luncheon, but Hugo
+caught sight of him afterwards in the garden--with Elizabeth. To Hugo's
+mind, the very attitude assumed by the tutor in speaking to Miss Murray
+was a revelation. He was as sure as he was of his own existence that Mr.
+Stretton was "in love." Whether the affection was returned by Miss
+Murray or not he could not feel so sure.
+
+He made his way, after his visit to the Herons, to Mr. Colquhoun's
+office, and was fortunate in finding that gentleman at home.
+
+"Well, Hugo, and how are you?" asked the lawyer, who did not regard Mrs.
+Luttrell's nephew with any particular degree of favour. "What brings you
+to this part of the world again?"
+
+"My aunt's invitation," said Hugo.
+
+"Ah, yes; your aunt has a hankering after anybody of the name of
+Luttrell, at present. It won't last. Don't trust to it, Hugo."
+
+"I cannot say that I know what you mean, Mr. Colquhoun. I suppose I am
+at liberty to accept my aunt's repeated and pressing invitation? I came
+here to ask you a question. I will not trespass on your time longer than
+I can help."
+
+"Ask away, lad," said the old lawyer, not much impressed by Hugo's
+stateliness of demeanour. "Ask away. You'll get no lies, at any rate.
+And what is it you're wanting now?"
+
+"Have you any reason to suppose that my cousin Brian is not dead?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Colquhoun, shortly. "I haven't. I wish I had. Have you?"
+
+Without replying to this question, Hugo asked another.
+
+"You have no reason to think that there is any other man who would call
+himself by that name?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Colquhoun again, "I haven't. And I don't wish I had. But
+have you?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo.
+
+"Come, come, come," said the lawyer, restlessly; "you are joking, young
+man. Don't carry a joke too far. What do you mean?"
+
+Again Hugo replied by a question. "Did you ever hear of a place called
+San Stefano?" he said, gently.
+
+Old Mr. Colquhoun bounded in his seat. "Good God!" he said, although he
+was not a man given to the use of such ejaculations. And then he stared
+fixedly at Hugo.
+
+"I can't think how it has been kept quiet so long," said Hugo,
+tentatively. He was feeling his way. But this remark roused Mr.
+Colquhoun's ire.
+
+"Kept quiet? There was nothing to be kept quiet. Nothing except Mrs.
+Luttrell's own delusion on the subject; nobody wanted it to be known
+that she was as mad as a March hare on the subject. The nurse was as
+honest as the day. I saw her and questioned her myself."
+
+"But my aunt never believed----"
+
+"She never believed Brian to be her son. So much I may tell you without
+any breach of confidence, now that they are both in their graves, poor
+lads!" And then Mr. Colquhoun launched out upon the story of Mrs.
+Luttrell's illness and (so-called) delusion, to all of which Hugo
+listened with serious attention. But at the close of the narrative, the
+lawyer remembered Hugo's opening question. "And how did you come to know
+anything about it?" he said.
+
+Hugo's answer was ready. "I met a queer sort of man in the town this
+morning who was making inquiries that set me on the alert. I got hold of
+him--walked along the road with him for some distance--and heard a long
+story. He was a priest, I think--sent from San Stefano to investigate. I
+got a good deal out of him."
+
+"Eh?" said Mr. Colquhoun, slowly. "And where might he be staying, yon
+priest?"
+
+"Didn't ask," replied Hugo. "I told him to come to you for information.
+So you can look out. There's something in the wind, I'm sure. I thought
+you might have heard of it. Thank you for your readiness to enlighten
+me, Mr. Colquhoun. I've learnt a good deal to-day. Good morning."
+
+"Now what did he mean by that?" said the lawyer, when he was left alone.
+"It's hard to tell when he's telling the truth and when he's lying just
+for the pleasure of it, so to speak. As for his priest--I'm not so sure
+that I believe in his priest. I'll send down to the hotel and inquire."
+
+He sent to every hotel in the place, and from every hotel he received
+the same answer. They had no foreign visitor, and had had none for the
+last three weeks. There was apparently not a priest in the place. "It'll
+just be one of Master Hugo's lies," said Mr. Colquhoun, grimly. "There's
+a rod in pickle for that young man one of these days, and I should like
+well to have the applying of it to his shoulders. He's an awful scamp,
+is Hugo."
+
+There was a triumphant smile upon Hugo's face as he rode away from the
+lawyer's office. Twice in that day had his generalship been successful,
+and his success disposed him to think rather meanly of his
+fellow-creatures' intellects. It was surely very easy, and decidedly
+pleasant, to outwit one's neighbours! He had made both Brian and Mr.
+Colquhoun give him information which they would have certainly withheld
+had they known the object for which it had been asked. He was proud of
+his own dexterity.
+
+On his arrival at Netherglen he found that Mrs. Luttrell and Angela had
+gone for a drive. He was glad of it. He wanted a little time to himself
+in Brian's old room. He had already noticed that an old-fashioned
+davenport which stood in this room had never been emptied of its
+contents, and in this davenport he found two or three papers which were
+of service to him. He took them away to his bed-room, where he practised
+a certain kind of handwriting for two or three hours with tolerable
+success. He tried it again after dinner, when everybody was in bed, and
+he tried it again next day. It was rather a difficult hand to imitate
+well, but he was not easily discouraged.
+
+"I am afraid, dear aunt, that I must run up to town for a day or two,"
+he said to Mrs. Luttrell that evening, with engaging frankness. "I have
+business to transact. But I will be back in three or four days at most,
+if you will permit me."
+
+"Do as you please, Hugo," said Mrs. Luttrell, in her stoniest manner. "I
+have no wish to impose any kind of trammels upon you."
+
+"Dear Aunt Margaret, the only trammels that you impose are those of
+love!" said Hugo, in his silkiest undertone.
+
+Angela looked up. For the moment she was puzzled. To her, Hugo's speech
+sounded insincere. But the glance of the eye that she encountered was so
+caressing, the curves of his mouth were so sweetly infantine, that she
+accused herself of harsh judgment, and remembered Hugo's foreign blood
+and Continental training, which had given him the habit, she supposed,
+of saying "pretty things." She could not doubt his sincerity when she
+looked at the peach-like bloom of that oval face, the impenetrable
+softness of those velvet eyes. Hugo's physical beauty always stood him
+in good stead.
+
+"You are an affectionate, warm-hearted boy, I believe, Hugo," said Mrs.
+Luttrell. Then, after a short pause, she added, with no visible link of
+connection, "I have written instructions to Colquhoun. I expect him here
+to-morrow."
+
+Hugo looked innocent and attentive, but made no comment. His aunt kissed
+him with more warmth than usual when she said good-night. She had seldom
+kissed her sons after they reached manhood; but she caressed Hugo very
+frequently. She was softer in her manner with him than she had been even
+with Richard.
+
+"Take care of yourself in London," she said to him. "Do you want any
+money?"
+
+"No, thank you, Aunt Margaret. I shall be back in three days if I start
+to-morrow--at least, I think so. I'll telegraph if I am detained."
+
+"Yes, do so. To-morrow is the seventeenth. You will be back by the
+twentieth?"
+
+"If my business is done," said Hugo. And then he went back to his little
+experiments in caligraphy.
+
+It was not until the afternoon of the 18th of August that he found
+himself at the door of No. 14, Tarragon-street. It was a dingy-looking
+house in a dismal-looking street. Hugo shivered a little as he pulled
+the tarnished bell-handle. "How can people live in streets like this?"
+he said to himself, with a slight contemptuous shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"Mr. Vasari?" he said, interrogatively, as a downcast-looking woman came
+to the door.
+
+"Yes, sir. What name, sir, if you please?"
+
+"Say that a gentleman from Scotland wishes to see him."
+
+The woman gave him a keen look, as if she knew something of the errand
+upon which Dino Vasari had come to her house; but said nothing, and
+ushered him at once into a sitting-room on the ground-floor. The room
+was curtained so heavily that it seemed nearly dark. Hugo could not see
+whether it was tenanted by more than one person; of one he was sure,
+because that one person came to meet him with outstretched hands and
+eager words of greeting.
+
+"Mr. Luttrell! You have come, then; you have come--I knew you would!"
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Hugo, and at the sound of his voice the first
+speaker fell back amazed; "but I am Hugo Luttrell--not Brian. I come
+from him."
+
+"A thousand pardons; this English darkness is to blame," said the other,
+in fluent English speech, though with a slightly foreign accent. "Let us
+have lights; then we can know each other. I am--Dino Vasari."
+
+He said the name with a certain hesitation, as though not sure whether
+or no he ought to call himself by it. The light of a candle fell
+suddenly upon the two faces--which were turned towards one another in
+some curiosity. The two had a kind of superficial likeness of feature,
+but a total dissimilarity of expression. The subtlety of Hugo's eyes and
+mouth was never shown more clearly than when contrasted with the noble
+gravity that marked every line of Dino's traits. They stood and looked
+at each other for a moment--Dino, wrapped in admiration; Hugo, lost in a
+thought of dark significance.
+
+"So you are the man!" he was saying to himself. "You call yourself my
+cousin, do you? And you want the Strathleckie and the Luttrell estates?
+Be warned and go back to Italy, my good cousin, while you have time; you
+will never reach Scotland alive, I promise you. I shall kill you first,
+as I should kill a snake lying in my path. Never in your life, Mr. Dino
+Vasari, were you in greater danger than you are just now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.
+
+
+"I am Brian Luttrell's cousin," said Hugo, quietly, "and I come from
+him."
+
+"Then you know--you know----" Dino stammered, and he looked eagerly into
+Hugo's face.
+
+"I know all."
+
+"You know where he is now?"
+
+"I do. I have brought you a letter from him--a sort of introduction,"
+said Hugo, with a faint smile. "I trust that you will find it
+satisfactory."
+
+"No introduction is necessary," was Dino's polite reply. "I have heard
+him speak of you."
+
+Hugo's eyes flashed an interrogation. What had Brian said of him? But
+Dino's tones were so courteous, his face so calmly impassive, that Hugo
+was reassured. He bowed slightly, and placed a card and a letter on the
+table. Dino made an apology for opening the letter, and moved away from
+the table whilst he read it.
+
+There was a pause. Hugo's face flushed, his hands twitched a little. He
+was actually nervous about the success of his scheme. Suppose Dino were
+to doubt the genuineness of that letter!
+
+It consisted of a few words only, and they were Italian:--
+
+"Dino mio," it began, "the bearer of this letter is my cousin Hugo, who
+knows all the circumstances and will explain to you what are my views. I
+am ill, and cannot come to London. Burn this note.
+
+    "Brian Luttrell."
+
+Dino read it twice, and then handed it to Hugo, who perused it with as
+profound attention as though he had never seen the document before. When
+he gave it back, he was almost surprised to see Dino take it at once to
+the grate, deposit it amongst the coals, and wait until it was consumed
+to ashes before he spoke. There was a slight sternness of aspect, a
+compression of the lips, and a contraction of the brow, which impressed
+Hugo unfavourably during the performance of this action. It seemed to
+show that Dino Vasari might not be a man so easy to deal with as Brian
+Luttrell.
+
+"I have done what I was asked to do," he said, drawing himself up to his
+full height, and turning round with folded arms and darkening brow. "I
+have burnt his letter, and I should now be glad, Mr. Luttrell, to hear
+the views which you were to explain to me."
+
+"My cousin Brian----" began Hugo, with some deliberation; but he was not
+allowed to finish his sentence. Quick as thought, Dino Vasari
+interrupted him.
+
+"Pardon me, would it not be as well--under the circumstances--to speak
+of the gentleman in question as Mr. Stretton?"
+
+Hugo shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I have no objection," he said, "so long as you do not take my calling
+him by that name to be the expression of my opinion concerning the
+subject under consideration."
+
+This was so elaborate a sentence that Dino took some little time to
+consider it.
+
+"I see," he said at last, with a questioning look; "you mean that you
+are not convinced that he is the son of Vincenza Vasari?"
+
+"Neither is he," said Hugo.
+
+"But if we have proof----"
+
+"Mr. Vasari, you cannot imagine that my cousin will give up his rights
+without a struggle?"
+
+"But he has given them up," said Dino, vehemently. "He refuses to be
+called by his own name; he has let the estates pass away from him----"
+
+"But he means to claim his rights again," said Hugo.
+
+"Oh." Then there was a long silence. Dino sat down in a chair facing
+that of Hugo, and confronted him steadily. "I understood," he said at
+last, "when I was in Italy, that he had resolved to give up all claim to
+his name, or to his estate. He had disagreeable associations with both.
+He determined to let himself be thought dead, and to earn his own living
+under the name of John Stretton."
+
+"He did do so," said Hugo, softly; "but he has changed his mind."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"If I tell you why, may I ask you to keep what I say a profound secret?"
+
+Dino hesitated. Then he said firmly, "I will keep it secret so long as
+he desires me to do so."
+
+"Then listen. The reason of his change of mind is this. He has fallen in
+love. You will ask--with whom? With the woman to whom his estate has
+passed--Miss Murray. He means to marry her, and in that way to get back
+the estate which, by his own mad folly, he has forfeited."
+
+"Is this true?" said Dino, slowly. He fixed his penetrating dark eyes
+upon Hugo as he spoke, and turned a little pale. "And does this
+lady--this Miss Murray--know who he is? For I hear that he calls himself
+Stretton in her house. Does she know?"
+
+Hugo deliberated a little. "No," he answered, "I am sure that she does
+not."
+
+Dino rose to his feet. "It is impossible," he said, with an indignant
+flash of his dark eyes, which startled Hugo; "Brian would never be so
+base."
+
+"My only wonder is," murmured Hugo, reflectively, "that Brian should be
+so clever."
+
+"You call it clever?" said Dino, still more indignantly. "You call it
+clever to deceive a woman, to marry her for her money, to mislead her
+about one's name? Are these your English fashions? Is it clever to break
+your word, to throw away the love and the help that is offered you, to
+show yourself selfish, and designing, and false? This is what you tell
+me about the man whom you call your cousin, and then you ask me to
+admire his behaviour? Oh, no, I do not admire it. I call it mean, and
+base, and vile. And that is why he would not come to see me himself;
+that is why he sent you as an emissary. He could not look me in the face
+and tell me the things that you have told me!"
+
+He sat down again. The fire died out of his eyes, the hectic colour from
+his cheek. "But I do not believe it!" he said, more sorrowfully than
+angrily; and in a much lower voice; "I do not believe that he means to
+do this thing. He was always good and always true."
+
+Hugo watched him, and spoke after a little pause. "You had his letter,"
+he said. "He told you to believe what I said to you. I could explain his
+views."
+
+"Ah, but look you, perhaps you do not understand," said Dino, turning
+towards him with renewed vivacity. "It is a hard position, this of mine.
+Ever since I was a little child, it was hinted to me that I had English
+parents, that I did not belong to the Vasari family. When I grew older,
+the whole story of Vincenza's change of the children was told to me, and
+I used to think of the Italian boy who had taken my place, and wonder
+whether he would be sorry to exchange it for mine. I was not sorry; I
+loved my own life in the monastery. I wanted to be a priest. But I
+thought of the boy who bore my name; I wove fancies about him night and
+day; I wished with all my heart to see him. I used to think that the day
+would come when I should say to him--'Let us know each other; let us
+keep our secret, but love each other nevertheless. You can be Brian
+Luttrell, and I will be Dino Vasari, as long as the world lasts. We will
+not change. But we will be friends.'"
+
+His voice grew husky; he leaned his head upon his hands for a few
+moments, and did not speak. Hugo still watched him curiously. He was
+interested in the revelation of a nature so different from his own;
+interested, but contemptuous of it, too.
+
+"I could dream in this way," said Dino at last, "so long as no land--no
+money--was concerned. While Brian Luttrell was the second son the
+exchange of children was, after all, of very little consequence. When
+Richard Luttrell died, the position of things was changed. If he had
+lived, you would never have heard of Vincenza Vasari's dishonesty. The
+priests knew that there would be little to be gained by it. But when he
+died my life became a burden to me, because they were always saying--'Go
+and claim your inheritance. Go to Scotland and dispossess the man who
+lords it over your lands, and spends your revenues. Take your rights.'"
+
+"And then you met Brian?" said Hugo, as the narrator paused again.
+
+"I met him and I loved him. I was sorry for his unhappiness. He learnt
+the story that I had known for so many years, and it galled him. He
+refused to see the man who really ought to have borne his name. He knew
+me well enough, but he never suspected that I was Mr. Luttrell's son. We
+parted at San Stefano with friendly words; he did not suspect that I was
+leaving the place because I could not bear to see him day by day
+brooding over his grief, and never tell him that I did not wish to take
+his place."
+
+"But why did you not tell him?"
+
+"I was ordered to keep silence. The Prior said that he would tell him
+the whole story in good time. They sent me away, and, after a time, I
+heard from Father Cristoforo that he was gone, and had found a tutorship
+in an English family, that he vowed never to bear the name of Luttrell
+any more, and that the way was open for me to claim my own rights, as
+the woman Vincenza Vasari had been found and made confession."
+
+"So you came to England with that object?"
+
+"With the object, first," said Dino, lifting his face from his crossed
+arms, "of seeing him and asking him whether he was resolved to despoil
+himself of his name and fortune. I would not have raised a hand to do
+either, but, if he himself did it, I thought that I might pick up what
+he threw away. Not for myself, but for the Church to which I belong. The
+Church should have it all."
+
+"Would you give it away?" cried Hugo.
+
+"I am to be a monk. A monk has no property," was Dino's answer. "I
+wanted to be sure that he did not repent of his decision before I moved
+a finger."
+
+"You seem to have no scruple about despoiling Miss Murray of her goods,"
+said Hugo, drily.
+
+A fresh gleam shot from the young man's eyes.
+
+"Miss Murray is a woman," he said, briefly. "She does not need an
+estate. She will marry."
+
+"Marry Brian Luttrell, perhaps."
+
+"If she marries him as Mr. Stretton, she must take the consequences."
+
+"Well," said Hugo, "I must confess, Mr. Vasari, that I do not understand
+you. In one breath you say you would not injure Brian by a
+hair's-breadth; in another you propose to leave him and his wife in
+poverty if he marries Miss Murray."
+
+"No, pardon me, you mistake," replied Dino, gently. "I will never injure
+him whom you call, Brian, but if he keeps the name of Stretton I shall
+claim the rights which he has given up. And, when the estate is mine, I
+will give him and his wife what they want; I will give them half, if
+they desire it, but I will have what is my own, first of all, and in
+spite of all."
+
+"You say, in fact, that you will not injure Brian, but that you do not
+care how much you injure Miss Murray."
+
+"That is not it," cried Dino, his dark eye lighting up and his form
+positively trembling with excitement. "I say that, if Brian himself had
+come to me and asked me to spare him, or the woman he loved, for his
+sake I would have yielded and gone back to San Stefano to-morrow; I
+would have destroyed the evidence; I would have given up all, most
+willingly; but when he treats me harshly, coldly--when he will not, now
+that he knows who I am, make one little journey to see me and tell me
+what he wishes; when he even tries to deceive me, and to deceive this
+lady of whom you speak--why, then, I stand upon my rights; and I will
+not yield one jot of my claim to the Luttrell estate and the Luttrell
+name."
+
+"You will not?"
+
+"I will fight to the death for it."
+
+Hugo smiled slightly.
+
+"There will be very little fighting necessary, if you have your evidence
+ready. You have it with you, I presume?"
+
+"I have copies; the original depositions are with my lawyer."
+
+"Ah. And he is----"
+
+"A Mr. Grattan; there is his address," said Dino, placing a card before
+his visitor. "I suppose that all further business will be transacted
+through him?"
+
+"I suppose so. Then you have made your decision?"
+
+"Yes. One moment, Mr. Luttrell. Excuse me for mentioning it; but you
+have made two statements, one of which seems to me to contradict the
+other." Dino had recovered all his usual coolness, and fixed his keen
+gaze upon Hugo in a way which that young man found a little
+embarrassing. "You told me that Brian--as we may still call
+him--intended to claim his old name once more. Then you said that he
+meant to marry Miss Murray under the name of Stretton. You will remark
+that these two intentions are incompatible; he cannot do both these
+things."
+
+Hugo felt that he had blundered.
+
+"I spoke hastily," he said, with an affectation of ingenuous frankness,
+which sat very well upon his youthful face. "I believe that his
+intentions are to preserve the name of Stretton, and to marry Miss
+Murray under it."
+
+"Then I will tell Mr. Grattan to take the necessary steps to-morrow,"
+said Dino, rising, as if to hint that the interview had now come to an
+end.
+
+Hugo looked at him with surprised, incredulous eyes.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vasari," he said, naively, "don't let us part on these
+unfriendly terms. Perhaps you will think better of the matter, and more
+kindly of Brian, if we talk it over a little more."
+
+"At the present moment, I think talk will do more harm than good, Mr.
+Luttrell."
+
+"Won't you write yourself to Brian?" faltered Hugo, as if he hardly
+dared to make the suggestion.
+
+"No, I think not. You will tell him my decision."
+
+"I'm afraid I have been a bad ambassador," said Hugo, with an air of
+boyish simplicity, "and that I have offended you."
+
+"Not at all." Dino held out his hand. "You have spoken very wisely, I
+think. Do not let me lose your esteem if I claim what I believe to be my
+rights."
+
+Hugo sighed. "I suppose we ought to be enemies--I don't know," he said.
+"I don't like making enemies--won't you come and dine with me to-night,
+just to show that you do not bear me any malice. I have rooms in town;
+we can be there in a few minutes. Come back with me and have dinner."
+
+Dino tried to evade the invitation. He would much rather have been
+alone; but Hugo would take no denial. The two went out together without
+summoning the landlady: Hugo took his companion by the arm, and walked
+for a little way down the street, then summoned a hansom from the door
+of a public-house, and gave an address which Dino did not hear. They
+drove for some distance. Dino thought that his new friend's lodgings
+were situated in a rather obscure quarter of London; but he made no
+remark in words, for he knew his own ignorance of the world, and he had
+never been in England before. Hugo's lodgings appeared to be on the
+second-floor of a gloomy-looking house, of which the ground-floor was
+occupied by a public bar and refreshment-room. The waiters were German
+or French, and the cookery was distinctly foreign in flavour. There was
+a touch of garlic in every dish, which Dino found acceptable, and which
+was not without its charm for Hugo Luttrell.
+
+Dessert was placed upon the table, and with it a flask of some old
+Italian wine, which looked to Dino as if it had come straight from the
+cellars of the monastery at San Stefano. "It is our wine," he said, with
+a smile. "It looks like an old friend."
+
+"I thought that you would appreciate it," said Hugo, with a laugh, as he
+rose and poured the red wine carelessly into Dino's glass. "It is too
+rough for me; but I was sure that you would like it."
+
+He poured out some for himself and raised the glass, but he scarcely
+touched it with his lips. His eyes were fixed upon his guest.
+
+Dino smiled, praised his host's thoughtfulness, and swallowed a mouthful
+or two of the wine; then set down his glass.
+
+"There is something wrong with the flavour," he said: "something a
+little bitter."
+
+"Try it again," said Hugo, averting his eyes. "I thought it very good.
+At any rate, it is harmless: one may drink any amount of it without
+doing oneself an injury."
+
+"Yes, but this is curiously coarse in flavour," persisted Dino. "One
+would think that it was mixed with some other spirit or cordial. But I
+must try it again."
+
+He drained his glass. Hugo refilled it immediately, but soon perceived
+that it was needless to offer his guest a second draught. Dino raised
+his hand to his brow with a puzzled gesture, and then spoke confusedly.
+
+"I do not know how it is," he said. "I am quite dizzy--I cannot
+see--I----"
+
+His eyes grew dim: his hands fell to his sides, and his head upon his
+breast. He muttered a few incoherent words, and then sank into silence,
+broken only by the sound of his heavy breathing and something like an
+occasional groan. Hugo watched him carefully, and smiled to himself now
+and then. In a short time he rose, emptied the remainder of the wine in
+the flask into Dino's glass, rinsed out the flask with clear water, then
+poured the dregs, as well as the wine in the glasses, into the mould of
+a large flower-pot that stood in a corner of the room. "Nobody can tell
+any tales now, I think," said Hugo, with a triumphant, disagreeable
+smile. And then he called the waiter and paid his bill--as if he were a
+temporary visitor instead of having lodgings in the house, as he had led
+Dino to believe.
+
+The waiter glanced once or twice at the figure on the chair. "Gentleman
+had a leetle moche to drink," he said, nodding towards poor Dino.
+
+"A little too much," said Hugo, carelessly. "He'll be better soon." Then
+he went and shook the young man by the arm. "Come," he said, "it's time
+for us to go. Wake up; I'll see you home. That wine was a little too
+strong for you, was it not?"
+
+Dino opened his eyes, half-rose, muttered something, and then sank back
+in his chair.
+
+"Gentleman want a cab, perhaps?" said the waiter.
+
+"Well, really, I don't know," said Hugo, looking quite puzzled and
+distressed. "If he can't walk we must have a cab; but if he can, I'd
+rather not; his lodgings are not far from here. Come, Jack, can't you
+try?"
+
+Dino, addressed as Jack for the edification of the waiter, rose, and
+with Hugo's help staggered a few steps. Hugo was somewhat disconcerted.
+He had not counted upon Dino's small experience of intoxicating liquors
+when he prepared that beverage for him beforehand. He had meant Dino to
+be wild and noisy: and, behold, he presented all the appearance of a man
+who was dead drunk, and could hardly walk or stand.
+
+They managed to get him downstairs, and there, revived by the fresh air,
+he seemed able to walk to the lodgings which, as Hugo said, were close
+at hand. The landlord and the waiters laughed to each other when the two
+gentlemen were out of sight. "He must have taken a good deal to make him
+like that," said one of them. "The other was sober enough. Who were
+they?" The landlord shook his head. "Never saw either of them before
+yesterday," he said. "They paid, at any rate: I wish all my customers
+did as much." And he went back to the little parlour which he had
+quitted for a few moments in order to observe the departure of the
+gentleman who had got so drunk upon a flask of heady Italian wine.
+
+Meanwhile, Hugo was leading his victim through a labyrinth of dark
+streets and lanes. Dino was hard to conduct in this manner; he leaned
+heavily upon his guide, he staggered at times, and nearly fell. The
+night was dark and foggy; more than once Hugo almost lost his bearings
+and turned in a wrong direction. But he had a reason for all the devious
+windings and turnings which he took; he was afraid of being spied upon,
+followed, tracked. It was not until he came at last to a dark lane,
+between rows of warehouses, where not a light twinkled in the rooms, nor
+a solitary pedestrian loitered about the pavement, that he seemed
+inclined to pause. "This is the place," he said to himself, tightening
+his grasp upon the young man's arm. "This is the place I chose."
+
+He led Dino down the lane, looking carefully about him until he came to
+a narrow archway on his left hand. This archway opened on a flagged
+passage, at the end of which a flight of steps led up to one of the
+empty warehouses. It was a lonely, deserted spot.
+
+He dragged his companion into this entry; the steps of the two men
+echoed upon the flags for a little way, and then were still. There was
+the sound of a fall, a groan, then silence. And after five minutes of
+that silence, Hugo Luttrell crept slowly back to the lane, and stood
+there alone. He cast one fearful glance around him: nobody was in sight,
+nobody seemed to have heard the sounds that he had heard. With a quick
+step and resolute mien he plunged again into the network of little
+streets, reached a crowded thoroughfare at last, and took a cab for the
+Strand. He had a ticket for a theatre in his pocket. He went to the
+theatre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+BRIAN'S WELCOME.
+
+
+The hint given in the Prior's letter concerning Brian's reasons for
+continuing to teach in the Heron family, together with Hugo's own
+quickness of perception, had enabled that astute young man to hit upon
+something very like the exact truth. He had exaggerated it in his
+conversation with Dino: he had attributed motives to Brian which
+certainly never entered Brian's mind; but this was done for his own
+purposes. He thought that Brian's love for Elizabeth Murray might prove
+a useful weapon in the struggle between Dino's sense of his rights and
+the romantic affection that he entertained for the man who had taken his
+place in the world--an affection which Hugo understood so little and
+despised so much, that he fancied himself sure of an easy victory over
+Dino's resolution to fight for his rightful position. It was greatly to
+his surprise that he found so keen a sense of justice and resentment at
+the little trust that Brian had reposed in him present in Dino's mind:
+the young man had been irritatingly firm in his determination to possess
+the Strathleckie estate; he knew precisely what he wanted, and what he
+meant to do. And although he was inclined to be generous to Brian and to
+Miss Murray, there seemed no reason to expect that he would be equally
+generous to Hugo. Therefore Hugo had felt himself obliged to use what he
+called "strong measures."
+
+He did not like strong measures. They were disagreeable to him. But they
+were less disagreeable than the thought of being poor. Hugo made little
+account of human life and human suffering so long as the suffering did
+not actually touch himself. He seemed to be born with as little heart as
+a beast of prey, which strikes when it is angry, or when it wants food,
+with no remorse and no regret. "A disagreeable necessity," Hugo called
+his evil deed, but he considered that the law of self-preservation
+justified him in what he did.
+
+And Brian Luttrell? What reason was it that made him fling prudence to
+the winds, and follow the Herons to the neighbourhood of a place where
+he had resolved never to show his face again?
+
+There was one great, overmastering reason--so great that it made him
+attempt what was well-nigh impossible. His love for Elizabeth Murray had
+taken full possession of him: he dreamed of her, he worshipped the very
+ground she trod upon; he would have sacrificed life itself for the
+chance of a gentle word from her.
+
+Life, but not honour. Much as he loved her, he would have fled to the
+very ends of the earth if he had known, if he had for one moment
+suspected, that she was the Miss Murray who owned the landed estate
+which once went with the house and grounds of Netherglen.
+
+It seemed almost incredible that he should not have had this fact forced
+from the first upon his knowledge; but such at present was the case.
+They had remained in Italy for the first three months of his engagement,
+and, during that time, he had not lived in the Villa Venturi, but simply
+given his lessons and taken his departure. Sometimes he breakfasted or
+lunched with the family party, but at such times no business affairs
+were discussed. And Elizabeth had made it a special request that Mr.
+Stretton should not be informed of the fact that it was she who
+furnished money for the expenses of the household. She had taken care
+that his salary should be as large as she could make it without
+attracting remark, but she had an impression that Mr. Stretton would
+rather be paid by Mr. Heron than by her. And, as she wished for silence
+on the subject of her lately-inherited wealth, and as the Herons were of
+that peculiarly happy-go-lucky disposition that did not consider the
+possession of wealth a very important circumstance, Mr. Stretton passed
+the time of his sojourn in Italy in utter ignorance of the fact that
+Elizabeth was the provider of villa, gardens, servants, and most of the
+other luxuries with which the Herons were well supplied. Percival, in
+his outspoken dislike of the arrangement, would probably have
+enlightened him if they had been on friendly terms; but Percival showed
+so decided and unmistakable an aversion to the tutor, that he scarcely
+spoke to him during his stay, and, indeed, made his visit a short one,
+chiefly on account of Mr. Stretton's presence.
+
+The change from Italy to Scotland was made at the doctor's suggestion.
+The children's health flagged a little in the heat, and it was thought
+better that they should try a more bracing air. When the matter was
+decided, and Mr. Colquhoun had written to them that Strathleckie was
+vacant, and would be a convenient house for Miss Murray's purposes in
+all respects--then, and not till then, was Mr. Stretton informed of the
+proposed change of residence, and asked whether he would accompany the
+family to Scotland.
+
+Brian hesitated. He knew well enough the exact locality of the house to
+which they were going: he had visited it himself in other days. But it
+was several miles from Netherglen: he would be allowed, he knew, to
+absent himself from the drawing-room or the dinner-table whenever he
+chose, he need not come in contact with the people whom he used to know.
+Besides, he was changed beyond recognition. And probably the two women
+at Netherglen led so retired a life that neither of them was likely to
+be encountered--not even at church; for, although the tenants of
+Netherglen and Strathleckie went to the same town for divine worship on
+Sunday mornings, yet Mrs. Luttrell and Angela attended the Established
+Church, while the Herons were certain to go to the Episcopal. And Hugo
+was away. There was really small chance of his being seen or recognised.
+He thought that he should be safe. And, while he still hesitated, he
+looked up and saw that the eyes of Miss Murray were bent upon him with
+so kindly an inquiry, so gracious a friendliness in their blue depths,
+that his fears and doubts suddenly took wing, and he thought of nothing
+but that he should still be with her.
+
+He consented. And then, for the first time, it crossed his mind to
+wonder whether she was a connection of the Murrays to whom his estate
+had passed, and from whom he believed that Mr. Heron was renting the
+Strathleckie house.
+
+He had left England without ascertaining what members of the Murray
+family were living; and the letter in which Mr. Colquhoun detailed the
+facts of Elizabeth's existence and circumstances, had reached Geneva
+after his departure upon the expedition which was supposed to have
+resulted in his death. He had never heard of the Herons. He imagined
+Gordon Murray to be still living--probably with a large family and a
+wife. He knew that they could not live at Netherglen, and he wondered
+vaguely whether he should meet them in the neighbourhood to which he was
+going. Murray was such an ordinary name that in itself it told him
+nothing at all. Elizabeth Murray! Why, there might be a dozen Elizabeth
+Murrays within twenty miles of Netherglen: there was no reason at all to
+suppose that this Elizabeth Murray was a connection of the Gordon
+Murrays who were cousins of his own--no, not of his own: he had
+forgotten that never more could he claim that relationship for himself.
+They were cousins of some unknown Brian Luttrell, brought up under a
+false name in a small Italian village. What had become of that true
+Brian, whom he had refused to meet at San Stefano? And had Father
+Cristoforo succeeded in finding the woman whom he sought, and supplying
+the missing links in the evidence? In that case, the Murrays would soon
+hear of the claimant to their estate, and there would be a law-suit.
+Brian began to feel interested in the matter again. He had lost all care
+for it in the period following upon his illness. He now foresaw, with
+something almost like pleasure, that he could easily obtain information
+about the Murrays if he went with the Herons to Strathleckie. And he
+should certainly take the first opportunity of making inquiries. Even if
+he himself were no Luttrell, there was no reason why he should not take
+the deepest interest in the Luttrells of Netherglen. He wanted
+particularly to know whether the Italian claimant had come forward.
+
+He was perfectly ignorant of the fact of which Father Cristoforo's
+letter would have informed him, that this possible Italian claimant was
+no other than his friend, Dino Vasari.
+
+Of course, he could not be long at Strathleckie without finding out the
+truth about Elizabeth. If he had lived much with the Herons, he would
+have found it out in the course of the first twenty-four hours.
+Elizabeth's property was naturally referred to by name: the visitors who
+came to the house called upon her rather than upon the Herons: it was
+quite impossible that the secrecy upon which Elizabeth had insisted in
+Italy could be maintained in Scotland. The only wonder was that he
+should live, as he did live, for five whole days at Strathleckie without
+discovering the truth. Perhaps Elizabeth took pains to keep it from him!
+
+She had been determined to keep another secret, even if she could not
+hide the fact, that she was a rich woman. She would not have her
+engagement to Percival made public. For two whole years, she said, she
+would wait: for two whole years neither she nor her cousin should
+consider each other as bound. But that she herself considered the
+engagement morally binding might be inferred from the fact of her
+allowing Percival to kiss her--she surely would not have permitted that
+kiss if she had not meant to marry him! So Percival himself understood
+it; so Elizabeth knew that he understood.
+
+She was not quite like herself in the first days of her residence in
+Scotland. She was graver and more reticent than usual: little inclined
+to talk, and much occupied with the business that her new position
+entailed upon her. Mr. Colquhoun, her solicitor, was astonished at her
+clear-headedness; Stewart, the factor, was amazed at the attention she
+bestowed upon every detail; even the Herons were surprised at the
+methodical way in which she parcelled out her days and devoted herself
+to a full understanding of her position. She seemed to shrink less than
+heretofore from the responsibilities that wealth would bring her, and
+perhaps the added seriousness of her lip and brow was due to her resolve
+to bear the burden that providence meant her to bear instead of trying
+to lay it upon other people's shoulders.
+
+A great deal of this necessary business had been transacted before Mr.
+Stretton made his appearance at Strathleckie. He had been offered a
+fortnight's holiday, and had accepted it, seeing that his absence was to
+some extent desired by Mrs. Heron, who was always afraid lest her dear
+children should be overworked by their tutor. Thus it happened that he
+did not reach Strathleckie until the very day on which Hugo also arrived
+on his way to Netherglen. They had seen each other at the station, where
+Brian incautiously appeared without the blue spectacles which he relied
+upon as part of his disguise. From the white, startled horror which
+overcast Hugo's face, this young man saw that he had been almost, if not
+quite, recognised; and he expected to be sought out and questioned as to
+his identity. But Hugo made no effort to question him: in fact, he did
+not see the tutor again until the day when he came to restore a fragment
+of the letter which Brian had carelessly dropped in the road before he
+read it. During this interview he betrayed no suspicion, and Brian
+comforted himself with the thought that Hugo had, at any rate, not read
+the sheet that he returned to him.
+
+A dog-cart was sent for him and his luggage on the day of his arrival.
+He had a five miles' drive before he reached Strathleckie, where he
+received a tumultuous welcome from the boys, a smiling one from Mrs.
+Heron and Kitty, a hearty shake of the hands from Mr. Heron. But where
+was Elizabeth? He did not dare to ask.
+
+She was out, he learnt afterwards: she had driven over to the town to
+lunch with the Colquhouns. For a moment he did think this strange; then
+he put aside the thought and remembered it no more.
+
+There was a long afternoon to be dragged through: then there was a
+school-room tea, nominally at six, really not until nearly seven,
+according to the lax and unpunctual fashion of the Heron family. Mr.
+Stretton had heard that there were to be guests at dinner, and, keeping
+up his character as a shy man, declined to be present. He was sitting in
+a great arm-chair by the cheerful, little fire, which was very
+acceptable even on an August evening: the clock on the mantelpiece had
+just chimed a quarter-past seven, and he was beginning to wonder where
+the boys could possibly be, when the door opened and Elizabeth came in.
+He rose to his feet.
+
+"They told me that you had come," she said, extending her hand to him
+with quiet friendliness. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mr.
+Stretton."
+
+"Very pleasant, thank you."
+
+He could not say more: he was engaged in devouring with his eyes every
+feature of her fair face, and thinking in his heart that he had
+underrated the power of her beauty. In the fortnight that he had been
+away from her he had pictured her to himself as not half so fair. She
+had taken off her out-door things, and was dressed in a very plain,
+brown gown, which fitted closely to her figure. At her throat she wore a
+little bunch of sweet autumn violets, with one little green leaf,
+fastened into her dress by a gold brooch. It was the very ostentation of
+simplicity, yet, with that noble carriage of her head and shoulders, and
+those massive coils of golden-brown hair, nobody could have failed to
+remark the distinction of her appearance, nor to recognise the fact that
+there is a kind of beauty which needs no ornament.
+
+Brian took off the ugly, blue spectacles which he had adopted of late,
+and laid them upon the mantelshelf. He did not need them in the
+flickering firelight, which alone illumined the dimness of the room.
+
+Elizabeth laid her shapely arm upon the mantelpiece and looked into the
+fire. He stood beside her, looking down at her--for he was a little
+taller than herself--but she seemed unconscious of his gaze. She spoke
+presently in rather low tones.
+
+"The boys are late. I hope they do not often keep you waiting in this
+way."
+
+"They have never done it before. I do not mind."
+
+"They were very anxious to have you back. They missed you very much."
+
+Had she missed him, too? He could not venture to ask that question.
+
+"You will find things changed," she went on, restlessly lifting a little
+vase upon the mantelpiece and setting it down again; "you will find us
+much busier than we used to be--much more absorbed in our own pursuits.
+Scotland is not like Italy."
+
+"No. I wish it were."
+
+"And I----" Her voice broke, as if some emotion troubled her; there came
+a swift, short sigh, and then she spoke more calmly. "I wish sometimes
+that one had no duties, no responsibilities; but life would not be worth
+having if one shirked them, after all."
+
+"There is a charm in life without them--at least, so far without them as
+that pleasant life in Italy used to be," said he, rather eagerly.
+
+"Yes, but that is all over."
+
+"All over?"
+
+She bowed her head.
+
+"Is there nothing left?" said Brian, approaching her a little more
+nearly. Then, as she was silent, he continued in a hurried, low voice,
+"I knew that life must be different here, but I thought that some of the
+pleasantest hours might be repeated--even in Scotland--although we are
+without those sunny skies and groves of orange trees. Even if the clouds
+are grey, and the winds howl without, we might still read Dante's
+'Paradiso' and Petrarca's 'Sonnets,' as we used to do at the Villa
+Venturi."
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, gently, "we might. But here I shall not have
+time."
+
+"Why not? Why should you sacrifice yourself for others in the way you
+do? It is not right."
+
+"I--sacrifice myself?" she said, lifting her eyes for a moment to his
+face. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean," he said, "that I have watched you for the last three months,
+and I have seen you day after day give up your own pleasure and your own
+profit for others, until I longed to ask them what right they had to
+claim your whole life and leave you nothing--nothing--for yourself----"
+
+"You mistake," she interrupted him quickly. "They leave me all I want;
+and they were kind to me when I came amongst them--a penniless
+child----"
+
+"What does it matter if you were penniless?" said Brian. "Have you not
+paid them a thousand times for all that they did for you?" Then, as she
+looked at him with rather a singular expression in her eyes, he hastened
+to explain. "I mean that you have given them your love, your care, your
+time, in a way that no sister, no daughter, ever could have done! You
+have taught the children all they know; you have sympathised with the
+cares of every one in turn--I have watched you and seen it day by day!
+And I say that even if you are penniless, as you say, you have repaid
+them a thousand times for all that they have done; and that you are
+wrong to let them take your time and your care, to the exclusion of your
+own interests. I beg your pardon; I have said too much," he said,
+breaking off suddenly, as the singular expression deepened upon her
+musing face.
+
+"No," she said, with a smile, "I like to hear it: go on. What ought I to
+do?"
+
+"Ah, that I cannot tell you. But I think you give yourself almost too
+much to others. Surely, no one could object if you took a little time
+from the interests of the rest of the family for your own pleasure, for
+your studies, your amusements?"
+
+"No," she answered, quietly, "I do not suppose they would."
+
+She stood and looked into the fire, and the smile again crossed her
+face.
+
+"I have said more than I ought to have done," repeated Brian. "Forgive
+me."
+
+"I will forgive you for everything," she said, "except for thinking that
+one can do too much for the people that one loves. I am sure that you do
+not act upon that principle, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"It can be carried to an extreme, like any other," said Mr. Stretton,
+wisely.
+
+"And you think I carry it to an extreme? Oh, no. I only do what it is a
+pleasure to me to do. Think of the situation: an orphaned, penniless
+girl--that is what you have said to yourself is it not----?"
+
+"Yes," said Brian, wondering a little at the keen inquiry in her eyes as
+she paused for the reply. The questioning look was lost in a lovely
+smile as she proceeded; she cast down her eyes to hide the expression of
+pleasure and amusement that his words had caused.
+
+"An orphaned, penniless girl, then, cast on the charity of friends who
+were then not very well able to support her, educated by them, loved by
+them--does she not owe them a great debt, Mr. Stretton? What would have
+become of me without my uncle's care? And, now that I am able to repay
+them a little--in various ways"--she hesitated as she spoke--"ought I
+not to do my best to please them? Ought I not to give them as much of
+myself as they want? Make a generous answer, and tell me that I am
+right."
+
+"You are always right--too right!" he said, half-impatiently. "If you
+could be a little less generous----"
+
+"What then?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Why, then, you would be--more human, perhaps, more like ourselves--but
+less than what we have always taken you for," said Mr. Stretton,
+smiling.
+
+Elizabeth laughed. "You have spoilt the effect of your lecture," she
+said, turning away.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I ought not to have said what I did," said Brian,
+sensitively alive to her slightest change of tone. "Miss Murray, tell me
+at least that I have not offended you before you go."
+
+"You have not offended me," she said. He could not see her face.
+
+"You are quite sure?" he said, anxiously. "For, indeed, I had forgotten
+that it was not my part to offer any opinion upon your conduct, and I am
+afraid that I have given it with impertinent bluntness. You will forgive
+me?"
+
+She turned round and looked at him with a smile. There was a colour in
+her cheek, a softness in her eye, that he did not often see. "Indeed,
+Mr. Stretton," she said, gently, "I have nothing to forgive. I am very
+much obliged to you."
+
+He took a step towards her as if there was something else that he would
+have gladly said; but at that moment the sound of the boys' voices
+echoed through the hall.
+
+"There is no time for more," said Brian, with some annoyance.
+
+"No," she answered. "And yet I have something else to say to you. Will
+you remember that some other day?"
+
+"Indeed, I shall remember," he said, fervently. And then the boys burst
+into the room, and in the hubbub of their arrival Elizabeth escaped.
+
+Her violets had fallen out of her brooch. Brian found them upon the
+floor when she had gone; henceforth he kept them amongst his treasures.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE WISHING WELL.
+
+
+Hugo's first call at Strathleckie was made on the day following Mr.
+Stretton's arrival. Father Cristoforo's letter had been delivered by
+that morning's post, and it was during a stroll, in which, to tell the
+truth, Brian was more absorbed by the thought of Elizabeth than by any
+remembrance of his own position or of the Prior's views, that he dropped
+the letter of which the contents had so important a bearing on his
+future life. In justice to Brian, it must be urged that he had no idea
+that the Prior's letter was likely to be of any importance. Ever since
+he left San Stefano, the Prior had corresponded with him; but his
+letters were generally on very trivial subjects, or filled with advice
+upon moral and doctrinal points, which Brian could not find interesting.
+The severe animadversions upon his folly in returning to Scotland under
+an assumed name, which filled the first sheet, did not rouse in him any
+lively desire to read the rest of the letter. It was not likely to
+contain anything that he ought to know; and, at any rate, he could
+explain the loss and apologise for it in his next note to Padre
+Cristoforo.
+
+The meeting between him and Elizabeth in the garden, which had been such
+a revelation to Hugo's mind, was purely accidental and led to no great
+result. She had been begged by the children to ask Mr. Stretton for a
+holiday. They wanted to go to a Wishing Well in the neighbourhood, and
+to have a picnic in honour of Kitty's birthday. Mr. Stretton was sure
+not to refuse them they said--if Elizabeth asked. And Mr. Stretton did
+not refuse.
+
+His love for Elizabeth--that love which had sprung into being almost as
+soon as he beheld her, and which had grown with every hour spent in her
+company--was one of those deep and overmastering passions which a man
+can feel but once in a lifetime, and which many men never feel at all.
+If Brian had lived his life in London and at Netherglen with no great
+shock, no terrible grief, no overthrow of all his hopes, he might not
+have experienced this glow and thrill of passionate emotion; he might
+have walked quietly into love, made a suitable marriage, and remained
+ignorant to his life's end of the capabilities for emotion which existed
+within him. But, as often happens immediately after the occurrence of a
+great sorrow or recovery from a serious illness, his whole being seemed
+to undergo a change. When the strain of anxiety and prolonged anguish of
+mind was relaxed, the claims of youth re-asserted themselves. With
+returning health and strength there came an almost passionate
+determination to enjoy as much as remained to be enjoyed in life. The
+sunshine, the wind, the sea, the common objects of Nature,
+
+    "To him were opening Paradise."
+
+And when, for the first time, Love also entered into his life, the world
+seemed to be transfigured. Although he had suffered much and lost much,
+he found it possible to dream of a future in which he might make for
+himself a home, and know once more the meaning of happiness. Was he
+selfish in hoping that life still contained a true joy for him, in spite
+of the sorrows that fate had heaped upon his head, as if she meant to
+overwhelm him altogether? At least, the hope was a natural one, and
+showed courage and resolution. He clung to it desperately, fiercely; he
+felt that after all he had lost he could not bear to let it go. The hope
+was too sweet--the chance of happiness too beautiful--to be lost. He
+felt as if he had a right to this one blessing. He had lost all beside.
+But, perhaps, this was a presumptuous mood, destined to rebuke and
+disappointment.
+
+The fourth day after his arrival dawned, and he had not yet perceived,
+in his blindness of heart, the difference of position between the
+Elizabeth of his dreams and the Elizabeth of reality. Could the crisis
+be averted very much longer?
+
+He fancied that Elizabeth was colder to him after that little scene in
+the study than she had ever been before. She looked pale and dispirited,
+and seemed to avoid speaking to him or meeting his eye. At
+breakfast-time that morning he noticed that she allowed a letter that
+had been brought to her to lie unopened beside her plate "It's from
+Percival, isn't it?" said Kitty, thoughtlessly. "You don't seem to be
+very anxious to read it." Elizabeth made no answer, but the colour rose
+to her cheek and then spread to the very roots of her golden-brown hair.
+Brian noticed the blush, and for the first time felt his heart contract
+with a bitter pang of jealousy. What right had Percival Heron to write
+letters to Elizabeth? Why did she blush when she was asked a question
+about a letter from him?
+
+The whole party set off soon after ten o'clock for an expedition to a
+little loch amongst the hills. They intended to lunch beside the loch,
+then to enjoy themselves in different ways: Mr. Heron meant to sketch;
+Mrs. Heron took a novel to read; the others proposed to visit a spring
+at some little distance known as "The Wishing Well." This programme was
+satisfactorily carried out; but it chanced that Kitty and the boys
+reached the well before the others, and then wandered away to reach a
+further height, so that Brian and Elizabeth found themselves alone
+together beside the Wishing Well.
+
+It was a lonely spot from which nothing but stretches of barren moor and
+rugged hills could be discerned. One solitary patch of verdure marked
+the place where the rising spring had fertilised the land; but around
+this patch of green the ground was rich only in purple heather. Not even
+a hardy pine or fir tree broke the monotony of the horizon. Yet, the
+scene was not without its charm. There was grandeur in the sweep of the
+mountain-lines; there was a wonderful stillness in the sunny air, broken
+only by the buzz of a wandering bee and the trickle of the stream; there
+was the great arch of blue above the moor, and the magical tints of
+purple and red that blossoming heather always brings out upon the
+mountain-sides. The bareness of the land was forgotten in its wealth of
+colouring; and perhaps Brian and Elizabeth were not wrong when they said
+to each other that Italy had never shown them a scene that was half so
+fair.
+
+The water of the spring fell into a carved stone basin, which, tradition
+said, had once been the font of an old Roman Catholic chapel, of which
+only a few scattered stones remained. People from the surrounding
+districts still believed in the efficacy of its waters for the cure of
+certain diseases; and the practice of "wishing," which gave the well its
+name, was resorted to in sober earnest by many a village boy and girl.
+Elizabeth and Brian, who had hitherto behaved in a curiously grave and
+reserved manner to each other, laughed a little as they stood beside the
+spring and spoke of the superstition.
+
+"We must try it," said Elizabeth, looking down into the sparkling water.
+"A crooked pin must be thrown in, and then we must silently wish for
+anything we especially desire, and, of course, we shall obtain it."
+
+"Quite worth trying, if that is the case," said Brian. "But--I have
+tried the experiment before."
+
+"Here?"
+
+"Yes, here."
+
+"I did not know that you had been to Dunmuir before."
+
+"My wish did not come to pass," remarked Brian; "but there is no reason
+why you should not be more successful than I was, Miss Murray. And I
+feel a certain sort of desire to try once again."
+
+"Here is a crooked pin," said Elizabeth. "Drop it into the water."
+
+"Are you going to try?" he asked, when the ceremony had been performed.
+
+"There is nothing that I wish for very greatly."
+
+"Nothing? Ah, I have one wish--only one."
+
+"I am unfortunate in that I have none," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Then give me the benefit of your wishes. Wish that my wish may be
+fulfilled," said Brian.
+
+She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, and threw a crooked pin into
+the water.
+
+"I have wished," she said, as she watched it sink, "but I must not say
+what I wish: that breaks the charm."
+
+"Sit down and rest," said Brian, persuasively, as she turned away.
+"There is a little shade here; and the others will no doubt join us
+by-and-bye. You must be tired."
+
+"I am not tired, but I will sit down for a little while," said
+Elizabeth.
+
+She seated herself on a stone beside the well; and Brian also sat down,
+but rather below her, so that he seemed to be sitting at her feet, and
+could look up into her face when he spoke. He kept silence at first, but
+said at last, with gentle deference of tone:--
+
+"Miss Murray, there was something that you said you would tell me when
+you had the opportunity."
+
+She paused before she answered.
+
+"Not just now," he understood her to say at last, but her words were low
+and indistinct.
+
+"Then--may I tell you something?"
+
+She spoke more clearly in reply.
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Forgive me for saying so, but you must hear it some time. Why not now?"
+
+She did not speak. Her colour varied a little, and her brows contracted
+with a slight look of pain.
+
+"I do not know how to be silent any longer," he said, raising his eyes
+to her face, with a grave and manly resolve in their brown depths. "I
+have thought a great deal about it--about you; and it seems to me that
+there is no real reason why I should not speak. You are of age; you can
+do as you please; and I could work for both--because--Elizabeth--I love
+you."
+
+It was brokenly, awkwardly said, after all; but more completely uttered,
+perhaps, than if he had told his tale at greater length, for then he
+would have been stopped before he reached the end. As it was,
+Elizabeth's look of terror and dismay brought him to a sudden pause.
+
+"Oh, no!" she said, "no; you don't mean that. Take back what you have
+said, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"I cannot take it back," he said, quickly, "and I would not if I could;
+because you love me, too."
+
+The conviction of his words made her turn pale. She darted a distressed
+look at him, half-rose from her seat, and then sat down again. Twice she
+tried to speak and failed, for her tongue clove to the roof of her
+mouth. But at last she found her voice.
+
+"You do not know," she said, hurriedly and hoarsely, "that I am engaged
+to my cousin Percival."
+
+He rose to his feet, and withdrew two or three paces, looking down on
+her in silent consternation. She did not lift her eyes, but she felt
+that his gaze was upon her. It seemed to pierce to the very marrow of
+her bones, to the bottom of her heart.
+
+"Is this true?" he said at last, in a voice as changed as her own had
+been--hoarse and broken almost beyond recognition. "And you never told
+me?"
+
+"Why should I have told you? Only my uncle knows. It was a secret," she
+answered, in a clearer and colder tone. "I am sorry you did not know."
+
+"So am I. God knows that I am sorry," said the young man, turning away
+to hide the look of bitter despair and disappointment, which he could
+not help but feel was too visibly imprinted on his face. "For if I had
+known, I might never have dared to love you. If I had known, I should
+never have dreamt of you as my wife."
+
+At the sound of these two words, a shiver ran through her frame, as if a
+cold wind had blown over her from the mountain-heights above. She did
+not speak, however, and Brian went on in the low, difficult voice which
+told the intensity of his feelings more clearly than his words.
+
+"I have been blind--mad, perhaps--but I thought that there was a hope
+for me. I fancied that you cared for me a little, that you guessed what
+I felt--that you, perhaps, felt it also. Oh, you need not tell me that I
+have been presumptuous. I see it now. But it was my one hope in life--I
+had nothing left; and I loved you."
+
+His voice sank; he still stood with his face averted; a bitter silence
+fell upon him. For the moment he thought of the many losses and sorrows
+that he had experienced, and it seemed to him that this was the
+bitterest one of all. Elizabeth sat like a statue; her face was pale,
+her under-lip bitten, her hands tightly clasped together. At the end of
+some minutes' silence she roused herself to speak. There was an accent
+of hurt pride in her voice, but there was a tremor, too.
+
+"I gave you no reason to think so, Mr. Stretton," she said.
+
+"No," he answered, still without turning round. "I see now; I made a
+mistake."
+
+"That you should ever have made the mistake," said Elizabeth, slowly,
+"seems to me----"
+
+She did not finish the sentence. She spoke so slowly that Brian found it
+easy to interrupt her. He turned and broke impetuously into the middle
+of her phrase.
+
+"It seems an insult--I understand. But I do not mean it as an insult. I
+mean it only as a tribute to your exquisite goodness, your sweetness,
+which would not let me pass upon my way without a word of kindly
+greeting--and yet what can I say, for I did not misunderstand that
+kindliness. I was not such a fool as to do that! No, I never really
+hoped; I never thought that you could for a moment look at me; believe
+me when I say that, even in my wildest dreams, I knew myself to be far,
+infinitely far, below you, utterly unworthy of your love, Elizabeth."
+
+"No, no," she murmured, "you must not say that."
+
+"But I do say it, and I mean it. I only ask to be forgiven for that wild
+dream--it lasted but for a moment, and there was nothing in it that
+could have offended even you, I think; nothing but the love itself. And
+I believe in a man's right to love the woman who is the best, the most
+beautiful, the noblest on earth for him, even if she were the Queen
+herself! If you think that I hoped where I ought to have despaired,
+forgive me; but don't say you forgive me for merely loving you; I had
+the right, to do that."
+
+She altered her attitude as he spoke. Her hands were now before her
+face, and he saw that the tears were trickling between her fingers. All
+the generosity of the man's nature was stirred at the sight.
+
+"I am very sorry that I have distressed you," he said. "I am sorry that
+I spoke so roughly--so hastily--at first. Trust me when I say that I
+will not offend in the same way again."
+
+She lifted her face a little, and tried to wipe away her tears. "I am
+not offended, Mr. Stretton," she said. "You mistake me--I am only
+sorry--deeply sorry--that I--if I--have misled you in any way."
+
+"Oh, you did not mislead me, Miss Murray," replied Brian, gently; "it
+was my own folly that was to blame. But since I have spoken, may I say
+something more? I should like, if possible, to justify myself a little
+in your eyes."
+
+She bowed her head. "Will you not sit down?" she said, softly. "Say what
+you like; or, at least, what you think best."
+
+He did not sit down exactly, but he came back to the stone on which he
+had been sitting at her feet, and dropped on one knee upon it.
+
+"Let me speak to you in this way, as a culprit should speak," he said,
+with a faint smile which had in it a gleam of some slightly ironical
+feeling, "and then you can pardon or condemn me as you choose."
+
+"If you feel like a culprit you condemn yourself," said Elizabeth,
+lifting her eyes to his.
+
+"I do not feel like a culprit, Miss Murray. I have, as I said before, a
+perfect right to love you if I choose----" Elizabeth's eyes fell, and
+the colour stole into her cheeks--"I would maintain that right against
+all the world. But I want you to be merciful: I want you to listen for a
+little while----"
+
+"Not to anything that I ought not to hear, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"No: to nothing that would wrong Mr. Percival Heron even by a thought.
+Only--it is a selfish wish of mine; but I have been misjudged a good
+deal in my life, and I do not want you to misjudge me--I should like you
+to understand how it was that I dared--yes, I dared--to love you. May I
+speak?"
+
+"I don't know whether I ought to listen. I think I ought to go," said
+Elizabeth, with an irrepressible little sob. "No, do not speak--I cannot
+bear it."
+
+"But in justice to me you ought to listen," said Brian, gently, and yet
+firmly. He laid one hand upon hers, and prevented her from rising. "A
+few words only," he said, in pleading tones. "Forgive me if I say I must
+go on. Forgive me if I say you must listen. It is for the last--and the
+only--time."
+
+With a great sigh she sank back upon the stone seat from which she had
+tried to rise. Brian still held her hand. She did not draw it away. The
+lines of her face were all soft and relaxed; her usual clearness of
+purpose had deserted her. She did not know what to do.
+
+"If you had loved me, Elizabeth--let me call you Elizabeth just for
+once; I will not ask to do it again--or if you had even been free--I
+would have told you my whole history from beginning to end, and let you
+judge how far I was justified in taking another name and living the life
+I do. But I won't lay that burden upon you now. It would not be fair. I
+think that you would have agreed with me--but it is not worth while to
+tell you now."
+
+"I am sure that you would not have acted as you did without a good and
+honourable motive," said Elizabeth, trembling, though she did not know
+why.
+
+"I acted more on impulse than on principle, I am afraid,", he answered.
+"I was in great trouble, and it seemed easier--but I saw no reason
+afterwards to change my decision. Elizabeth, my friends think me dead,
+and I want them to think so still. I had been accused of a crime which I
+did not commit--not publicly accused, but accused in my own home by
+one--one who ought to have known me better; and I had inadvertently--by
+pure accident, remember--brought great misery and sorrow upon my house.
+In all this--I could swear it to you, Elizabeth--I was not to blame. Can
+you believe my word?"
+
+"I can, I do."
+
+"God bless you for saying so, my love--the one love of my
+life--Elizabeth! Forgive me: I will not say it again. To add to my
+troubles, then, I found reason to believe that I had no right to the
+name I bore, that I was of a different family, a different race,
+altogether; that it would simplify the disposal of certain property if I
+were dead; and so--I died. I disappeared. I can never again take the
+name that once was mine."
+
+He said all this, but no suspicion of the truth crossed Elizabeth's
+mind. That she was the person who had benefited by his disappearance was
+as far from her thoughts as from Brian's at that moment. That he was the
+Brian Luttrell of whom she had so often heard, whose death in the Alps
+had seemed so certain that even the law courts had been satisfied that
+she might rightfully inherit his possessions, that he--John Stretton,
+the boys' tutor--could be this dead cousin of her's, was too incredible
+a thought ever to occur to her. She felt nothing but sorrow for his past
+troubles, and a conviction that he was perfectly in the right.
+
+"But you are deceiving your friends," she said.
+
+"For their good, as I firmly believe," answered Brian, sorrowfully. "If
+I went back to them, I should cause a great deal of confusion and
+distress: I should make my so-called heirs uncomfortable and unhappy,
+and, as far as I can see, I should have no right to the property that
+they would not consent to retain if I were living."
+
+"Yes--if I am dead, and if no one else appears to claim it. It is a
+complicated business, and one that would take some time to explain. Let
+it suffice that I was utterly hopeless, utterly miserable, when I cast
+away what had always seemed to me to be my birthright; that I was then
+for many months very ill; and that, when you met me in Italy, I was just
+winning my way back to health, and repose of mind and body. And then--do
+you remember how you looked and spoke to me? Of course, you do not know.
+You were good, and sweet, and kind: you stretched out your hand to aid a
+fallen man, for I was poorer and more friendless than you knew; and from
+the moment when you said you trusted me, as we sat together on the bench
+upon the cliffs my whole soul went out to you, Elizabeth, and I loved
+you as I never had loved before--as I never shall love again."
+
+"In time," she murmured, "you will learn to care for someone else, in
+time you will forget me."
+
+"Forget you! I can never forget you, Elizabeth. Your trust in me--an
+unknown, friendless man, your goodness to me, your sweet pity for me,
+will never be forgotten. Can you wonder if I loved you, and if I thought
+that my love must surely have betrayed itself? I fancied that you
+guessed it----"
+
+"No, no," she said, hurriedly. "I did not guess. I did not think. I only
+knew that you were a kind friend to me, and taught me and helped me in
+many ways. I have been often very lonely--I never had a friend."
+
+"Is Percival Heron, then, no friend to you?" he asked, with something of
+indignant sternness in his voice.
+
+"Ah, yes, he is a friend; but not--not--I cannot tell you what he
+is----"
+
+"But you love him?" cried Brian, the sternness changing to anguish, as
+the doubt first presented itself to him. "Elizabeth, do not tell me that
+you have promised yourself to a man that you do not love! I may be
+miserable; but do not let me think that you will be miserable, too."
+
+He caught both her hands in his and looked her steadily in the face. "I
+have heard them say that you never told a lie in all your life," he went
+on. "Speak the truth still, Elizabeth, and tell me whether you love
+Percival Heron as a woman should love a man! Tell me the truth."
+
+She shrank a little at first, and tried to take her hands away. But when
+she found that Brian's clasp was firm, she drew herself up and looked
+him in the face with eyes that were full of an unutterable sadness, but
+also of a resolution which nothing on earth could shake.
+
+"You have no right to ask me the question," she said; "and I have no
+right to give you any answer."
+
+But something in her troubled face told him what that answer would have
+been.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+"GOOD-BYE."
+
+
+"I see," he said, dropping her hands and turning away with a heavy sigh.
+"I was too late."
+
+"Don't misunderstand me," said Elizabeth, with an effort. "I shall be
+very happy. I owe a debt to my uncle and my cousins which scarcely
+anything can repay."
+
+"Give them anything but yourself" he said, gravely. "It is not right--I
+do not speak for myself now, but for you--it is not right to marry a man
+whom you do not love."
+
+"But I did not say that I do not love him," she cried, trying to shield
+herself behind this barrier of silence. "I said only that you had no
+right to ask the question."
+
+Brian looked at her and paused.
+
+"You are wrong," he said at last, but so gently that she could not take
+offence. "Surely one who cares for you as I do may know whether or not
+you love the man that you are going to marry. It is no unreasonable
+question, I think, Elizabeth. And if you do not love him, then again I
+say that you are wrong and that it is not like your brave and honest
+self to be silent."
+
+"I cannot help it," she said, faintly. "I must keep my word."
+
+"You are the best judge of that," he answered. But there was a little
+coldness in his tone.
+
+"Yes, I am the best judge," she went on more firmly. "I have promised;
+and I will not break the promise that I have made. I told you before how
+much I consider that I owe to them. Now that I have the chance of doing
+a thing that will benefit, not only Percival, but all of them--from a
+worldly point of view, I mean--I cannot bear to think of drawing back
+from what I said I would do."
+
+"How will it benefit them?"
+
+"In a very small way, no doubt," she said, looking aside, so that she
+might not see the mute protest of his face; "because worldly prosperity
+is a small thing after all; but if you had seen, as I have, what it was
+to my uncle to live in a poverty-stricken, sordid way, hampered with
+duns and debts, and Percival harassing himself with vain endeavours to
+set things straight, and the children feeling the sting of poverty more
+and more as they grew older--and then to know that one has the power in
+one's hands of remedying everything, without giving pain or hurting any
+one's pride, or----"
+
+"I am sorry," said Brian, as she hesitated for a word. "But I do not
+understand."
+
+"Why not!"
+
+"How can you set things straight? And how is it that things want setting
+straight? Mr. Heron is--surely--a rich man."
+
+She laughed; even in the midst of her agitation, she laughed a soft,
+pleasant, little laugh.
+
+"Oh, I forgot," she said, suddenly. "You do not know. I found out on the
+day you came that you did not know."
+
+"Did not know--what?"
+
+She raised her eyes to his face, and spoke with gravity, but great
+sweetness.
+
+"Nobody meant to deceive you," she said; "in fact, I scarcely know how
+it is that you have not learnt the truth--partly; I suppose, because in
+Italy I begged them not to tell anybody the true state of the case; but,
+really, my uncle is not rich at all. He is a poor man. And Percival is
+poor, too--very poor," she added, with a lingering sigh over the last
+two words.
+
+"Poor! But--how could a poor man travel in Italy, and rent the Villa
+Venturi, say nothing of Strathleckie?"
+
+"He did not rent it. They were my guests."
+
+"Your guests? And what are they now, then?"
+
+"My guests still."
+
+Brian rose to his feet.
+
+"Then you are a rich woman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is you, perhaps, who have paid me for teaching these boys?"
+
+"There is no disgrace in being paid for work that is worth doing and
+that is done well," said Elizabeth, flashing an indignant look at him.
+
+He bowed his head to the rebuke.
+
+"You are right, Miss Murray. But you will, I hope, do me the justice to
+see that I was perfectly ignorant of the state of affairs; that I was
+blind--foolishly blind----"
+
+"Not foolishly. You could not help it."
+
+"I might have seen. I might have known. I took you for----" And there
+Brian stopped, actually colouring at the thought of his mistake.
+
+"For the poor relation; the penniless cousin. But it was most natural
+that you should, and two years ago it would have been perfectly true. I
+have not been a rich woman for very many months, and I do not love my
+riches very much."
+
+"If I had known," began Brian; and then he burst out with a sudden
+change of tone. "Give them your riches, since they value them and you do
+not, and give yourself to me, Elizabeth. Surely your debt to them would
+then be paid."
+
+"What! by recompensing kindness with treachery?" she said, glancing at
+him mournfully. "No, that plan would not answer. The money is a small
+part of what I owe them. But I do sometimes wish that it had gone to
+anybody but me; especially when I remember the sad circumstances under
+which it became mine. When I think of poor Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen,
+I have never felt as if it were right to spend her sons' inheritance in
+what gave pleasure to myself alone."
+
+"Mrs. Luttrell of ---- But what have you to do with her?" said Brian,
+with a sudden fixity of feature and harshness of voice that alarmed
+Elizabeth. "Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen! Good Heaven! It is not
+you--you--who inherited that property? The Luttrell-Murrays----"
+
+"I am the only Luttrell-Murray living," said Elizabeth.
+
+He stared at her dumbly, as if he could not believe his ears.
+
+"And you have the Luttrell estate?" he said at last.
+
+"I have."
+
+"I am glad of it," he answered; and then he put his hand over his eyes
+for a second or two, as if to shut out the light of day. "Yes, I am very
+glad."
+
+"What do you mean, Mr. Stretton?" said Elizabeth, who was watching him
+intently. "Do you know anything of my family? Do you know anything of
+the Luttrells?"
+
+"I have met some of them," he answered, slowly. His face was paler than
+usual, and his eyes, after one hasty glance at her, fell to the ground.
+"It was a long time ago. I do not know them now."
+
+"You said you had been here before. You----"
+
+"Miss Murray, don't question me as to how I knew them. You cannot guess
+what a painful subject it is to me. I would rather not discuss it."
+
+"But, Mr. Stretton----"
+
+"Let me tell you something else," he said, hastily, as if anxious to
+change the subject. "Let me ask you--as you are the arbitress of my
+destiny, my employer, I may call you--when you will let me go. Could the
+boys do without me at once, do you think? You would soon find another
+tutor."
+
+"Mr. Stretton! Why should you go? Do you mean to leave us?" exclaimed
+Elizabeth. "Oh, surely it is not necessary to do that!"
+
+"Do you think it would be so easy for me, then, to take money from your
+hands after what has passed between us?"
+
+"Money is a small thing," said she.
+
+"Money! yes; but there are other things in the world beside money. And
+it is better that I should go away from you now. It is not for my peace
+to see you every day, and know that you are to marry Percival Heron.
+Cannot you guess what pain it is to me?"
+
+"But the children: you have no love for them, then. I thought that you
+did love our little Jack--and they are so fond of you."
+
+"Don't try to keep me," he said, hoarsely. "It is hard enough to say
+good-bye without having to refuse you anything. The one thing now for
+which I could almost thank God is that you never loved me, Elizabeth."
+
+She shivered, and drew a long, sobbing breath. Her face looked pale and
+cold: her voice did not sound like itself as she murmured--
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because--no, I can't tell you why. Think for yourself of a reason. It
+is not that I love you less; and yet--yet--not for the world would I
+marry you now that I know what I know."
+
+"You would not marry me because I am rich: that is it, is it not?" she
+asked him. "I knew that some men were proud; but I did not think that
+you would be so proud."
+
+"What does it signify? There is no chance of your marrying me; you are
+going to marry another man--whom you do not love; we may scarcely ever
+see each other again after to-day. It is better so."
+
+"If I were free," she said, slowly, "and if--if--I loved you, you would
+be doing wrong to leave me because--only because--I was a little richer
+than you. I do not think that that is your only motive. It is since you
+heard that I was one of the Luttrell-Murrays that you have spoken in
+this way."
+
+"What if it were? The fact remains," he said, gloomily. "You do not care
+for me; and I--I would give my very soul for you, Elizabeth. I had
+better go. Think of me kindly when I am away--that is all. I see Miss
+Heron and the boys on the brow of the hill signalling to us. Will you
+excuse me if I say good-bye to you now, and walk back towards
+Strathleckie?"
+
+"Must it be now?" she said, scarcely knowing what the words implied. She
+turned her face towards him with a look that he never forgot--a look of
+inexpressible regret, of yearning sweetness, of something only too like
+the love that he thought he had failed to win. It caused him to turn
+back and to lean over her with a half-whispered question--
+
+"Would it have been possible, Elizabeth, if we had met earlier, do you
+think that you ever could have loved me?"
+
+"Do you think you ought to ask me?"
+
+"Ah, give me one word of comfort before I go. Remember that I go for
+ever. It will do no one any harm. Could you have loved me, Elizabeth?"
+
+"I think I could," she murmured in so low a tone that he could hardly
+hear the words. He seized her hands and pressed them closely in his own;
+he could do no more, for the Herons were very near. "Good-bye, my love,
+my own darling!" were the last words she heard. They rang in her ears as
+if they had been as loud as a trumpet-call; she could hardly believe
+that they had not re-echoed far and wide across the moor. She felt giddy
+and sick. The last sight of his face was lost in a strange, momentary
+darkness. When she saw clearly again he was walking away from her with
+long, hasty strides, and her cousins were close at hand. She watched him
+eagerly, but he did not turn round. She knew instinctively that he had
+resolved that she should never see his face again.
+
+"What is the matter, Betty?" cried one of the children. "You look so
+white! And where is Mr. Stretton going? Mr. Stretton! Wait for us!"
+
+"Don't call Mr. Stretton," said Elizabeth, collecting her forces, and
+speaking as nearly as possible in her ordinary tone. "He wants to get
+back to Strathleckie as quickly as possible. I am rather tired and am
+resting."
+
+"You are not usually tired with so short a walk," said Kitty, glancing
+sharply at her cousin's pallid cheeks. "Are you not well?"
+
+"Yes, I am quite well," Elizabeth answered. "But I am very, very tired."
+
+And then she rose and made her way back to the loch-side, where Mr. and
+Mrs. Heron were still reposing. But her steps lagged, and her face did
+not recover its usual colour as she went home, for, as she had said, she
+was tired--strangely and unnaturally tired--and it was with a feeling of
+relief that she locked herself into her own room at Strathleckie, and
+gave way to the gathering tears which she had hitherto striven to
+restrain. She would willingly have stayed away from the dinner-table,
+but she was afraid of exciting remark. Her pale face and heavy eyelids
+excited remark as much as her absence would have done; but she did not
+think of that. Mr. Stretton, who usually dined with them, sent an excuse
+to Mrs. Heron. He had a headache, and preferred to remain in his own
+room.
+
+"It must have been the sun," said Mrs. Heron. "Elizabeth has a headache,
+too. Have you a headache, Kitty?"
+
+"Not at all, thank you," said Kitty.
+
+There was something peculiar in her tone, thought Elizabeth. Or was it
+only that her conscience was guilty, and that she was becoming apt to
+suspect hidden meanings in words and tones that used to be harmless and
+innocent enough? The idea was a degrading one to her mind. She hated the
+notion of having anything to conceal--anything, at least, beyond what
+was lawful and right. Her inheritance, her engagement to Percival, had
+been to some extent kept secret; but not, as she now said passionately
+to herself, not because she was ashamed of them. Now, indeed, she was
+ashamed of her secret, and there was nothing on earth from which she
+shrank so much as the thought of its being discovered.
+
+She went to bed early, but she could not sleep. The words that Brian had
+said to her, the answers that she had made to him, were rehearsed one
+after the other, turned over in her mind, commented on, and repeated
+again and again all through the night. She hardly knew the meaning of
+her own excitement of feeling, nor of the intense desire that possessed
+her to see him again and listen once more to his voice. She only knew
+that her brain was in a turmoil and that her heart seemed to be on fire.
+Sleep! She could not think of sleep. His face was before her, his voice
+was sounding in her ears, until the cock crew and the morning sunlight
+flooded all the room. And then for a little while, indeed, she slept,
+and dreamt of him.
+
+She awoke late and unrefreshed. She dressed leisurely, wondering
+somewhat at the vehemence of last night's emotion, but not mistress
+enough of herself to understand its danger. In that last moment of her
+interview with Brian she had given way far more than he knew. If he had
+understood and taken advantage of that moment of weakness, she would not
+have been able to refuse him anything. At a word she would have given up
+all for him--friends, home, riches, even her promise to Percival--and
+gone forth into the world with the man she loved, happier in her poverty
+than she had ever been in wealth. "Ask me no more, for at a touch I
+yield," was the silent cry of her inmost soul. But Brian had not
+understood. He did not dream that with Elizabeth, as with most women,
+the very weakest time is that which immediately follows the moment of
+greatest apparent strength. She had refused to listen to him at all--and
+after that refusal she was not strong, but weak in heart and will as a
+wearied child.
+
+Realising this, Elizabeth felt a sensation of relief and safety. She had
+escaped a great gulf--and yet--and yet--she had not reached that point
+of reasonableness and moderation at which she could be exactly glad that
+she had escaped.
+
+She made her way downstairs, and reached the dining-room to find that
+everyone but herself had breakfasted and gone out. She was too feverish
+to do more than swallow a cup of coffee and a little toast, and she had
+scarcely concluded her scanty meal before Mr. Heron entered the room
+with a disconcerted expression upon his face.
+
+"Do you know the reason of this freak of Stretton's, Elizabeth?" he
+asked almost immediately.
+
+"What do you mean, Uncle Alfred?"
+
+"I mean--has he taken a dislike to Strathleckie, or has anybody offended
+him? I can't understand it. Just when we were settling down so nicely,
+and found him such an excellent tutor for the boys! To run away after
+this fashion! It is too bad!"
+
+"Does Mr. Stretton think of leaving Strathleckie?" said Elizabeth, with
+her eyes bent steadfastly upon the table-cloth.
+
+"Think of leaving! My dear Lizzie, he has left! Gone: went this morning
+before any of us were down. Spoke to me last night about it; I tried to
+dissuade him, but his mind was quite made up."
+
+"What reason did he give?"
+
+"Well, he would not tell me the exact reason. I tried to find out, but
+he was as close as--as--wax," said Mr. Heron, trying to find a suitable
+simile. "He said he was much obliged to us all for our kindness to him;
+had no fault to find with anything or anybody; liked the place; but, all
+the same, he wanted to go, and go he must. I offered him double the
+salary--at least, I hinted as much: I knew you would not object, Lizzie
+dear, but it was no use. Partly family affairs; partly private reasons:
+that was all I could get out of him."
+
+Mr. Heron's long speech left Elizabeth the time to consider what to say.
+
+"It does not matter very much," she answered at length, indifferently:
+"we can find someone who will teach the boys quite as well, I have no
+doubt."
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Mr. Heron. "Well, perhaps so. But, you see, it
+is not always easy to get a tutor at this time of the year, Elizabeth;
+and, besides, we shall not find one, perhaps, so ready to read Italian
+with you, as Mr. Stretton used to do----"
+
+Oh, those Italian readings! How well she remembered them! How the
+interest which Mr. Stretton had from the first inspired in her had grown
+and strengthened in the hours that they spent together, with heads bent
+over the same page, and hearts throbbing in unison over the lines that
+spoke of Dante's Beatrice, or Petrarca's Laura! She shuddered at the
+remembrance, now fraught to her with keenest pain.
+
+"I shall not want to read Italian again," she said, rising from the
+table. "We had better advertise for a tutor, Uncle Alfred, unless you
+think the boys might run wild for a little while, or unless Percival can
+find us one."
+
+"Shall you be writing to Percival to-day, my dear?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Because you might mention that Mr. Stretton has left us. I am afraid
+that Percival will be glad," said Mr. Heron, with a little laugh; "he
+had an unaccountable dislike to poor Stretton."
+
+"Yes, Percival will be glad," said Elizabeth, turning mechanically to
+leave the room. At the door she paused. "Mr. Stretton left an address, I
+suppose?"
+
+"No, he did not. He said he would write to me when his plans were
+settled. And I'm sorry to say he would not take a cheque. I pressed it
+upon him, and finally left it on the table for him--where I found it
+again this morning. He said that he had no right to it, leaving as
+suddenly as he did--some crochet of that kind. I should think that
+Stretton could be very Quixotic if he chose."
+
+"When he writes," said Elizabeth, "you will send him the cheque, will
+you not, Uncle Alfred? I do not think that he is very well off; and it
+seems a pity that he should be in want of money for the sake of--of--a
+scruple."
+
+She did not wait for a reply, but closed the door behind her, and stood
+for a few moments in the hall, silently wondering what to do and where
+to go. Finally she put on her garden hat and went out into the grounds.
+She felt that she must be alone.
+
+A sort of numbness came over her. He had gone, without a word, without
+making any effort to see her again. His "Good-bye" had been spoken in
+solemn earnest. He had been stronger than Elizabeth; although in
+ordinary matters it might be thought that her nature was the stronger of
+the two. There was nothing, therefore, for her to say or do; she could
+not write to him, she could not call him back. If she could have done so
+she would. She had never known before what it was to hunger for the
+sight of a beloved face, to think of the words that she might have said,
+and long to say them. She did not as yet know by what name to call her
+misery. Only, little by little she woke up to the fact that it was what
+people meant when they spoke of love. Then she began to understand her
+position. She had promised to marry Percival Heron, but her heart was
+given to the penniless tutor who called himself John Stretton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+A COVENANT.
+
+
+Brian had no fixed notion of what he should do, but he thought it better
+to go to London, where he could more easily decide on his future
+movements. He was in no present difficulty, for the liberal salary which
+he had received from the Herons during the past few months was almost
+untouched, and although he had just now a morbid dislike to touching the
+money that had come to him through Elizabeth's generosity, he had the
+sense to see that he must make use of it, and turn it to the best
+possible account.
+
+In the course of his journey he bought a newspaper. His eyes fell almost
+immediately upon a paragraph which caused him some amazement.
+
+"Mysterious Case of Attempted Murder.--A young man of respectable
+appearance was discovered early this morning in a state of complete
+insensibility at the end of a passage leading out of Mill-street,
+Blackfriars. He was found to have received a severe wound, presumably
+with a knife, in the left side, and had lost a considerable amount of
+blood, but, although weak, was still living. His watch and purse had not
+been abstracted, a fact which points to the conclusion either that the
+wound was inflicted by a companion in a drunken brawl, or that the thief
+was disturbed in his operations before the completion of the work. The
+young man speaks a little English as well as Italian, but he has not yet
+been able to give a precise account of the assault committed upon him.
+It is thought that the police have a clue to the criminal. The name
+given in the gentleman's pocket-book is Vasari; and he has been removed
+to Guy's Hospital, where he is reported to be doing well."
+
+"Vasari! Dino Vasari! can it be he?" said Brian, throwing down his
+newspaper. "What brings him to London?"
+
+Then it occurred to him that Father Cristoforo's long letter might have
+contained information concerning Dino's visit to London: possibly he had
+been asked to do the young Italian some service, which, of course, he
+had been unable to render as he had not read the letter. He felt doubly
+vexed at his own carelessness as he thought of this possibility, and
+resolved to go to the hospital and see whether the man who had been
+wounded was Dino Vasari or not. And then he forgot all about the
+newspaper paragraph, and lost himself in sad reflections concerning the
+unexpected end of his connection with the Herons.
+
+Arrived in London, he found out a modest lodging, and began to arrange
+his plans for the future. A fit of restlessness seemed to have come upon
+him. He could not bear to think of staying any longer in England. He
+paid a visit next morning to an Emigration Agency Office, asking whether
+the agents could direct him to the best way of obtaining suitable work
+in the Colonies. He did not care where he went or what he did; his
+preference was for work in the open air, because he still at times felt
+the effect of that brain-fever which had so nearly ended his existence
+at San Stefano; but his physique was not exactly of the kind which was
+most suited to bush-clearing and sheep-farming. This he was told, and
+informed, moreover, that so large a number of clerks arrived yearly in
+Australia and America, that the market in that sort of labour was
+over-stocked, and that, if he was a clerk, he had a better chance in the
+Old World than in the New.
+
+"I am not a clerk; I have lately been a tutor," said Brian.
+
+References?
+
+He could refer them to his late employer.
+
+A degree? Oxford or Cambridge?
+
+And there the questions ceased to be answered satisfactorily. He could
+not tell them that he had been to Oxford, because he dared not refer
+them to the name under which he studied at Balliol. He hesitated,
+blundered a little--he certainly had never mastered the art of lying
+with ease and fluency--and created so unfavourable an impression in the
+mind of the emigration agent that that gentleman regarded him with
+suspicion from that moment, and apparently ceased to wish to afford him
+any aid.
+
+"I am very sorry," he said, politely, "but I don't think that we have
+anything that would suit you. There is a college at Dunedin where they
+want a junior master, but there, a man with a good degree
+and--hum--unimpeachable antecedents would be required. People out there
+are in want of men with a trade: not of clerks, nor of poor professional
+men."
+
+"Then I must go as a hodman or a breaker of stones," said Brian, "for I
+mean to go."
+
+"I don't think that that employment is one for which you are especially
+fitted, Mr. Smith," said the agent, with a slight smile. Brian had
+impatiently given the name of Smith in making his application, and the
+agent, who was a man of wide experience, did not believe that it was his
+own; "but, of course, if you like to try it, you can look at these
+papers about 'assisted passages.'"
+
+"Thank you, that is not necessary," answered Brian, rather curtly. "A
+steerage passage to Australia does not cost a fortune. If I go out as a
+labouring man I think I can manage it. But I am obliged to you for your
+kindness in answering my questions."
+
+He had resumed his usual manner, which had been somewhat ruffled by the
+tone taken by the agent, and now asked one or two practical questions
+respecting the fares, the lines of steamers, and matters of that kind;
+after which he bade the agent a courteous good-morning and went upon his
+way.
+
+He foresaw that the inevitable cloud hanging over his past story would
+prove a great obstacle to his obtaining employment in the way he
+desired. Any work requiring certificates or testimonials was utterly out
+of the question for him in England. In Australia or New Zealand things
+might be different. He had no great wish to go to America--he had once
+spent a summer holiday in the Eastern States, and did not fancy that
+they would be agreeable places of residence for him in his present
+circumstances, and he had no great desire to "go West;" besides, he had
+a wish to put as great a distance as possible between himself and
+England. As he walked away from the emigration office he made up his
+mind to take the first vessel that sailed for Sydney.
+
+He had nothing to do. He wanted to divert his mind from thoughts of
+Elizabeth. It flashed across his mind that he would go to the hospital
+and inquire after the man who had been stabbed, and who called himself
+Vasari.
+
+He made his request to see the patient, and was admitted with such
+readiness that he suspected the case to be a dangerous one. And, indeed,
+the house-surgeon acknowledged this to be so. The stab, he said, had
+gone wonderfully near the vital parts; a hair's-breadth deviation to the
+right or left, and Vasari would have been a dead man. It was still
+uncertain whether he would recover, and all agitation must be avoided,
+as he was not allowed either to move or speak.
+
+"I am not sure whether he is the young man I used to know or not," said
+Brian, doubtfully. "Vasari--was there a Christian name given as well?"
+
+"Yes: Bernardino, and in another place simply Dino. Was that the name of
+your friend?"
+
+"Yes, it was. If I saw him I should be sure. I don't suppose that my
+appearance would agitate him," said Brian, little suspecting the deep
+interest and importance which would attach to his visit in Dino's mind.
+
+"Come, then." And the surgeon led the way to the bed, hidden by a screen
+from the rest of the ward, where Dino lay.
+
+Brian passed with the nurse inside the screen, and looked pityingly at
+the patient.
+
+"Yes," he said, in a low tone, "it is the man I know."
+
+He thought that Dino was unconscious, but at the sound of his voice--low
+though it was--the patient opened his eyes, and fixed them upon Brian's
+face. Brian had said that his appearance would produce no agitation, but
+he was mistaken. A sudden change passed over that pale countenance.
+Dino's great dark eyes seemed to grow larger than ever; his face assumed
+a still more deathly tinge; the look of mingled anguish and horror was
+unmistakable. He tried to speak, he tried to rise in his bed, but the
+effort was too great, and he sank back insensible. The indignant nurse
+hustled Brian away, and would not allow him to return; he ought to have
+known, she said, that the sight of him would excite the patient. Brian
+had not known, and was grieved to think that his visit had been
+unacceptable. But that did not prevent him from writing an account of
+the state in which he had found Dino Vasari to his friend, Padre
+Cristoforo; nor from calling at the hospital every day to inquire after
+the state of his Italian friend. He was glad to hear at last that Dino
+was out of danger; then, that he was growing a little stronger; and then
+that he had expressed a desire to see the English gentleman when he
+called again.
+
+By this time he had, to some extent, changed his plans. Neither
+Australia nor New Zealand would be his destination. He had taken his
+passage in a vessel bound for Pernambuco, and a very short time remained
+to him in England. He was glad to think that he should see Dino before
+he went.
+
+He found the young man greatly altered: his eyes gleamed in orbits of
+purple shadow: his face was white and wasted. But the greatest change of
+all lay in this--that there was no smile upon his lips, no pleasure in
+his eyes, when he saw Brian draw near his bed.
+
+"Dino!" said Brian, holding out his hand. "How did you come here, amico
+mio?" And then he noticed the absence of any welcoming word or gesture
+on Dino's part. The large dark eyes were bent upon him questioningly,
+and yet with a proud reserve in their shadowy depths. And the
+blue-veined hands locked themselves together upon the coverlet instead
+of returning Brian's friendly grasp.
+
+"Why have you come?" said Dino, in a loud whisper. "What do you want?"
+
+"I want nothing save to ask how you are and to see you again," replied
+Brian, after a pause of astonishment.
+
+"If you want to alter your decision it is not yet too late. I have taken
+no steps towards the claiming of my rights."
+
+"His mind must be wandering," thought Brian to himself. He added aloud
+in a soothing tone, "I have made no decision about anything, Dino. Can I
+do anything for you?"
+
+Dino looked at him long and meditatively. Brian's face expressed some
+surprise, but perfect tranquility of mind. He had seated himself at
+Dino's bed-side, and was leaning his chin upon his hand and his elbow
+upon his crossed knees.
+
+"Why did you make Hugo Luttrell your messenger? Why not come to meet me
+yourself as Padre Cristoforo begged you to do?"
+
+Brian shook his head. "I don't think you had better talk, Dino," he
+said. "You are feverish, surely. I will come and see you again
+to-morrow."
+
+"No, no: answer my question first," said Dino, a slight flush rising to
+his thin cheeks. "Why could you not come yourself?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"When! You know."
+
+"Upon my honour, Dino, I don't know what you mean."
+
+"You--you--had a letter from Padre Cristoforo--about me?" said Dino,
+stammering with eagerness.
+
+Brian looked guilty. "I was a great fool, Dino," he said, penitently. "I
+had a letter from him, and I managed to lose it before I had read more
+than the first sheet, in which there was nothing about you. I suppose he
+told me in that letter why you came to London, and asked me to meet you
+or something; and I wish I had met you, if it would have prevented this
+unfortunate accident of yours, or whatever it was. My own carelessness
+is always to blame," said Brian, with a heavy sigh, "and I don't wonder
+that you look coldly upon me, Dino, when I seem to have done you such an
+unfriendly turn. But I don't think I need say that I never meant to do
+it."
+
+"How did you know that I was here?" asked Dino, with breathless
+interest.
+
+"I saw in the papers an account of your being found insensible from a
+wound in your side. The name Vasari was mentioned, and I came to see if
+it could possibly be you."
+
+Dino was silent for a few minutes. Then his face lighted up, his pale
+lips parted with a smile. "So you never read Father Cristoforo's
+letter?" he said. "And you sent me no message of reply?"
+
+"Certainly not. How could I, when I did not know that you were in
+England?"
+
+Dino held out his hands. "I misjudged you," he said, simply, "Will you
+forgive me and take my hand again?"
+
+Brian clasped his hand. "You know there's nothing to forgive," he said,
+with a smile. "But I am glad you don't think I neglected you on purpose,
+Dino. I had not forgotten those pleasant days at San Stefano."
+
+Dino smiled, too, but did not seem inclined to speak again. The nurse
+came to say that the interview had lasted long enough, and Brian took
+his leave, promising to come on the morrow, and struck with the look of
+perfect peace and quiet upon the placid face as it lay amongst the white
+pillows, almost as white as they.
+
+He had only a couple of days left before he was to start for Pernambuco,
+where he had heard of work that was likely to suit him. He had made his
+arrangements, taken his passage in the steerage: he had nothing to do
+now but to write a farewell letter to Mr. Heron, telling him whither he
+was bound, and another--should he write that other or should he not?--to
+Elizabeth. He felt it hard to go without saying one last farewell to
+her. The discovery that she was the heiress of his property had finally
+decided him to leave England. He dared not risk the chance of being
+recognised and identified, if such recognition and identification would
+lead to her poverty. For even if, by a deed of gift in his supposed name
+of Brian Luttrell, he devised his wealth to her, he knew that she would
+never consent to take it if he were still alive. The doubt thrown on his
+birth and parentage would not be conclusive enough in her mind to
+justify her in despoiling him of what all the judges in the land would
+have said was his birthright. But then Brian did not know that Vincenza
+Vasari had been found. The existence of another claimant to the Luttrell
+estate never troubled him in the least. He wronged nobody, he thought,
+by allowing Elizabeth Murray to suppose that Brian Luttrell was dead.
+
+He wrote a few lines to Mr. Heron, thanking him for his kindness, and
+informing him that he was leaving England for South America; and then he
+proceeded to the more difficult task of writing to Elizabeth. He
+destroyed many sheets of paper, and spent a great deal of time in the
+attempt, although the letter, as it stood at last, was a very simple
+affair, scarcely worthy of the pains that had been bestowed upon it.
+
+"Dear Miss Murray," he wrote, "when you receive this note I shall have
+left England, but I cannot go without one word of farewell. You will
+never know how much you did for me in those early days of our
+acquaintance in Italy; how much hope you gave me back, how much interest
+in life you inspired in me; but for all that you did I thank you. Is it
+too much to ask you to remember me sometimes? I shall remember you until
+the hour of my death. Forgive me if I have said too much. God bless you,
+Elizabeth! Let me write that name once, for I shall never write to you
+nor see your face again."
+
+He put no signature. He could not bear to use a false name when he wrote
+to her; and he was sure that she would know from whom the letter came.
+
+He went out and dropped it with his own hands into a letter-box; then he
+came back to his dreary lodgings, never expecting to find there anything
+of interest. But he found something that interested him very much
+indeed. He found a long and closely written letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano.
+
+Father Cristoforo could not resist the opportunity of lecturing his
+young friend a little. He gave him a good many moral maxims before he
+came to the story that he had to tell, and he pointed them by observing
+rather severely that if it were not for Brian's carelessness, his pupil
+might possibly have escaped the "accident" that had befallen him. For if
+Brian had met Dino in London on the appointed day, he would not have
+been wandering alone in the streets (as Father Cristoforo imagined him
+to have been) or fallen into the hands of thieves and murderers.
+
+With which prologue the Padre once more began his story. And this time
+Brian read it all.
+
+He put down the letter at last with a curious smile: the smile of a man
+who does not want to acknowledge that he suffers pain. "Dino," he said
+to himself, lingeringly. "Dino! It is he who is Brian Luttrell, then,
+after all. And what am I? And, oh, my poor Elizabeth! But she will only
+regret the loss of the money because she will no longer be able to help
+other people. The Herons will suffer more than she. And Percival Heron!
+How will it affect him? I think he will be pleased. Yes, I think he is
+disinterested enough to be thoroughly pleased that she is poor. I should
+be pleased, in his case.
+
+"There is no doubt about it now, I suppose," he said, beginning to pace
+up and down the little room, with slow, uneven steps and bent head. "I
+am not a Luttrell. I am a Vasari. My mother's name was Vincenza
+Vasari--a woman who lied and cheated for the sake of her child. And I
+was the child! Good God! how can it be that I have that lying blood in
+my veins? Yet I have no right to say so; it was all done for me--for
+me--who never knew a mother's love. Oh, mother, mother, how much happier
+your son would have been if you had reared him in the place where he was
+born, amongst the vines and olive-yards of his native land.
+
+"And I must see Dino to-morrow. So he knows the whole story. I
+understand now why he thought ill of me for not coming to meet him, poor
+fellow! I must go early to-morrow."
+
+He went, but as soon as he reached Dino's bed-side he found that he knew
+not what to say, Dino looked up at him with eyes full of grave, wistful
+affection, and suddenly smiled, as if something unwontedly pleasant had
+dawned upon his mind.
+
+"Ah," he said, "at last--you know."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Brian.
+
+"And you are sorry? I am sorry, too."
+
+"No," said Brian, finding it rather difficult to express himself at that
+moment; "I am not sorry that you are the man who will bear the name of
+Luttrell, that I have wrongly borne so long. I suppose--from what the
+Prior says--that your claim can be proved; if I were in my old position
+I should be the first to beg you to prove it, and to give up my name and
+place to you if justice required it. As it is, I do not stand in your
+way, because the old Brian Luttrell--the one who killed his brother, you
+know--is dead."
+
+"But if you were in your old position, could you still pardon me and be
+friendly with me, even if I claimed my rights?"
+
+"I hope so," said Brian. "I hope that I should not be so ungenerous as
+to look upon you as an enemy because you wished to take your own place
+amongst your own kindred. You ought rather to look upon me as your
+enemy, because I have occupied your place so long."
+
+"You are good--you are generous--you are noble!" said Dino, his eyes
+suddenly filling with tears. "If all the world were like you! And do you
+know what I shall do if the estate ever becomes mine? You shall take the
+half--you may take it all, if it please you better. But we will divide
+it, at any rate, and be to each other as brothers, shall we not? I have
+thought of you so often!"
+
+He spoke ardently, eagerly; pressing Brian's hands between his own from
+time to time. It was from an impulse as strong and simple as any of
+Dino's own that Brian suddenly stooped down and kissed him on the
+forehead. The caress seemed natural enough to Dino; it was as the
+ratification of some sacred bond to the English-bred Brian Luttrell.
+Henceforth, the two became to each other as brothers, indeed; the
+interests of one became the interests of the other. Before long, Dino
+learnt from Brian himself the whole of his sad story. He lay with
+shining eyes and parted lips, his hand clasped in Brian's, listening to
+his account of the events of the last two years. The only thing that
+Brian did not touch upon was his love for Elizabeth. That wound was too
+recent to be shown, even to Dino, who had leaped all at once, as it
+seemed, into the position of his bosom friend. But Dino guessed it all.
+
+As Brian walked back to his lodgings from the hospital, he was haunted
+by a verse of Scripture which had sprung up in his mind, and which he
+repeated with a certain sense of pleasure as soon as he recollected the
+exact words. "And it came to pass"--so ran the verse that he
+remembered--"when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul that the soul
+of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as
+his own soul." He liked the words. He looked them out in a Bible
+belonging to his landlady when he reached home, and he found another
+verse that touched him, too. "Then Jonathan and David made a covenant,
+because he loved him as his own soul."
+
+Had not Brian Luttrell and Dino Vasari made a covenant?
+
+The practical result of their friendship was an important one to Brian.
+He sacrificed his passage money, and did not sail on the following day
+for Pernambuco.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.
+
+
+"I wonder what she wants with me," said Percival Heron, meditatively. He
+was sitting at his solitary breakfast-table, having pushed from him an
+empty coffee-cup and several newspapers: a letter from Elizabeth was in
+his hands. It consisted of a few lines only, and the words that had
+roused his wonderment were these:--
+
+"I am very anxious to see you. Could you come down to Strathleckie at
+once? If not, pray come as soon as possible."
+
+"I suppose she is too true a woman to say exactly what she wants," said
+Percival, a gay smile curling his lips beneath his black moustache.
+"Perhaps she won't be very angry with me this time if I press her a
+little on the subject of our marriage. We parted on not very good terms
+last time, rather _en délicatesse_, if I'm not mistaken, after
+quarrelling over our old subject of dispute, the tutor. Well, my lady's
+behests are to be obeyed. I'll wire an acceptance of the invitation and
+start to-night."
+
+He made the long journey very comfortably, grumbling now and then in a
+good-tempered way at Elizabeth for sending for him in so abrupt a
+fashion; but on the whole he felt pleased that she had done so. It
+showed that she had confidence in him. And he was very anxious for the
+engagement to be made public: its announcement would be a sort of
+justification to him in allowing her to do as much as she had done for
+his family. Percival had, in truth, always protested against her
+generosity, but failed in persuading his father not to accept it. Mr.
+Heron was too simple-minded to see why he should not take Elizabeth's
+gifts, and Mrs. Heron did not see the force of Percival's arguments at
+all.
+
+"Elizabeth is not here, then," he said to Kitty, who met him at the
+station.
+
+"No," answered Kitty in rather a mysterious voice. "She wouldn't come."
+
+"Why wouldn't she come?" said Percival, sharply. He followed his sister
+into the waggonette as he spoke: he did not care about driving, and
+gladly resigned the reins to the coachman.
+
+"I can't tell you. I don't think she is well."
+
+"Not well? What's the matter?"
+
+"I don't know. She always has a headache. Did she want you to come,
+Percival?"
+
+"She wrote to ask me."
+
+"I'm glad of that."
+
+"Kitty, will you have the goodness to say what you mean, instead of
+hinting?"
+
+Kitty looked frightened.
+
+"I don't mean anything," she said, hurriedly, while a warm wave of
+colour spread itself over her cheeks and brow.
+
+"Don't mean anything? That's nonsense. You should not say anything then.
+Out with it, Kitty. What do you think is wrong with Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, Percival, don't be so angry with me," said Kitty, with the tears in
+her eyes. "Indeed, I scarcely meant to speak; but I did wish you to
+understand beforehand----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't think she wants to marry you." And then Kitty glanced up from
+under her thick, curling lashes, and was startled at the set and rigid
+change which suddenly came over her brother's features. She dared not
+say any more, and for some minutes they drove on in silence. Presently,
+Percival turned round to her with an icy sternness in his voice.
+
+"You should not say such things unless you have authority from Elizabeth
+to say them. Did she tell you to do so?"
+
+"No, no, indeed she did not," cried Kitty, "and, of course, I may be
+mistaken; but I came to see you, Percival, on purpose to tell you."
+
+"No woman is happy unless she is making mischief," said her brother,
+grimly.
+
+"You ought not to say that, Percival; it is not fair. And I must say
+what I came to say. Elizabeth is very unhappy about something. I don't
+know what; and after all her goodness to us you ought to be careful that
+you are not making her do anything against her will."
+
+"Did you ever know Elizabeth do anything against her will?"
+
+"Against her wishes, then," said Kitty, firmly, "and against the
+dictates of her heart."
+
+"'These be fine words, indeed!'" quoted Percival, with a savage laugh.
+"And who has taught you to talk about the 'dictates of her heart?' Leave
+Elizabeth and me to settle our affairs between ourselves, if you please.
+We know our duty to each other without taking advice from a little
+schoolgirl."
+
+Kitty stifled a sob. "If you break Elizabeth's heart," she said,
+vehemently, "you can't say I didn't warn you."
+
+Percival looked at her, stifled a question at the tip of his tongue, and
+clutched his newspaper viciously. It occurred to him that Kitty knew
+something, that she would never have uttered a mere vague suspicion; but
+he would not ask her a direct question. No, Elizabeth's face and voice
+would soon tell him whether she was unhappy.
+
+He was right. Kitty had seen the parting between Brian and Elizabeth;
+and she had guessed a great deal more than she saw. She spoke out of no
+desire to make mischief, but from very love for her cousin and care for
+her happiness; but when she noted Percival's black brows she doubted
+whether she had done right.
+
+Percival did not speak again throughout the drive. He sat with his eyes
+bent on his newspaper, his hand playing with his moustache, a frown on
+his handsome face. It was not until the carriage stopped at the door of
+Strathleckie, and he had given his hand to Kitty to help her down that
+he opened his lips.
+
+"Don't repeat what you have said to me to any other person, please."
+
+"Of course not, Percival."
+
+There was no time for more. The barking of dogs, the shouts of children,
+the greeting of Mr. Heron, prevented anything further. Percival looked
+round impatiently. But Elizabeth was not there.
+
+He was tired, although he would not confess it, with his night journey;
+and a bath, breakfast, and change of clothes did not produce their usual
+exhilarating effect. He found it difficult to talk to his father or to
+support the noise made by the children. Kitty's hint had put his mind
+into a ferment.
+
+"Can these boys not be sent to their lessons?" he said, at last,
+knitting his brows.
+
+"Oh, don't you know?" said Harry, cutting a delighted caper. "We have
+holidays now. Mr. Stretton has gone away. He went away a fortnight ago,
+or nearly three weeks now."
+
+Percival looked suddenly at Kitty, who coloured vividly.
+
+"Why did he go?" he asked.
+
+"I'm sure I can't tell you," said Mr. Heron, almost peevishly. "Family
+affairs, he said. And now he has gone to South America. I don't
+understand it at all."
+
+Neither did Percival.
+
+"Where is Elizabeth?" said Mr. Heron, looking round the room as if in
+search of her. "She can't know that Percival has come: go and tell her,
+one of you boys."
+
+"No, never mind," said Percival, quickly; but it was too late, the boy
+was gone.
+
+There was a little silence. Percival sat at one side of the
+whitely-draped table, with a luxurious breakfast before him and a great
+bowl of autumn flowers. The sunshine streamed in brightly through the
+broad, low windows; the pleasant room was fragrant with the scent of the
+burning wood upon the fire; the dogs wandered in and out, and stretched
+themselves comfortably upon the polished oak floor. Kitty sat in a
+cushioned window-seat and looked anxious; Mr. Heron stood by the
+fireplace and moved one of the burning logs in the grate with his foot.
+A sort of constraint had fallen over the little party, though nobody
+quite knew why; and it was not dispelled, even when Harry's footsteps
+were heard upon the stairs, and he threw open the door for Elizabeth.
+
+Percival threw down his serviette and started up to meet her. And then
+he knew why his father and sister looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth was
+changed; it was plain enough that Elizabeth must be ill.
+
+She was thinner than he had ever seen her, and her face had grown pale.
+But the fixed gravity and mournfulness of her expression struck him even
+more than the sharpened contour of her features or the dark lines
+beneath her eyes. She looked as if she suffered: as if she was suffering
+still.
+
+"You are ill!" he said, abruptly, holding her by the hand and looking
+down into her face.
+
+"That's what I've been saying all along!" muttered Mr. Heron. "I knew he
+would be shocked by her looks. You should have prepared him, Kitty."
+
+"I have had neuralgia, that is all," said Elizabeth, quietly.
+
+"Strathleckie does not suit you; you ought to go away," remarked
+Percival, devouring her with his eyes. "What have you been doing to
+yourself?"
+
+"Nothing: I am perfectly well; except for this neuralgia," she said,
+with a faint, vexed smile. "Did you have a comfortable journey, and have
+you breakfasted?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"Then you will come out with me for a little stroll? I want to show you
+the grounds; and the others can spare you to me for a little while," she
+went on, with perfect ease and fluency. The only change in her manner
+was its unusual gravity, and the fact that she did not seem able to meet
+Percival's eye. "Are you too tired?"
+
+"Not at all." And they left the room together.
+
+She took him down the hill on which the house stood, by a narrow,
+winding path, to the side of a picturesque stream in the valley below.
+He had seen the place before, but he followed her without a word until
+they reached a wooden seat close to the water's edge, with its back
+fixed to the steep bank behind it. The rowan trees, with their clusters
+of scarlet berries, hung over it, and great clumps of ferns stood on
+either hand. It was an absolutely lonely place, and Percival knew
+instinctively that Elizabeth had brought him to it because she could
+here speak without fear of interruption.
+
+"It is a beautiful place, is it not?" she said, as he took his seat
+beside her.
+
+He did not answer. He rather disdained the trivial question. He was
+silent for a few minutes, and then said briefly:--
+
+"Tell me why you wanted me."
+
+"I have been unhappy," she said, simply.
+
+"That is easy to be seen."
+
+"Is it? Oh, I am sorry for that. But I have had neuralgia. I have,
+indeed. That makes me look pale and tired."
+
+Percival threw his arm over the back of the seat with an impatient
+motion, and looked at the river. "Nothing else?" he asked, drily. "It
+seems hardly worth while to send for me if that was all. The doctor
+would have done better."
+
+"There is something else," said Elizabeth, in so quiet and even a voice
+as to sound almost indifferent.
+
+"Well, I supposed so. What is it?"
+
+"You are making it very hard for me to tell you, Percival," said she,
+with one of her old, straight glances. "What is it you know? What is it
+you suspect?"
+
+"Excuse me, Elizabeth, I have not said that I know or suspect anything.
+Everybody seems a little uncomfortable, but that is nothing. What is the
+matter?"
+
+As she did not answer, he turned and looked at her. Her face was pale,
+but there was a look of indomitable resolve about her which made him
+flinch from his purpose of maintaining a cold and reserved manner. A
+sudden fear ran through his heart lest Kitty's warning should be true!
+
+"Elizabeth," he said, quickly and passionately, "forgive me for the way
+in which I have spoken. I am an ill-tempered brute. It is my anxiety for
+you that makes me seem so savage. I cannot bear to see you look as you
+do: it breaks my heart!"
+
+Her lip trembled at this. She would rather that he had preserved his
+hard, sullen manner: it would have made it more easy for her to tell her
+story. She locked her hands closely together, and answered in low,
+hesitating tones:--
+
+"I am not worth your anxiety. I did not mean to be--untrue--to you,
+Percival. I suffered a great deal before I made up my mind that I had
+better tell you--everything."
+
+A tear fell down her pale cheek unheeded. Percival rose to his feet.
+
+"I don't think there is much to tell, is there?" he said. "You mean that
+you wish to give me up, to throw me over? Is that all?"
+
+His words were calm, but the tone of ironical bitterness in which they
+were uttered cut Elizabeth to the quick. She lifted her head proudly.
+
+"No," she said, "you are wrong. I wish nothing of the kind."
+
+He stood in an attitude of profound attention, waiting for her to
+explain. His face wore its old, rigid look: the upright line between his
+brows was very marked indeed. But he would not speak again.
+
+"Percival," she said--and her tone expressed great pain and profound
+self-abasement--"when I promised to marry you--someday, you will
+remember that I never said I loved you. I thought that I should learn to
+love in time. And so I did--but not--not you."
+
+"And who taught you the lesson that I failed to impart?" asked Percival,
+with the sneer in his voice which she knew and dreaded.
+
+"Don't ask me," she said, painfully. "It is not fair to ask me that. I
+did not know until it was too late."
+
+"Until he--whoever he was--asked you to marry him, I suppose? Well, when
+is the ceremony to take place? Do you expect me to dance at the wedding?
+Do you think I am going tamely to resign my rights? My God, Elizabeth,
+is it you who can treat me in this way? Are all women as false as you?"
+
+He struck his foot fiercely against the ground, and walked away from
+her. When he came back he found her in the same position; white as a
+statue, with her hands clasped together upon her knee, and her eyes
+fixed upon the running water.
+
+"Do you think that I am a stone," he said, violently, "that you tell me
+the story of your falseness so quietly, as if it were a tale that I
+should like to hear? Do you think that I feel nothing, or do you care so
+little what I feel? You had better have refused me outright at once than
+kept me dangling at your feet for a couple of years, only to throw me
+over at the last!"
+
+"I have not thrown you over," she said, raising her blue-grey eyes
+steadily to his agitated face. "I wanted to tell you; that was all. If
+you like to marry me now, knowing the truth, you may do so."
+
+"What!"
+
+"I may have been false to you in heart," she said, the hot blood tinting
+her cheeks with carnation as she spoke, "but I will not break my word."
+
+"And what did your lover say to that?" he asked, roughly, as he stood
+before her. "Did he not say that you were as false to him as you were to
+me? Did he not say that he would come back again and again, and force
+you to be true, at least, to him? For that is what I should have done in
+his place."
+
+"Then," Elizabeth said, with a touch of antagonism in her tones, "he was
+nobler than you."
+
+"Oh, no doubt," said Percival, tossing aside his head. "No doubt he is a
+finer fellow in every way. Am I to have the pleasure of making his
+acquaintance?"
+
+His scorn, his intolerance, were rousing her spirit at last. She spoke
+firmly, with a new light in her eyes, a new self-possession in her
+manner.
+
+"You are unjust, Percival. I think that you do not understand what I
+mean to tell you. He accepted my decision, and I shall never see him
+again. I thought at first that I would not tell you, but let our
+engagement go on quietly; and then again I thought that it would be
+unfair to you not to tell you the whole truth. I leave it to you to say
+what we should do. I have no love to give you--but you knew that from
+the first. The difference now is that I--I love another."
+
+Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she uttered the last few words,
+and she covered her face with her hands. Percival's brow cleared a
+little; the irony disappeared from his lips, the flash of scorn from his
+eye. He advanced to her side, and stood looking down at her for several
+minutes before he attempted any answer to her speech.
+
+"You mean to say," he began, in a softer tone, "that you rejected this
+man because you had given your promise to me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You sent him away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And he knew the reason? Did he know that you loved him, Elizabeth?"
+
+The answer was given reluctantly, after a long pause. "I do not know. I
+am afraid--he did."
+
+Percival drew a short, impatient breath. "You must forgive me if I was
+violent just now, Elizabeth. This is very hard to bear."
+
+"I dare not ask your pardon," she murmured, with her face still between
+her hands.
+
+"Oh, my pardon? That will do you little good," he said, contemptuously.
+"The question is--what is to be done? I suppose this man--this lover of
+yours--is within call, as it were, Elizabeth? You could summon him with
+your little finger? If I released you from this engagement to me, you
+could whistle him back to you next day?"
+
+"Oh, no," she said, looking up at him wonderingly. "He is gone away from
+England. I do not know where he is."
+
+"It is this man Stretton, then?" said Percival, quietly.
+
+A sudden rush of colour to her face assured him that he had guessed the
+truth. "I always suspected him," he muttered.
+
+"You had no need. He behaved as honourably as possibly. He did not know
+of my engagement to you."
+
+"Honourably? A penniless adventurer making love to one of the richest
+women in Scotland!"
+
+"You mistake, Percival. He did not know that I was rich."
+
+"A likely story!"
+
+"You insult him--and me," said Elizabeth, in a very low tone. "If you
+have no pity, have some respect--for him--if you have none for me." And
+then she burst into an agony of tears, such as he had never seen her
+shed before. But he was pitiless still. The wound was very deep: his
+pain very sharp and keen.
+
+"Have you had any pity for me?" he said. "Why should I pity him? To my
+mind, he is the most enviable man on earth, because he has your love.
+Respect him, when he has stolen from me the thing that I value more than
+my life! You do not know what you say."
+
+She still wept, and presently he sat down beside her and leaned his head
+on his hand, looking at her from out of the shadow made by his bent
+fingers above his eyes.
+
+"Let me understand matters clearly," he said. "You sent him away, and he
+has gone to America, never to return. Is that it? And you will marry me,
+although you do not love me, because you have promised to do so, if I
+ask you? What do you expect me to say?"
+
+She shook her head. She could not speak.
+
+"I am not generous," he went on deliberately. "You have known me long
+enough to be aware that I am a very selfish man. I will not give you up
+to Stretton. He is not the right husband for you. He is a man whom you
+picked up in the streets, without a character, without antecedents, with
+a history which he dares not tell. So much I gathered from my father. I
+say nothing about his behaviour in this case; he may have acted well, or
+he may have acted badly; I have no opinion to give. But you shall never
+be his wife."
+
+Elizabeth's tears were dried as if by magic. She sat erect, listening
+with set lips and startled eyes to the fierce energy of his tones.
+
+"I accept your sacrifice," he said. "You will thank me in the end that I
+did so. No, I do not release you from your engagement, Elizabeth. You
+have said that you would keep your word, and I hold you to it."
+
+He drew her to him with his arm, and kissed her cheek with passionate
+determination. She shrank away, but he would not let her go.
+
+"No," he proceeded, "you are my promised wife, Elizabeth. I have no
+intention of giving you up for Stretton or anybody else. I love you more
+than ever now that I see how brave and honest you can be. We will have
+no more concealments. When we go back to the house we will tell all the
+world of our engagement. It was the secrecy that worked this mischief."
+
+She wrenched herself away from him with a look of mingled pain and
+anger. "Percival!" she cried, "do you want to make me hate you?"
+
+"I would rather have hate than indifference," he answered. "And whether
+you hate me or not, Elizabeth, you shall be my wife before the year is
+out. I shall not let you go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.
+
+
+Percival had his way. He came back to the house looking stern and grim,
+but with a resolute determination to carry his point. In half-an-hour it
+was known throughout the whole household that Miss Murray was engaged to
+be married to young Mr. Heron, and that the marriage would probably take
+place before Christmas.
+
+Kitty cast a frightened glance at Elizabeth's face when the announcement
+was made, but gathered little from its expression. A sort of dull apathy
+had come over the girl--a reaction, perhaps, from the excitement of
+feeling through which she had lately passed. It gave her no pain when
+Percival insisted upon demonstrations of affection which were very
+contrary to her former habits. She allowed him to hold her hand, to kiss
+her lips, to call her by endearing names, in a way that would ordinarily
+have roused her indignation. She seemed incapable of resistance to his
+will. And this passiveness was so unusual with her that it alarmed and
+irritated Percival by turns.
+
+Anger rather than affection was the motive of his conduct. As he himself
+had said, he was rather a selfish man, and he would not willingly
+sacrifice his own happiness unless he was very sure that hers depended
+upon the sacrifice. He was enraged with the man who had won Elizabeth's
+love, and believed him to be a scheming adventurer. Neither patience nor
+tolerance belonged to Percival's character; and although he loved
+Elizabeth, he was bitterly indignant with her, and not indisposed to
+punish her for her faithlessness by forcing her to submit to caresses
+which she neither liked nor returned. If he had any magnanimity in him
+he deliberately put it on one side; he knew that he was taking a revenge
+upon her for which she might never forgive him, which was neither
+delicate nor generous, but he told himself that he had been too much
+injured to show mercy. It was Elizabeth's own fault if he assumed the
+airs of a sultan with a favourite slave, instead of kneeling at her
+feet. So he argued with himself; and yet a little grain of conscience
+made him feel from time to time that he was wrong, and that he might
+live to repent what he was doing now.
+
+"We will be married before Christmas, Elizabeth," he said one day, when
+he had been at Strathleckie nearly a week. He spoke in a tone of cool
+insistence.
+
+"As you think best," she answered, sadly.
+
+"Would you prefer a later date?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "It is all the same to me.
+'If 'twere done at all, 'twere well done quickly,' you know."
+
+"Do you mean that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why delay it at all? Why not next week--next month, at latest?
+What is there to wait for?"
+
+They were sitting in the little school-room, or study, as it was called,
+near the front door--the very room in which Elizabeth had talked with
+Brian on the night of his arrival at Strathleckie. The remembrance of
+that conversation prompted her reply.
+
+"Oh, no," she said, in a tone of almost agonised entreaty. "Percival,
+have a little mercy. Not yet--not yet."
+
+His face hardened: his keen eyes fixed themselves relentlessly upon her
+white face. He was sitting upon the sofa: she standing by the fireplace
+with her hands clasped tightly before her. For a minute he looked at her
+thus, and then he spoke.
+
+"You said just now that it was all the same to you. May I ask what you
+mean?"
+
+"There is no need to ask me," she said, resolutely, although, her pale
+lips quivered. "You know what I mean. I will marry you before Christmas,
+if you like; but not with such--such indecent haste as you propose. Not
+this month, nor next."
+
+"In December then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You promise? Even if this man--this tutor--should come back?"
+
+"I suppose I have given you a right to doubt me, Percival," she said.
+"But I have never broken my word--never! From the first, I only promised
+to try to love you; and, indeed, I tried."
+
+"Oh, of course, I know that I am not a lovable individual," said
+Percival, throwing himself back on the cushions with a savage scowl.
+
+She looked up quickly: there was a bitter word upon her tongue, but she
+refrained from uttering it. The struggle lasted for a moment only; then
+she went over to him, and laid her hand softly upon his arm.
+
+"Percival, are you always going to be so hard upon me?" she said. "I
+know you do not easily forgive, and I have wronged you. Can I do more
+than be sorry for my wrong-doing? I was wrong to object to your wishes.
+I will marry you when you like: you shall decide everything for me now!"
+
+His face had been gloomily averted, but he turned and looked at her as
+she said the last few words, and took both her hands in his.
+
+"I'm not quite such a brute as you think me, Elizabeth," he answered,
+with some emotion in his voice. "I don't want to make you do what you
+find painful."
+
+"That is nonsense," she said, more decidedly than he had heard her speak
+for many days. "The whole matter is very painful to both of us at
+present. The only alleviation----"
+
+"Well, what is the only alleviation? Why do you hesitate?"
+
+She lifted her serious, clear eyes to his face.
+
+"I hesitated," she said, "because I did not feel sure whether I had the
+right to speak of it as an alleviation. I meant--the only thing that
+makes life bearable at all is the trying to do right; and, when one has
+failed in doing it, to get back to the right path as soon as possible,
+leaving the sin and misery behind."
+
+He still held her hands, and he looked down at the slender wrists (where
+the blue veins showed so much more distinctly than they used to do) with
+something like a sigh.
+
+"If one failure grieves you in this way, Elizabeth, what would you do if
+you had chosen a path from which you could not turn back, although you
+knew that it was wrong? There are many men and women whose lives are
+based upon what you would call, I suppose, wrong-doing."
+
+There was little of his usual sneering emphasis in the words. His face
+had fallen into an expression of trouble and sadness which it did not
+often wear; but there was so much less hardness in its lines than there
+had been of late that Elizabeth felt that she might answer him freely
+and frankly.
+
+"I don't think there is any path of wrong-doing from which one might not
+turn back, Percival. And it seems to me that the worst misery one could
+go through would be the continuing in any such path; because the
+consciousness of wrong would spoil all the beauty of life and take the
+flavour out of every enjoyment. It would end, I think, by breaking ones
+heart altogether."
+
+"A true woman's view," said Percival, starting up and releasing her
+hands, "but not one that is practicable in the world of men. I suppose
+you think you know one man, at least, who would come up to your ideal in
+that respect?"
+
+"I know several; you amongst them," she replied. "I am sure you would
+not deliberately do a wicked, dishonourable action for the world."
+
+"You have more faith in me than I deserve," he said, walking restlessly
+up and down the room. "I am not so sure--but of one thing I am quite
+sure, Elizabeth," and he came up to her and put his hands on her
+shoulders, "I am quite sure that you are the best and truest woman that
+ever lived, and I beg your pardon if I seemed for one moment to doubt
+you. Will you grant it to me, darling?"
+
+For the first time since the beginning of the visit, she looked at him
+gratefully, and even affectionately.
+
+"I have nothing to forgive you," she said. "If only I could forgive
+myself!" And then she burst into tears, and Percival forgot his
+ill-humour and his sense of wrong in trying to soothe her into calmness
+again.
+
+This conversation made them both happier. Elizabeth lost her unnatural
+passiveness of demeanour, and looked more like her clear-headed,
+energetic self; and Percival was less exacting and overbearing than he
+had been during the past week. He went back to London with a strong
+conviction that time would give him Elizabeth's heart as well as her
+hand; and that she would learn to forget the unprincipled scoundrel--so
+Percival termed him--who had dared to aspire to her love.
+
+The Herons were to return to London in November, and the purchase of
+Elizabeth's trousseau was postponed until then. But other preparations
+were immediately begun: there was a great talk of "settlements" and
+"entail" in the house; and Mr. Colquhoun had some very long and serious
+interviews with his fair client. It need hardly be stated that Mr.
+Colquhoun greatly objected to Miss Murray's marriage with her cousin,
+and applied to him (in strict privacy) not a few of the adjectives which
+Percival had bestowed upon the tutor. But the lawyer was driven to admit
+that Mr. Percival Heron, poor though he might be, showed a very
+disinterested spirit when consulted upon money matters, and that he
+stood firm in his determination that Elizabeth's whole fortune should be
+settled upon herself. He declared also that he was not going to live
+upon his wife's money, and that he should continue to pursue his
+profession of journalism and literature in general after his marriage;
+but at this assertion Mr. Colquhoun shook his head.
+
+"It shows a very independent spirit in ye, Mr. Heron," he said, when
+Percival announced his resolve in a somewhat lordly manner; "but I think
+that in six months' time after the marriage, ye'll just agree with me
+that your determination was one that could not be entirely carried out."
+
+"I usually do carry out my determinations, Mr. Colquhoun," said
+Percival, hotly.
+
+"No doubt, no doubt. It's a determination that reflects credit upon ye,
+Mr. Heron. Ye'll observe that I'm not saying a word against your
+determination," replied Mr. Colquhoun, warily, but with emphasis. "It's
+highly creditable both to Miss Murray and to yourself."
+
+And although Percival felt himself insulted, he could not well say more.
+
+The continuation of his connection with the daily press was the proof
+which he intended to offer to the world of his disinterestedness in
+marrying Elizabeth Murray. He disliked the thought of her wealth, but he
+was of too robust a nature, in spite of his sensitiveness on many
+points, to refuse to marry a woman simply because she was richer than
+himself. In fact, that is a piece of Quixotism not often practised, and
+though Percival would perhaps have been capable of refusing to make an
+offer of marriage to Elizabeth after she had come into her fortune, he
+was not disposed to withdraw that offer because it had turned out a more
+advantageous one for himself than he had expected. It is only fair to
+say that he did not hold Elizabeth to her word on account of her wealth;
+he never once thought of it in that interview with her on the
+river-bank. Selfish as he might be in some things, he was liberal and
+generous to a fault when money was in the question.
+
+It was Mr. Colquhoun who told Mrs. Luttrell of Miss Murray's engagement.
+He was amazed at the look of anger and disappointment that crossed her
+face. "Ay!" she said, bitterly, "I am too late, as I always am. This
+will be a sore blow to Hugo."
+
+"Hugo!" said the old lawyer. "Was he after Miss Murray too? Not a bad
+notion, either. It would have been a good thing to get the property back
+to the Luttrells. He could have called himself Murray-Luttrell then."
+
+"Too late for that," said Mrs. Luttrell, grimly. "Well, he shall have
+Netherglen."
+
+"Are you quite decided in your mind on that point?" queried Mr.
+Colquhoun.
+
+"Quite so. I'll give you my instructions about the will as soon as you
+like."
+
+"Take time! take time!" said the lawyer.
+
+"I have taken time. I have thought the matter over in every light, and I
+am quite convinced that what I possess ought to go to Hugo. There is no
+other Luttrell to take Netherglen--and to a Luttrell Netherglen must
+go."
+
+"I should have thought that you would like better to leave it to Miss
+Murray, who is of your own father's blood," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+cautiously. "She is your second cousin, ye'll remember; and a good girl
+into the bargain."
+
+"A good girl she may be, and a handsome one; and I would gladly have
+seen her the mistress of Netherglen if she were Hugo's wife; but
+Netherglen was never mine, it was my husband's, and though it came to me
+at his death, it shall stay in the Luttrell family, as he meant it to
+do. Elizabeth Murray has the Strathleckie property; that ought to be
+enough for her, especially as she is going to marry a penniless cousin,
+who will perhaps make ducks and drakes of it all."
+
+"Hugo's a fortunate lad," said Mr. Colquhoun, drily, as he seated
+himself at a writing-table, in order to take Mrs. Luttrell's
+instructions. "I hope he may be worthy of his good luck."
+
+Hugo did not seem to consider himself very fortunate when he heard the
+news of Miss Murray's approaching marriage. He looked thoroughly
+disconcerted. Mrs. Luttrell was inclined to think that his affections
+had been engaged more deeply than she knew, and in her hard, unemotional
+way, tried to express some sympathy with him in his loss. It was not a
+matter of the affections with Hugo, however, but his purse. His money
+affairs were much embarrassed: he was beginning to calculate the amount
+that he could wring out of Mrs. Luttrell, and, if she failed him, he had
+made up his mind to marry Elizabeth.
+
+"Heron!" he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise and disgust, "I don't
+believe she cares a rap for Heron."
+
+"How can you tell?" said his aunt.
+
+Hugo looked at her, looked down, and said nothing.
+
+"If you think she liked you better than Mr. Heron," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+in a meditative tone, "something might yet be done to change the course
+of affairs."
+
+"No, no," said Hugo, hastily. "Dear Aunt Margaret, you are too kind. No,
+if she is happy, it is all I ask. I will go to Strathleckie this
+afternoon; perhaps I can then judge better."
+
+"I don't want you to do anything dishonourable," said his aunt, "but, if
+Elizabeth likes you best, Hugo, I could speak to Mr. Heron--the father,
+I mean--and ascertain whether the engagement is absolutely irrevocable.
+I should like to see you happy as well as Elizabeth Murray."
+
+Hugo sighed, kissed his aunt's hand, and departed--not to see Elizabeth,
+but Kitty Heron. He felt that if his money difficulties could only be
+settled, he was well out of that proposed marriage with Elizabeth; but
+then money difficulties were not easily settled when one had no money.
+In the meantime, he was free to make love to Kitty.
+
+Percival spent two or three busy weeks in London, and found that hard
+work was the best specific for the low spirits from which he had
+suffered during his stay in Scotland. He heard regularly from Elizabeth,
+and her letters, though not long, and somewhat coldly expressed, gave
+him complete satisfaction. He noticed with some surprise that she spoke
+a good deal of Hugo Luttrell; he seemed to be always with them, and the
+distant cousinship existing between him and Elizabeth had been made the
+pretext for a good deal of apparent familiarity. He was "Hugo" now to
+the whole family; he had been "Mr. Luttrell" only when Percival left
+Strathleckie.
+
+He was sitting alone in his "den," as he nicknamed it, late in the
+afternoon of a November day, when a low knock at the door made itself
+faintly heard. Percival was smoking; having come in cold and tired, he
+had wheeled an arm-chair in front of the fire, and was sitting with his
+feet on the bars of the grate, whereby a faint odour of singed leather
+was gradually mingling with the fumes of the very strong tobacco that he
+loved. His green shaded lamp stood on a small table beside him, throwing
+its light full upon the pages of the French novel that he had taken up
+to read (it was "Spiridion" and he was reading it for about the
+twentieth time); books and newspapers, as usual, strewed the floor, the
+tables, and the chairs; well-filled book-shelves lined three of the
+walls; the only ornaments were the photographs of two or three actors
+and actresses, some political caricatures pinned to the walls, a couple
+of foils and boxing-gloves, and on the mantelpiece a choice collection
+of pipes. The atmosphere was thick, the aspect of the furniture dusty:
+Percival Heron's own appearance was not at that moment calculated to
+insure admiration. His hair was absolutely dishevelled; truth compels us
+to admit that he had not shaved that day, and that his chin was
+consequently of a blue-black colour and bristly surface, which could not
+be called attractive: his clothes were shabby to the last degree, frayed
+at the cuffs, and very shiny on the shoulders. Heron was a poor man, and
+had a good deal of the Bohemian in his constitution: hence came a
+certain contempt for appearances, which sometimes offended his friend
+Vivian, as well as a real inability to spend money on clothes and
+furniture without getting into debt. And Percival, extravagant as he
+sometimes seemed, was never in debt: he had seen too much of it in his
+father's house not to be alive to its inconveniences, and he had had the
+moral courage to keep a resolution made in early boyhood, that he would
+never owe money to any man. Hence came the shabbiness--and also,
+perhaps, some of the arrogance--of which his friends complained.
+
+Owing partly therefore to the shabbiness, partly to the untidiness,
+partly to the very comfort of the slightly overheated room, the visitor
+who entered it did not form a very high opinion of its occupant.
+Percival's frown, and momentary stare of astonishment, were, perhaps,
+enough to disconcert a person not already very sure of his reception.
+
+"Am I dreaming?" muttered Heron to himself, as he cast the book to the
+ground, and rose to his feet. "One would think that George Sand's
+visionary young monk had walked straight out of the book into my room.
+Begging, I suppose. Good evening. You have called on behalf of some
+charity, I suppose? Come nearer to the fire; it is a cold night."
+
+The stranger--a young man in a black cassock--bowed courteously, and
+seated himself in the chair that Percival pointed out. He then spoke in
+English, but with a foreign accent, which did not sound unpleasantly in
+Heron's ears.
+
+"I have not come on behalf of any charity," he said, "but I come in the
+interests of justice."
+
+"The same thing, I suppose, in the long run," Percival remarked to
+himself. "But what a fine face the beggar has! He's been ill lately, or
+else he is half-starved--shall I give him some whisky and a pipe? I
+suppose he would feel insulted!"
+
+While he made these reflections, he replied politely that he was always
+pleased to serve the interests of justice, offered his guest a glass of
+wine (chiefly because he looked so thin and pale)--an offer which was
+smilingly rejected--then crossed his legs, looked up to the ceiling, and
+awaited in silent resignation the pitiful story which he was sure that
+this young monk had come to tell.
+
+But, after a troubled glance at Mr. Heron's face, (which had a
+peculiarly reckless and defiant expression by reason of the tossed hair,
+the habitual frown and the bristles on his chin), the visitor began to
+speak in a very different strain from the one which Percival had
+expected.
+
+"I have come," he said, "on affairs which concern yourself and your
+family; and, therefore, I most heartily beg your pardon if I appear to
+you an insolent intruder, speaking of matters which it does not concern
+me to know."
+
+His formal English sentences were correct enough, but seemed to be
+constructed with some difficulty. Percival's eyes came down from the
+ceiling and rested upon his thin, pale face with lazy curiosity.
+
+"I should not have thought that my affairs would be particularly
+interesting to you," he said.
+
+"But there you are wrong, they interest me very much," said the young
+man, with much vivacity. His dark eyes glowed like coals of fire as he
+proceeded. "There is scarcely anyone whose fortunes are of so much
+significance to me."
+
+"I am much obliged to you," murmured Percival, with lifted eyebrows;
+"but I hardly understand----"
+
+"You will understand quite soon enough, Mr. Heron," said the visitor,
+quietly. "I have news for you that may not be agreeable. I believe that
+you have a cousin, a Miss Murray, who lately succeeded to a great
+fortune."
+
+"Yes, but what has that to do with you, if you please?" demanded Heron,
+his amiability vanishing into space.
+
+The stranger lifted his hand.
+
+"Allow me one moment. She inherited this fortune on the death of a Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, I think?"
+
+"Exactly--but what----"
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Heron. I come to my piece of news at last. Miss Murray
+has no right to the property which she is enjoying. Mr. Brian Luttrell
+is alive!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+A REVELATION.
+
+
+Percival started from his chair. His first exclamation was a rather
+profane one, for which the monk immediately reproved him. He did not
+take much notice of the reproof: he stared hard at the young man for a
+minute or two, unconsciously repeated the objectionable expression, and
+then took one or two turns up and down the room. After which he came to
+a standstill, thrust his hands into his pockets, and allowed his
+features to relax into a sardonically-triumphant smile.
+
+"You couldn't tell me a thing which I should be better pleased to hear,"
+he said. "But I don't believe it's true."
+
+This was rude, but the visitor was not disconcerted. He looked at
+Percival's masterful face with interest, and a little suspicion, and
+answered quietly:--
+
+"I do not know exactly what evidence will satisfy you, sir. Of course,
+you will require evidence. I, myself, Bernardino Vasari of San Stefano,
+can testify that I saw Brian Luttrell in our monastery on the 27th day
+of November, some days after his reputed death. I can account for all
+his time after that date, and I can tell you where he is to be found at
+present. His cousin, Hugo Luttrell, has already recognised him, and,
+although he is much changed, I fancy that there would be small doubt
+about his identification."
+
+"But why, in Heaven's name, did he allow himself to be thought dead?"
+cried Percival.
+
+"You know, probably, the circumstances attending his brother's death?"
+said Dino, gently. "These, and a cruel letter from Mrs. Luttrell, made
+him resolve to take advantage of an accident in which his companions
+were killed. He made his way to a little inn on the southern side of the
+Alps, and thence to our monastery, where I recognised him as the
+gentleman whom I had previously seen travelling in Germany. I had had
+some conversation with him, and he had interested me--I remembered him
+well."
+
+"Did he give his name as Brian Luttrell then?"
+
+"I accosted him by it, and he begged me at once not to do so, but to
+give him another name."
+
+"What name?"
+
+"I will tell you the name presently, Mr. Heron. He remained in the
+monastery for some months: first ill of a fever on the brain, then,
+after his recovery, as a teacher to our young pupils. When he grew
+stronger he became tired of our peaceful life; he left the monastery and
+wandered from place to place in Italy. But he had no money: he began to
+think of work. He was learned: he could teach: he thought that he might
+be a tutor. Shall I go on?"
+
+"Good God!" said Percival, below his breath. He had actually turned
+pale, and was biting his moustache savagely. "Go on, sir!" he thundered,
+looking at Dino from beneath his knitted brows. "Tell me the rest as
+quickly as you can."
+
+"He met with an English family," Dino continued, watching with keen
+interest the effect of his words. "They were kind to him: they took him,
+without character, without recommendations, and allowed him to teach
+their children. He did not know who they were: he thought that they were
+rich people, and that the young lady who was so dutiful to them, and
+cared so tenderly for their children, was poor like himself, a dependent
+like himself. He dared, therefore----"
+
+"He lies and you lie!" Percival burst out, furiously. "How dare you come
+to me with a tale of this sort? He must have known! It was simply a base
+deception in order to get back his estate. If I had him here----"
+
+"If you had him here you would listen to him, Mr. Heron," said Dino, in
+a perfectly unmoved voice, "as you will listen to me when the first
+shock of your surprise is over."
+
+"Your garb, I suppose, protects you," said Percival, sharply. "Else I
+would throw you out of the window to join your accomplice outside. I
+daresay he is there. I don't believe a word of your story. May I trouble
+you to go?"
+
+"This conduct is unworthy of you, sir," said Dino. "Brian Luttrell's
+identity will not be disproved by bluster. There is not the least doubt
+about it. Mr. Brian Luttrell is alive and has been teaching in your
+father's family for the last few months under the name of John
+Stretton."
+
+"Then he is a scoundrel," said Percival. He threw himself into his chair
+again, with his feet stretched out before him, and his hands still
+thrust deep into his trousers' pockets. His face was white with rage. "I
+always thought that he was a rogue; and, if this story is true, he has
+proved himself one."
+
+"How?" said Dino, quietly. "By living in poverty when he might have been
+rich? By allowing others to take what was legally his own, because he
+had a scruple about his moral right to it? If you knew all Brian
+Luttrell's story you would know that his only fault has been that of
+over-conscientiousness, over-scrupulousness. But you do not know the
+story, perhaps you never will, and, therefore, you cannot judge."
+
+"I do not want to judge. I have nothing to do with Mr. Stretton and his
+story," said Percival.
+
+"I will tell you----"
+
+"I will not hear. You are impostors, the pair of you."
+
+Dino's eyes flashed and his lips compressed themselves. His face, thin
+from his late illness, assumed a wonderful sternness of expression.
+
+"This is folly," he said, with a cold serenity of tone which impressed
+Percival in spite of himself. "You will have to hear part of his story
+sooner or later, Mr. Heron; for your own sake, for Miss Murray's sake,
+you had better hear it now."
+
+"Look here, my good man," said Percival, sitting up, and regarding his
+visitor with contemptuous disgust, "don't go bringing Miss Murray's name
+into this business, for, if you do, I'll call a policeman and give you
+in charge for trying to extort money on false pretences, and you may
+thank your priest's dress, or whatever it is, that I don't kick you out
+of the house. Do you hear?"
+
+"Sir," said Dino, mildly, but with great dignity, "have I asked you for
+a single penny?"
+
+Heron looked at him as if he would like to carry out the latter part of
+his threat, but the young man was so frail, so thin, so feeble, that he
+felt suddenly ashamed of having threatened him. He rose, planted his
+back firmly against the mantelpiece, and pointed significantly to the
+door. "Go!" he said, briefly. "And don't come back."
+
+"If I go," said Dino, rising from his chair, "I shall take the express
+train to Scotland at eight o'clock to-night, and I shall see Miss Murray
+to-morrow morning."
+
+The shot told. A sort of quiver passed over Percival's set face. He
+muttered an angry ejaculation. "I'll see you d----d first," he said.
+"You'll do nothing of the kind."
+
+"Then will you hear my story?"
+
+Heron paused. He could have ground his teeth with fury; but he was quite
+alive to the difficulties of the situation. If this young monk went with
+his story to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth believed it, what would become of
+her fidelity to him? With his habitual cynicism, he told himself that no
+woman would keep her word, if by doing so she lost a fortune and a lover
+both. He must hear this story, if only to prevent its being told to her.
+
+"Well," he said at last, taking his pipe from the mantelshelf, "I'll
+listen. Be so good as to make your story short. I have no time to
+waste." And then he rammed the tobacco into the bowl with his thumb in a
+suggestively decisive manner, lighted it, and proceeded to puff at his
+pipe with a sort of savage vigour. He sent out great clouds of smoke,
+which speedily filled the air and rendered speaking difficult to Dino,
+whose lungs had become delicate in consequence of his wound. But
+Percival was rather pleased than otherwise to inconvenience him.
+
+"There are several reasons," the young man began, "why Brian Luttrell
+wished to be thought dead. He had killed his brother by accident, and
+Mrs. Luttrell thought that there had been malice as well as carelessness
+in the deed. That was one reason. His mother's harshness preyed upon his
+mind and drove him almost to melancholy madness. Mrs. Luttrell made
+another statement, and made it in a way that convinced him that she had
+reasons for making it----"
+
+"Can't you cut it short?" said Percival. "It's all very interesting, no
+doubt: but as I don't care a hang what Brian Luttrell said, or thought,
+or did, I should prefer to have as little of it as possible."
+
+"I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I must tell my story in my own
+way," answered Dino. The flash of his eye and the increased colour in
+his cheek showed that Heron's words irritated him, but his voice was
+carefully calm and cool. "Mrs. Luttrell's statement was this: that Brian
+Luttrell was not her son at all. I have in my possession the letter that
+she wrote to him on the subject, assuring him confidently that he was
+the child of her Italian nurse, Vincenza Vasari, and that her own child
+had died in infancy, and was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano.
+Here is the letter, if you like to assure yourself that what I have said
+is true."
+
+Percival made a satirical little bow of refusal. But a look of attention
+had come into his eyes.
+
+"Brian believed this story absolutely, although he had then no proof of
+its truth," continued Dino. "She told him that the Vasari family lived
+at San Stefano----"
+
+"Vasari! Relations of your own, I presume," interposed Percival, with
+ironical politeness.
+
+"And to San Stefano, therefore, he was making his way when the accident
+on the mountain occurred," said Dino, utterly disregarding the
+interruption. "There were inquiries made about him at San Stefano soon
+after the news of his supposed death arrived in England, for Mrs.
+Luttrell guessed that he would go thither if he were still living; but
+he had not then appeared at the monastery. He did not arrive at San
+Stefano, as I said before, until a fortnight after the date of the
+accident; he had been ill, and was footsore and weary. When he recovered
+from the brain-fever which prostrated him as soon as he reached the
+monastery, he told his whole story to the Prior, Padre Cristoforo of San
+Stefano, a man whose character is far beyond suspicion. I have also
+Padre Cristoforo's statement, if you would like to see it."
+
+Percival shook his head. But his pipe had gone out; he was listening now
+with interest.
+
+"As it happened," the narrator went on, "Padre Cristoforo was already
+interested in the matter, because the mother of Mrs. Luttrell's nurse,
+Vincenza, had, before her death, confided to him her suspicions, and
+those of Vincenza's husband concerning the child that she had nursed.
+There was a child living in the village of San Stefano, a child who had
+been brought up as Vincenza's child, but Vincenza had told her this boy
+was the true Brian Luttrell, and that her son had been taken back to
+Scotland as Mrs. Luttrell's child."
+
+"I see your drift now," remarked Percival, quietly re-lighting his pipe.
+"Where is this Italian Brian Luttrell to be found?"
+
+"Need I tell you? Should I come here with this story if I were not the
+man?"
+
+He asked the question almost sadly, but with a simplicity of manner
+which showed him to be free from any desire to produce any theatrical
+effect. He waited for a moment, looking steadily at Percival, whose
+darkening brow and kindling eyes displayed rapidly-rising anger.
+
+"I was called Dino Vasari at San Stefano," he continued, "but I believe
+that my rightful name is Brian Luttrell, and that Vincenza Vasari
+changed the children during an illness of Mrs. Luttrell's."
+
+"And that, therefore," said Percival, slowly, "you are the owner of the
+Strathleckie property--or, as it is generally called, the Luttrell
+property--now possessed by Miss Murray?"
+
+Dino bowed his head.
+
+Percival puffed away at his pipe for a minute or two, and surveyed him
+from head to foot with angry, contemptuous eyes. The only thing that
+prevented him from letting loose a storm of rage upon Dino's head was
+the young man's air of grave simplicity and good faith. He did not look
+like an intentional impostor, such as Percival Heron would gladly have
+believed him to be.
+
+"Do you know," inquired Heron, after a momentary pause, "what the
+penalties are for attempting to extort money, or for passing yourself
+off under a false name in order to get property? Did you ever hear of
+the Claimant and Portland Prison? I would advise you to acquaint
+yourself with these details before you come to me again. You may be more
+fool than knave; but you may carry your foolery or your knavery
+elsewhere."
+
+Dino smiled.
+
+"You had better hear the rest of my story before you indulge in these
+idle threats, Mr. Heron. I know perfectly well what I am doing."
+
+There was a tone of lofty assurance, almost of superiority, in Dino's
+calm voice, which galled Percival, because he felt that it had the power
+of subduing him a little. Before he had thought of a rejoinder, the
+young Benedictine resumed his story.
+
+"You will say rightly enough that these were not proofs. So Padre
+Cristoforo said when he kept me in the monastery until I came to years
+of discretion. So he told Brian Luttrell when he came to San Stefano.
+But since that day new witnesses have arisen. Vincenza Vasari was not
+dead: she had only disappeared for a time. She is now found, and she is
+prepared to swear to the truth of the story that I have told you. Mrs.
+Luttrell's suspicions, the statement made by Vincenza's husband and
+mother, the confession of another woman who was Vincenza's accomplice,
+all form corroborative evidence which will, I think, be quite sufficient
+to prove the case. So, at least, Messrs. Brett and Grattan assure me,
+and they have gone carefully into the matter, and have the original
+papers in their possession."
+
+"Brett and Grattan!" repeated Percival. He knew the names. "Do you say
+that Brett and Grattan have taken it up? You must have managed matters
+cleverly: Brett and Grattan are a respectable firm."
+
+"You are at liberty, of course, to question them. You may, perhaps,
+credit their statement."
+
+"I will certainly go to them and expose this imposture," said Percival,
+haughtily. "I suppose you have no objection," with a hardly-concealed
+sneer, "to go with me to them at once?"
+
+"Not in the least. I am quite ready."
+
+Percival was rather staggered by his willingness to accompany him. He
+laid down his pipe, which he had been holding mechanically for some time
+in his hand, and made a step towards the door. But as he reached it Dino
+spoke again.
+
+"I wish, Mr. Heron, that before you go to these lawyers you would listen
+to me a little longer. If for a moment or two you would divest yourself
+of your suspicions, if you would for a moment or two assume (only for
+the sake of argument) the truth of my story, I could tell you then why I
+came. As yet, I have scarcely approached the object of my errand."
+
+"Money, I suppose!" said Percival. "Truth will out, sooner or later."
+
+"Mr. Heron," said Dino, "are we to approach this subject as gentlemen or
+not? When I ask you for money, you will be at liberty to insult me, not
+before."
+
+Again that tone of quiet superiority! Percival broke out angrily:--
+
+"I will listen to nothing more from you. If you like to go with me to
+Brett and Grattan, we will go now; if not, you are a liar and an
+impostor, and I shall be happy to kick you out into the street."
+
+Dino raised his head; a quick, involuntary movement ran through his
+frame, as if it thrilled with anger at the insulting words. Then his
+head sank; he quietly folded his arms across his breast, and stood as he
+used to stand when awaiting an order or an admonition from the
+Prior--tranquil, submissive, silent, but neither ill-humoured nor
+depressed. The very silence and submission enraged Percival the more.
+
+"If you were of Scotch or English blood," he said, sharply, pausing as
+he crossed the room to look over his shoulder at the motionless figure
+in the black robe, with folded arms and bent head, "you would resent the
+words I have hastily used. That you don't do so is proof positive to my
+mind that you are no Luttrell."
+
+"If I am a Luttrell, I trust that I am a Christian, too," said Dino,
+tranquilly. "It is a monk's duty--a monk's privilege--to bear insult."
+
+"Detestable hypocrisy!" growled Percival to himself, as he stepped to
+the door and ostentatiously locked it, putting the key into his pocket,
+before he went into the adjoining bed-room to change his coat. "We'll
+soon see what Brett and Grattan say to him. Confound the fellow! Who
+would think that that smooth saintly face covered so much insolence! I
+should like to give him a good hiding. I should, indeed."
+
+He returned to the sitting-room, unlocked the door, and ordered a
+servant to fetch a hansom-cab. Then he occupied himself by setting some
+of the books straight on the shelves, humming a tune to himself
+meanwhile, as if nobody else were in the room.
+
+"Mr. Heron," Dino said at last, "I came to propose a compromise. Will
+you listen to it yet?"
+
+"No," said Percival, drily. "I'll listen to nothing until I have seen
+Brett. If your case is as good as you declare it is, he will convince
+me; and then you can talk about compromises. I'm not in the humour for
+compromises just now."
+
+He noticed that Dino's eyes were fixed earnestly upon something on his
+writing-table. He drew near enough to see that it was a cabinet
+photograph of Elizabeth Murray in a brass frame--a likeness which had
+just been taken, and which was considered remarkably good. The head and
+shoulders only were seen: the stately pose of the head, the slightly
+upturned profile, the rippling mass of hair resting on the fine
+shoulders, round which a shawl had been loosely draped--these
+constituted the chief points of a portrait which some people said was
+"idealised," but which, in the opinion of the Herons, only showed
+Elizabeth at her best. Percival coolly took up the photograph and
+marched away with it to another table, on which he laid it face
+downwards. He did not choose to have the Italian impostor scrutinising
+Elizabeth Murray's face. Dino understood the action, and liked him for
+it better than he had done as yet.
+
+The drive to Messrs. Brett and Grattan's office was accomplished in
+perfect silence. The office was just closing, but Mr. Brett--the partner
+with whom Percival happened to be acquainted--was there, and received
+the visitors very civilly.
+
+"You seem to know this--this gentleman, Mr. Brett?" began Percival,
+somewhat stiffly.
+
+"I think I have that pleasure," said Mr. Brett, who was a big,
+red-faced, genial-looking man, as much unlike the typical lawyer of the
+novel and the stage, as a fox-hunting squire would have been. But Mr.
+Brett's reputation was assured. "I think I have that pleasure," he
+repeated, rubbing his hands, and looking as though he was enjoying the
+interview very much. "I have seen him before once or twice, have I not?
+eh, Mr.--er--Mr.----"
+
+"Ah, that is just the point," said Percival. "Will you have the goodness
+to tell me the name of this--this person?"
+
+Mr. Brett stopped rubbing his hands, and looked from Dino to Percival,
+and back again to Dino. The look said plainly enough, "What shall I tell
+him? How much does he know?"
+
+"I wish to have no secrets from Mr. Heron," said Dino, simply. "He is
+the gentleman who is going to marry Miss Elizabeth Murray, and, of
+course, he is interested in the matter."
+
+"Ah, of course, of course. I don't know that you ought to have brought
+him here," said Mr. Brett, shaking his head waggishly at Dino. "Against
+rules, you know: against custom: against precedent. But I believe you
+want to arrange matters pleasantly amongst yourselves. Well, Mr. Heron,
+I don't often like to commit myself to a statement, but, under the
+circumstances, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe this
+gentleman now before you, who called himself Vasari in Italy, is in
+reality----"
+
+"Well?" said Percival, feeling his heart sink within him and speaking
+more impatiently than usual in consequence, "Well, Mr. Brett?"
+
+"Is in reality," said Mr. Brett, with great deliberation and emphasis,
+"the second son of Edward and Margaret Luttrell, stolen from them in
+infancy--Brian Luttrell."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+DINO'S PROPOSITION.
+
+
+Dino turned away. He would not see the discomfiture plainly depicted
+upon Percival's face. Mr. Brett smiled pleasantly, and rubbed his hands.
+
+"I see that it's a shock to you, Mr. Heron," he said. "Well, we can
+understand that. It's natural. Of course you thought Miss Murray a rich
+woman, as we all did, and it is a little disappointing----"
+
+"Your remarks are offensive, sir, most offensive," said Percival, whose
+ire was thoroughly roused by this address. "I will bid you and your
+client good-evening. I have no more to say."
+
+He made for the door, but Dino interposed.
+
+"It is my turn now, I think, Mr. Heron. You insisted upon my coming
+here: I must insist now upon your seeing the documents I have to show
+you, and hearing what I have to say." And with a sharp click he turned
+the key in the lock, and stood with his back against the door.
+
+"Tut, tut, tut!" said Mr. Brett; "there is no need to lock the door, no
+need of violence, Mr. Luttrell." In spite of himself, Percival started
+when he heard that name applied to the young monk before him. "Let the
+matter be settled amicably, by all means. You come from the young lady;
+you have authority to act for her, have you, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"No," said Percival, sullenly. "She knows nothing about it."
+
+"This is an informal interview," said Dino. "Mr. Heron refused to
+believe that you had undertaken my case, Mr. Brett, until he heard the
+fact from your own lips. I trust that he is now satisfied on that point,
+at any rate."
+
+"Mr. Brett is an old acquaintance of mine. I have no reason to doubt his
+sincerity," said Percival, shortly and stiffly.
+
+If Dino had hoped for anything like an apology, he was much mistaken.
+Percival's temper was rampant still.
+
+"Then," said Dino, quitting the door, with the key in his hand, "we may
+as well proceed to look at those papers of mine, Mr. Brett. There can be
+no objection to Mr. Heron's seeing them, I suppose?"
+
+The lawyer made some objections, but ended by producing from a black
+box, a bundle of papers, amongst which were the signed and witnessed
+confessions of Vincenza Vasari and a woman named Rosa Naldi, who had
+helped in the exchange of the children. Mr. Brett would not allow these
+papers to go out of his own hands, but he showed them to Percival,
+expounded their contents, and made comments upon the evidence, remarking
+amongst other things that Vincenza Vasari herself was expected in
+England in a week or two, Padre Cristoforo having taken charge of her,
+and undertaken to produce her at the fitting time.
+
+"The evidence seems to be very conclusive," said Mr. Brett, with a
+pleasant smile. "In fact, Miss Murray has no case at all, and I dare say
+her legal adviser will know what advice to give her, Mr. Heron. Is there
+any question that you would like to ask?"
+
+"No," said Percival, rising from his chair and glancing at Dino, who had
+stood by without speaking, throughout the lawyer's exposition of the
+papers. Then, very ungraciously: "I suppose I owe this gentleman in
+ecclesiastical attire--I hardly know what to call him--some sort of
+apology. I see that I was mistaken in what I said."
+
+"My dear sir, I am sure Mr. Luttrell will make allowance for words
+spoken in the heat of the moment. No doubt it was a shock to you," said
+Mr. Brett, with ready sympathy, for which Percival hated him in his
+heart. His brow contracted, and he might have said something uncivil had
+Dino not come forward with a few quiet words, which diverted him from
+his purpose.
+
+"If Mr. Heron thinks that he was mistaken," he said, "he will not refuse
+now to hear what I wished to say before we left his house. It will be
+simple justice to listen to me."
+
+"Very well," answered Percival, frowning and looking down. "I will
+listen."
+
+"Could we, for a few moments only, have a private room?" said Dino to
+Mr. Brett, with some embarrassment.
+
+"You won't want me again?" said that cheerful gentleman, locking his
+desk. "Then, if you won't think me uncivil, I'll leave you altogether.
+My clerk is in the outer room, if you require him. I have a dinner
+engagement at eight o'clock which I should like to keep. Good-bye, Mr.
+Heron; sorry for your disappointment. Good-bye, Mr. Luttrell; I wish you
+wouldn't don that monkish dress of yours. It makes you look so
+un-English, you know. And, after all, you are not a monk, and never will
+be."
+
+"Do not be too sure of that," said Dino, smiling.
+
+Mr. Brett departed, and the two young men were left together. Percival
+was standing, vexation and impatience visible in every line of his
+handsome features. He gave his shoulders a shrug as the door closed
+behind Mr. Brett, and turned to the fire.
+
+"And now, Mr. Heron," said Dino, "will you listen to my proposition?" He
+spoke in Italian, not English, and Percival replied in the same
+language.
+
+"I have said I would listen."
+
+"It refers to Brian Luttrell--the man who has borne that name so long
+that I think he should still be called by it."
+
+"Ah! You have proved to me that Mr. Brett believes your story, and you
+have shown me that your case is a plausible one; but you have not proved
+to me that the man Stretton is identical with Brian Luttrell."
+
+"It is not necessary that that should be proved just now. It can be
+proved; but we will pass over that point, if you please. I am sorry that
+what I have to say trenches somewhat on your private and personal
+affairs, Mr. Heron. I can only entreat your patience for a little time.
+Your marriage with Miss Murray----"
+
+"Need that be dragged into the discussion?"
+
+"It is exactly the point on which I wish to speak."
+
+"Indeed." Percival pulled the lawyer's arm-chair towards him, seated
+himself, and pulled his moustache. "I understand. You are Mr. Stretton's
+emissary!"
+
+"His emissary! No." The denial was sharply spoken. It was with a
+softening touch of emotion that Dino added--"I doubt whether he will
+easily forgive me. I have betrayed him. He does not dream that I would
+tell his secret."
+
+"Are you friendly with him, then?"
+
+"We are as brothers."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"In London."
+
+"Not gone to America then?"
+
+"Not yet. He starts in a few days, if not delayed. I am trying to keep
+him back."
+
+"I knew that his pretence of going was a lie!" muttered Percival. "Of
+course, he never intended to leave the country!"
+
+"Pardon me," said Dino, who had heard more than was quite meant for his
+ears. "The word 'lie' should never be uttered in connection with any of
+Brian's words or actions. He is the soul of honour."
+
+Percival sneered bitterly. "As is shown----" he began, and then stopped
+short. But Dino understood.
+
+"As is shown," he said, steadily, "by the fact that when he learnt,
+almost in the same moment, that Miss Murray was the person who had
+inherited his property, and that she was promised in marriage to
+yourself, he left the house in which she lived, and resolved to see her
+face no more. Was there no sense of honour shown in this? For he loved
+her as his own soul."
+
+"Upon my word," explained Percival, with unconcealed annoyance, "you
+seem to know a great deal about Miss Murray's affairs and mine,
+Mr.--Mr.--Vasari. I am flattered by the interest they excite; but I
+don't see exactly what good is to come of it. I knew of Mr. Stretton's
+proposal long ago: a very insolent one, I considered it."
+
+"Let me ask you a plain question, Mr. Heron. You love Miss Murray, do
+you not?"
+
+"If I do," said Heron, haughtily, "it is not a question that I am
+disposed to answer at present."
+
+"You love Miss Murray," said Dino, as if the question had been answered
+in the affirmative, "and there is nothing on earth so dear to me as my
+friend Brian Luttrell. It may seem strange to you that it should be so;
+but it is true. I have no wish to take his place in Scotland----"
+
+"Then what are you doing in Mr. Brett's office?" asked Percival,
+bluntly.
+
+For the first time Dino showed some embarrassment.
+
+"I have been to blame," he said, hanging his head. "I was forced into
+this position--by others; and I had not the strength to free myself. But
+I will not wrong Brian any longer."
+
+"If your story is proved, it will not be wronging Brian or anybody else
+to claim your rights. Take the Luttrell property, by all means, if it
+belongs to you. We shall do very well without it."
+
+"Yes," said Dino, almost in a whisper, "you will do very well without
+it, if you are sure that she loves you."
+
+Percival sat erect in his chair and looked Dino in the face with an
+expression which, for the first time, was devoid of scorn or anger. It
+was almost one of dread; it was certainly the look of one who prepares
+himself to receive a shock.
+
+"What have you to tell me?" he said, in an unusually quiet voice. "Is
+she deceiving me? Is she corresponding with him? Have they made you
+their confidant?"
+
+"No, no," cried Dino, earnestly. "How can you think so of a woman with a
+face like hers, of a man with a soul like Brian's? Even he has told me
+little; but he has told me more than he knows--and I have guessed the
+rest. If I had not known before, your face would have told me all."
+
+"Tricked!" said Percival, falling back in his chair with a gesture of
+disgust. "I might have known as much. Well, sir, you are wrong. And Miss
+Murray's feelings are not to be canvassed in this way."
+
+"You are right," said Dino; "we will not speak of her. We will speak of
+Brian, of my friend. He is not happy. He is very brave, but he is
+unhappy, too. Are we to rob him of both the things which might make his
+happiness? Are you to marry the woman that he loves, and am I to take to
+myself his inheritance?"
+
+"Hardly to be called his inheritance, I think," said Percival, in a
+parenthetic way, "if he was the child of one Vincenza Vasari, and not of
+the Luttrells."
+
+"I have my proposals to make," said Dino again lowering his voice. A
+nervous flush crept up to his forehead: his lips twitched behind the
+thin fingers with which he had partly covered them: the fingers
+trembled, too. Percival noted these signs of emotion without seeming to
+do so: he waited with some curiosity for the proposition. It startled
+him when it came. "I have been thinking that it would be better," said
+Dino, so simply and naturally that one would never have supposed that he
+was indicating a path of stern self-sacrifice, "if I were to withdraw
+all my claims to the estate, and you to relinquish Miss Murray's hand to
+Brian, then things would fall into their proper places, and he would not
+go to America."
+
+Percival stared at him for a full minute before he seemed quite to
+understand all that was implied in this proposal; then he burst into a
+fit of scornful laughter.
+
+"This is too absurd!" he cried. "Am I to give her up tamely because Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, as you call him, wishes to marry her? I am not so
+anxious to secure Mr. Brian Luttrell's happiness."
+
+"But you wish to secure Miss Murray's, do you not?"
+
+Percival became suddenly silent. Dino went on persuasively.
+
+"I care little for the money and the lands which they say would be mine.
+My greatest wish in life is to become a monk. That is why I put on the
+gown that I used to wear, although I have taken no vows upon me yet, but
+I came to you in the spirit of one to whom earthly things are dead. Let
+me give up this estate to Brian, and make him happy with the woman that
+he loves. When he is married to Elizabeth you shall never see my face
+again."
+
+"This is your proposition?" said Percival, after a little pause.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If I give up Elizabeth"--he forgot that he had not meant to call her by
+her Christian name in Dino Vasari's presence--"you will give up your
+claim to the property?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And if I refuse, what will you do?"
+
+"Fight the matter out by the help of the lawyers," said Dino, with an
+irrepressible flash of his dark eyes. And then there was another pause,
+during which Percival knitted his brows and gazed into the fire, and
+Dino never took his eyes from the other's face.
+
+"Well, I refuse," said Percival at last, getting up and walking about
+the room, with an air of being more angry than he really was. "I will
+have none of your crooked Italian ways. Fair play is the best way of
+managing this matter. I refuse to carry out my share of this 'amicable
+arrangement,' as Brett would call it. Let us fight it out. Every man for
+himself, and the devil take the hindmost."
+
+The last sentence was an English one.
+
+"But what satisfaction will the fight give to anybody?" said Dino,
+earnestly. "For myself--I may gain the estate--I probably shall do
+so--and what use shall I make of it? I might give it, perhaps, to Brian,
+but what pleasure would it be to him if she married you? Miss Murray
+will be left in poverty."
+
+"And do you think she will care for that? Do you think I should care?"
+
+"Money is a good thing: it is not well to despise it," said Dino. "Think
+what you are doing. If you refuse my proposition you deprive Miss Murray
+of her estate, and--I leave you to decide whether you deprive her of her
+happiness."
+
+"Miss Murray can refuse me if she chooses," said Percival, shortly. "I
+should be a great fool if I handed her over at your recommendation to a
+man that I know nothing about. Besides, you could not do it. This
+Italian friend of yours, this Prior of San Stefano, would not let the
+matter fall through. He and Brett would bring forward the witnesses----"
+
+Dino turned his eyes slowly upon him with a curiously subtle look.
+
+"No," he said. "I have received news to-day which puts the matter
+completely in my own hands. Vincenza Vasari is dead: Rosa Naldi is
+dying. They were in a train when a railway accident took place. They
+will never be able to appear as witnesses."
+
+"But they made depositions----"
+
+"Yes. I believe these depositions would establish the case. But
+depositions are written upon paper, and hearsay evidence is not
+admitted. Nobody could prove it, if I did not wish it to be proved."
+
+"I doubt whether it could be proved at all," said Percival,
+hesitatingly. "Of course, it would make Miss Murray uncomfortable. And
+if that other Brian Luttrell is living still, the money would go back to
+him. Would he divide it with you, do you think, if he got it, even as
+you would share it all with him?"
+
+"I believe so," answered Dino. "But I should not want it--unless it were
+to give to the monastery; and San Stefano is already rich. A monk has no
+wants."
+
+"But I am not a monk. There lies the unfairness of your proposal. You
+give up what you care for very little: I am to give up what is dearer
+than the whole world to me. No; I won't do it. It's absurd."
+
+"Is this your answer, Mr. Heron?" said Dino. "Will you sacrifice Brian's
+happiness--I say nothing of her's, for you understand her best--for your
+own?"
+
+"Yes, I will," Percival declared, roundly. "No man is called upon to
+give up his life for another without good reason. Your friend is nothing
+to me. I'll get what I can out of the world for myself. It is little
+enough, but I cannot be expected to surrender it for some ridiculous
+notion of unselfishness. I never professed to be unselfish in my life.
+Mr. Stretton is a man to whom I owe a grudge. I acknowledge it."
+
+Dino sighed heavily. The shade of disappointment upon his face was so
+deep that Heron felt some pity for him--all the more because he believed
+that the monk was destined to deeper disappointment still. He turned to
+him with almost a friendly look.
+
+"You can't expect extraordinary motives from an ordinary man like me,"
+he said. "I must say in all fairness that you have made a generous
+proposal. If I spoke too violently and hastily, I hope you will overlook
+it. I was rather beside myself with rage--though not with the sort of
+regret which Mr. Brett kindly attributes to me."
+
+"I understood that," said Dino.
+
+By a sudden impulse Percival held out his hand. It was a strong
+testimony to Dino's earnestness and simplicity of character that the two
+parted friends after such a stormy interview.
+
+As they went out of the office together Percival said, abruptly:--
+
+"Where are you staying?"
+
+Dino named the place.
+
+"With the man you call Brian Luttrell?"
+
+"With Brian Luttrell."
+
+"What is the next thing you mean to do?"
+
+"I must tell Brian that I have betrayed his secret."
+
+"Oh, he won't be very angry with you for that!" laughed Percival.
+
+Dino shook his head. He was not so sure.
+
+As soon as they had separated, Percival went off at a swinging pace for
+a long walk. It was his usual way of getting rid of annoyance or
+excitement; and he was vexed to find that he could not easily shake off
+the effects that his conversation with Dino Vasari had produced upon his
+mind. The unselfishness, the devotion, of this man--younger than
+himself, with a brilliant future before him if only he chose to take
+advantage of it--appealed powerfully to his imagination. He tried to
+laugh at it: he called Dino hard names--"Quixotic fool," "dreamer," and
+"enthusiast"--but he could not forget that an ideal of conduct had been
+presented to his eyes, which was far higher than any which he should
+have thought possible for himself, and by a man upon whose profession of
+faith and calling he looked with profound contempt.
+
+He tried to disbelieve the story that he had been told. He tried hard to
+think that the man whom Elizabeth loved could not be Brian Luttrell. He
+strove to convince himself that Elizabeth would be happier with him than
+with the man she loved. Last of all he struggled desperately with the
+conviction that it was his highest duty to tell her the whole story, set
+her free, and let Brian marry her if he chose. With the respective
+claims of Dino, Brian, and Elizabeth to the estate, he felt that he had
+no need to interfere. They must settle it amongst themselves.
+
+Of one thing he wanted to make sure. Was the tutor who had come with the
+Herons from Italy indeed Brian Luttrell? How could he ascertain?
+
+Chance favoured him, he thought. On the following morning he met Hugo
+Luttrell in town, and accosted him with unusual eagerness.
+
+"I've an odd question to ask you," he said, "but I have a strong reason
+for it. You saw the tutor at Strathleckie when you were in Scotland?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo, looking at him restlessly out of his long, dark eyes.
+
+"Had you any idea that Stretton was not his real name?"
+
+Hugo paused before he replied.
+
+"It is rather an odd question, certainly," he said, with a temporising
+smile. "May I ask what you want to know for?"
+
+"I was told that he came to the house under a feigned name: that's all."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"Oh, a person who knew him."
+
+"An Italian? A priest?"
+
+Hugo was thinking of the possibility of Father Christoforo's having made
+his way to England.
+
+"Yes," said Percival, dubiously. "A Benedictine monk, I believe. He
+hinted that you knew Stretton's real name."
+
+"Quite a mistake," said Hugo. "I know nothing about him. But your priest
+sounds romantic. An old fellow, isn't he, with grey hair?"
+
+"Not at all: young and slight, with dark eyes and rather a finely-cut
+face. Calls himself Dino Vasari or some such name."
+
+Hugo started: a yellowish pallor overspread his face. For a moment he
+stopped short in the street: then hurried on so fast that Percival was
+left a few steps behind.
+
+"What's the matter? So you know him?" said Heron, overtaking him by a
+few vigorous strides.
+
+"A little. He's the biggest scoundrel I ever met," replied Hugo,
+slackening his pace and trying to speak easily. "I was surprised at his
+being in England, that was all. Do you know where he lives, that I may
+avoid the street!" he added, laughing.
+
+Percival told him, wondering at his evident agitation.
+
+"Then you can't tell me anything about Stretton?" he said, as they came
+to a building which he was about to enter.
+
+"Nothing. Wish I could," said Hugo, turning away.
+
+"So he escaped, after all!" he murmured to himself, as he walked down
+the street, with an occasional nervous glance to the right and left. "I
+thought I had done my work effectually: I did not know I was such a
+bungler. Does he guess who attacked him, I wonder? I suppose not, or I
+should have heard of the matter before now. Fortunate that I took the
+precaution of drugging him first. What an escape! And he has got hold of
+Heron! I shall have to make sure of the old lady pretty soon, or I
+foresee that Netherglen--and Kitty--never will be mine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.
+
+
+In a little room on the second-floor of a London lodging-house near
+Manchester-square, Brian Luttrell was packing a box, with the few scanty
+possessions that he called his own. He had little light to see by, for
+the slender, tallow candle burnt with a very uncertain flame: the glare
+of the gas lamps in the street gave almost a better light. The floor was
+uncarpeted, the furniture scanty and poor: the fire in the grate
+smouldered miserably, and languished for want of fuel. But there was a
+contented look on Brian's face. He even whistled and hummed to himself
+as he packed his box, and though the tune broke down, and ended with a
+sigh, it showed a mind more at ease than Brian's had been for many a
+long day.
+
+"Heigho!" he said, rising from his task, and giving the box a shove with
+his foot into a corner, "I wonder where Dino is? He ought not to be out
+so late with that cough of his. I suppose he has gone to Brett and
+Grattan's. I am glad the dear fellow has put himself into their hands.
+Right ought to be done: she would have said so herself, and I know Dino
+will be generous. It would suit him very well to take a money
+compensation, and let her continue to reign, with glories somewhat
+shorn, however, at Strathleckie. I am afraid he will do nothing but
+enrich San Stefano with his inheritance. He certainly will not settle
+down at Netherglen as a country squire.
+
+"What will my mother say? Pooh! I must get out of that habit of calling
+her my mother. She is no relation of mine, as she herself told me. Mrs.
+Luttrell!--it sounds a little odd. Odder, too, to think that I must
+never sign myself Brian Luttrell any more. Bernardino Vasari! I think I
+might as well stick to the plain John Stretton, which I adopted on the
+spur of the moment at San Stefano. I suppose I shall soon have to meet
+the woman who calls herself--who is--my mother. I will say nothing harsh
+or unkind to her, poor thing! She has done herself a greater injury than
+she has done me."
+
+So he meditated, with his face bent over his folded arms upon the
+mantelpiece. A slow step on the stair roused him, he poked the fire
+vigorously, lighted another candle, and then opened the door.
+
+"Is that you, Dino?" he said. "Where have you been for the last three
+hours?"
+
+Dino it was. He came in without speaking, and dropped into a chair, as
+if exhausted with fatigue. Brian repeated his question, but when Dino
+tried to answer it, a fit of coughing choked his words. It lasted
+several minutes, and left him panting, with the perspiration standing in
+great beads upon his brow.
+
+With a grave and anxious face Brian brought him some water, wrapped a
+cloak round his shaking shoulders, and stood by him, waiting for the
+paroxysm of coughing to abate. Dino's cough was seldom more than the
+little hacking one, which the wound in his side seemed to have left, but
+it was always apt to grow worse in cold or foggy weather, and at times
+increased to positive violence. Brian, who had visited him regularly
+while he was in hospital, and nursed him with a woman's tenderness as
+soon as he was discharged from it, had never known it to be so bad as it
+was on this occasion.
+
+"You've been overdoing yourself, old fellow," he said, affectionately,
+when Dino was able to look up and smile. "You have been out too late.
+And this den of mine is not the place for you. You must clear out of it
+as soon as you can."
+
+"Not as long as you are here," said Dino.
+
+"That was all very well as long as we could remain unknown. But now that
+Brett and Grattan consent to take up your case, as I knew they would all
+along, they will want to see you: your friends and relations will want
+to visit you; and you must not be found here with me. I'll settle you in
+new lodgings before I sail. There's a comfortable place in Piccadilly
+that I used to know, with a landlady who is honest and kind."
+
+"Too expensive for me," Dino murmured, with a pleasant light in his
+eyes, as Brian made preparations for their evening meal, with a skill
+acquired by recent practice.
+
+"You forget that your expenses will be paid out of the estate," said
+Brian, "in the long run. Did not Brett offer to advance you funds if you
+wanted them?"
+
+"Yes, and I declined them. I had enough from Father Christoforo,"
+answered Dino, rather faintly. "I did not like to run the risk of
+spending what I might not be able to repay."
+
+"Brett would not have offered you money if he did not feel very sure of
+his case. There can be no doubt of that," said Brian, as he set two
+cracked tea-cups on the table, and produced a couple of chops and a
+frying-pan from a cupboard. "You need not be afraid."
+
+For some minutes the sound of hissing and spluttering that came from the
+frying-pan effectually prevented any further attempts at conversation.
+When the cooking was over, Dino again addressed his friend.
+
+"Do you want to know what I have been doing?"
+
+"Yes, I mean you to give an account of yourself. But not until you have
+had some food. Eat and drink first; then talk."
+
+Dino smiled and came to the table. But he had no appetite: he swallowed
+a few mouthfuls, evidently to please Brian only; then went back to the
+solitary arm-chair by the fire, and closed his eyes.
+
+Brian did not disturb him. It was plain that Dino, not yet strong after
+his accident, had wearied himself out. He was glad, however, when the
+young man roused himself from a light and fitful doze, and said in his
+naturally tranquil voice:--
+
+"I am ready to give an account of myself, as you call it, now."
+
+"Then tell me," said Brian, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, and
+looking down upon the pale, somewhat emaciated countenance, with a
+tender smile, "what you mean by going about London in a dress which I
+thought that you had renounced for ever?"
+
+"It only means," said Dino, returning the smile, "that you were
+mistaken. I had not renounced it, and I think that I shall keep to it
+now."
+
+"You can hardly do that in your position," said Brian, quietly.
+
+"My position! What is that to me? 'I had rather be a door-keeper in the
+house of the Lord'--you know what I mean: I have said it all to you
+before. If I go back to Italy, Brian, and the case falls through, as it
+may do through lack of witnesses, will you not take your own again?"
+
+"And turn out Miss Murray? Certainly not." Then, after a pause, Brian
+asked, rather sternly, "What do you mean by the lack of witnesses? There
+are plenty of witnesses. There is--my--my mother--for one."
+
+"No. She is dead."
+
+"Dead. Vincenza Vasari dead?"
+
+Dino recounted to him briefly enough the details of the catastrophe, but
+acknowledged, in reply to his quick questions, that there was no
+necessity for his claim to be given up on account of the death of these
+two persons. Mr. Brett, with whom he had conferred before visiting
+Percival Heron, had assured him that there could be no doubt of his
+identity with the child whom Mrs. Luttrell had given Vincenza to nurse;
+and, knowing the circumstances, he thought it probable that the law-suit
+would be an amicable one, and that Miss Murray would consent to a
+compromise. All this, Dino repeated, though with some reluctance, to his
+friend.
+
+"You see, Brian," he continued, "there will be no reason for your hiding
+yourself if my case is proved. You would not be turning out Miss Murray
+or anybody else. You would be my friend, my brother, my helper. Will you
+not stay in England and be all this to me? I ask you, as I have asked
+you many times before, but I ask it now for the last time. Stay with me,
+and let it be no secret that you are living still."
+
+"I can't do it, Dino. I must go. You promised not to ask it of me again,
+dear old fellow."
+
+"Let me come with you, then. We will both leave Miss Murray to enjoy her
+inheritance in peace."
+
+"No, that would not be just."
+
+"Just! What do I care for justice?" said Dino, indignantly, while his
+eyes grew dark and his cheeks crimson with passionate feeling. "I care
+for you, for her, for the happiness of you both. Can I do nothing
+towards it?"
+
+"Nothing, I think, Dino mio."
+
+"But you will stay with me until you go? You will not cast me off as you
+have cast off your other friends? Promise me."
+
+"I promise you, Dino," said Brian, laying his hand soothingly on the
+other's shoulder. It seemed to him that Dino must be suffering from
+fever; that he was taking a morbidly exaggerated view of matters. But
+his next words showed that his excitement proceeded from no merely
+physical cause.
+
+"I have done you no harm, at any rate," he said, rising and holding
+Brian's hand between his own. "I have made up my mind. I will have none
+of this inheritance. It shall either be yours or hers. I do not want it.
+And I have taken the first step towards ridding myself of it."
+
+"What have you done?" said Brian.
+
+"Will you ever forgive me?" asked Dino, looking half-sadly,
+half-doubtfully, into his face. "I am not sure that you ever will. I
+have betrayed you. I have said that you were alive."
+
+Brian's face first turned red, then deathly pale. He withdrew his hand
+from Dino's grasp, and took a backward step.
+
+"You!" he said, in a stifled voice. "You! whom I thought to be my
+friend!"
+
+"I am your friend still," said Dino.
+
+Brian resumed his place by the mantelpiece, and played mechanically with
+the ornaments upon it. His face was pale still, but a little smile had
+begun to curve his lips.
+
+"So," he said, slowly, "my deep-laid plans are frustrated, it seems. I
+did not think you would have done this, Dino. I took a good deal of
+trouble with my arrangements."
+
+The tone of gentle satire went to Dino's heart. He looked appealingly at
+Brian, but did not speak.
+
+"You have made me look like a very big fool," said Brian, quietly, "and
+all to no purpose. You can't make me stay in England, you know, or
+present myself to be recognised by Mrs. Luttrell, and old Colquhoun. I
+shall vanish to South America under another name, and leave no trace
+behind, and the only result of your communication will be to disturb
+people's minds a little, and to make them suppose that I had repented of
+my very harmless deception, and was trying to get money out of you and
+Miss Murray."
+
+"Nobody would think so who knows you."
+
+"Who does know me? Not even you, Dino, if you think I would take
+advantage of what you have said to-night. Go to-morrow, and tell Brett
+that you were mistaken. It is Brett you have told, of course."
+
+"It is not Brett."
+
+"Who then?"
+
+"Mr. Percival Heron," said Dino, looking him steadily in the face.
+
+Brian drew himself up into an upright posture, with an ejaculation of
+astonishment. "Good Heavens, Dino! What have you been doing?"
+
+"My duty," answered Dino.
+
+"Your duty! Good Heavens!--unpardonable interference I should call it
+from any one but you. You don't understand the ways of the world! How
+should you, fresh from a Romish seminary? But you should understand that
+it is wiser, safer, not to meddle with the affairs of other people."
+
+"Your affairs are mine," said Dino, with his eyes on the ground.
+
+Brian laughed bitterly. "Hardly, I think. I have given no one any
+authority to act for me. I may manage my affairs badly, but on the whole
+I must manage them for myself."
+
+"I knew that I should have to bear your reproaches," said Dino, with
+folded arms and downcast eyes. Then, after a pause, during which Brian
+walked up and down the room impatiently, he added in a lower tone, "But
+I did not think that they would have been so bitter."
+
+Brian stopped short and looked at him, then came and laid his hand
+gently on his shoulder. "Poor Dino!" he said, "I ought to remember how
+unlike all the rest of the world you are. Forgive me. I did not mean to
+hurt you. No doubt you thought that you were acting for the best."
+
+Dino looked up, and met the somewhat melancholy kindness of Brian's
+gaze. His heart was already full: his impulsive nature was longing to
+assert itself: with one great sob he threw his arms round Brian's neck,
+and fell weeping upon his shoulder.
+
+"But, my dear Dino," said Brian, when the storm (the reason of which he
+understood very imperfectly) had subsided, "you must see that this
+communication of my secret to Mr. Heron will make a difference in my
+plans."
+
+"What difference?"
+
+"I must start to-morrow instead of next week."
+
+"No, Brian, no."
+
+"I must, indeed. Heron will tell your story to Brett, to Colquhoun, to
+Mrs. Luttrell, to Miss Murray. He may have telegraphed it already. It is
+very important to him, because, you see," said Brian, with a sad
+half-smile, "he is going to marry Miss Murray, and, unless he knows your
+history, he will think that my existence will deprive her of her
+fortune."
+
+"I do not believe he will tell your story to anyone."
+
+"Dino, caro mio! Heron is a man of honour. He can do nothing less,
+unfortunately."
+
+"I think he will do less. I think that no word of what I have told him
+will pass his lips."
+
+"It would be impossible for him to keep silence," remarked Brian,
+coldly, and Dino said nothing more.
+
+It was after a long silence, when the candle had died out, and the fire
+had grown so dim that they could not see each other's faces, that Brian
+said in a low, but quiet tone--
+
+"Did you tell him why I left Strathleckie?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+Brian suppressed a vexed exclamation. It was no use trying to make Dino
+understand his position.
+
+"What did he say?" he asked.
+
+"He knew already."
+
+"Ah! Yes. So I should have supposed." And there the conversation ended.
+
+Long after Dino was tranquilly sleeping, Brian Luttrell sat by the
+ricketty round table in the middle of the room labouring at the
+composition of one or two letters, which seemed very difficult to write.
+Sheet after sheet was torn up and thrown aside. The grey dawn was
+creeping in at the window before the last word was written, and the
+letters placed within their respective envelopes. Slowly and carefully
+he wrote the address of the longest letter--wrote it, as he thought, for
+the last time--Mrs. Luttrell, Netherglen, Dunmuir. Then he stole quietly
+out of the house, and slipped it into the nearest pillar-box. The other
+letter--a few lines merely--he put in his pocket, unaddressed. On his
+return he entered the tiny slip of a room which Dino occupied, fearing
+lest his movements should have disturbed the sleeper. But Dino had not
+stirred. Brian stood and looked at him for a little while, thinking of
+the circumstances in which they had first met, of the strange bond which
+subsisted between them, and lastly of the curious betrayal of his
+confidence, so unlike Dino's usual conduct, which Brian charitably set
+down to ignorance of English customs and absence of English reserve. He
+guessed no finer motive, and his mouth curled with an irrepressible, if
+somewhat mournful, smile, as he turned away, murmuring to himself:--
+
+"I have had my revenge."
+
+He did not leave England next day. Dino's entreaties weighed with him;
+and he knew also that he himself had acted in a way which was likely to
+nullify his friend's endeavours to reinstate him in his old position. He
+waited with more curiosity than apprehension for the letter, the
+telegram, the visit, that would assure him of Percival's uprightness.
+For Brian had no doubt in his own mind as to what Percival Heron ought
+to do. If he learnt that Brian Luttrell was still living, he ought to
+communicate the fact to Mr. Colquhoun at least. And if Mr. Colquhoun
+were the kindly old man that he used to be, he would probably hasten to
+London to shake hands once more with the boy that he had known and loved
+in early days. Brian was so certain of this that he caught himself
+listening for the door-bell, and rehearsing the sentences with which he
+should excuse his conduct to his kind, old friend.
+
+But two days passed away, and he watched in vain. No message, no
+visitor, came to show him that Percival Heron had told the story.
+Perhaps, however, he had written it in a letter. Brian silently
+calculated the time that a letter and its answer would take. He found
+that by post it was not possible to get a reply until an hour after the
+time at which he was to start.
+
+In those two days Dino had an interview with Mr. Brett, from which he
+returned looking anxious and uneasy. He told Brian, however, nothing of
+its import, and Brian did not choose to ask. The day and the hour of
+Brian's departure came without further conversation between them on the
+subject which was, perhaps, nearer than any other to their hearts. Dino
+wanted to accompany his friend to the ship by which he was to sail: but
+Brian steadily refused to let him do so. It was strange to see the
+relation between these two. In spite of his youth, Dino usually inspired
+a feeling of respect in the minds of other men: his peculiarly grave and
+tranquil manner made him appear older and more experienced than he
+really was. But with Brian, he fell naturally into the position of a
+younger brother: he seemed to take a delight in leaning upon Brian's
+judgment, and surrendering his own will. He had been brought up to
+depend upon others in this way all through his life; but Brian saw
+clearly enough that the habit was contrary to his native temperament,
+and that, when once freed from the leading-strings in which he had
+hitherto been kept, he would certainly prove himself a man of remarkably
+strong and clear judgment. It was this conviction that caused Brian to
+persist in his intention of going to South America: Dino would do better
+when left to himself, than when leaning upon Brian, as his affection led
+him to do.
+
+"You will come back," said Dino, in a tone that admitted of no
+contradiction. "I know you will come back."
+
+"Dino mio, you will come to see me some day, perhaps," said Brian.
+"Listen. I leave their future in your care. Do you understand? Make it
+possible for them to be happy."
+
+"I will do what is possible to bring you home again."
+
+"Caro mio, that is not possible," said Brian. "Do not try. You see this
+letter? Keep it until I have been an hour gone; then open it. Will you
+promise me that?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"And now good-bye. Success and good fortune to you," said Brian, trying
+to smile. "When we meet again----"
+
+"Shall we ever meet again?" said Dino, with one arm round Brian's neck,
+with his eyes looking straight into Brian's, with a look of pathetic
+longing which his friend never could forget. "Or is it a last farewell?
+Brother--my brother--God bless thee, and bring thee home at last." But
+it was of no earthly home that Dino thought.
+
+And then they parted.
+
+It was more than an hour before Dino thought of opening the letter which
+Brian had left with him. It ran as follows:--
+
+"Dino mio, pardon me if I have done wrongly. You told my story and I
+have told yours. I feared lest you, in your generosity, should hide the
+truth, and therefore I have written fully to your mother. Go to her if
+she sends for you, and remember that she has suffered much. I have told
+her that you have the proofs: show them to her, and she will be
+convinced. God bless you, my only friend and brother."
+
+Dino's head dropped upon his hands. Were all his efforts vain to free
+himself from the burden of a wealth which he did not desire? The Prior
+of San Stefano had forced him into the position of a claimant to the
+estate. With his long-formed habits of obedience it seemed impossible to
+gainsay the Prior's will. Here, in England, it was easier. And Dino was
+more and more resolved to take his own way.
+
+A letter was brought to him at that moment. He opened it, and let his
+eyes run mechanically down the sheet. Then he started violently, and
+read it again with more attention. It contained one sentence and a
+signature:--
+
+"If Dino Vasari of San Stefano will visit me at Netherglen, I will hear
+what he has to say.
+
+    "Margaret Luttrell."
+
+Could he have expected more? And yet, to his excited fancy, the words
+seemed cold and hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.
+
+
+There had been solemn council in the house of Netherglen. Mrs. Luttrell
+and Mr. Colquhoun had held long interviews; letters and papers of all
+sorts had been produced and compared; the dressing-room door was closed
+against all comers, and even Angela was excluded. Hugo was once
+summoned, and came away from the conference with the air of a desperate
+man at once baffled and fierce. He lurked about the dark corners of the
+house, as if he were afraid to appear in the light of the day; but he
+took no one into his confidence. Fortune, character, life itself,
+perhaps, seemed to him to be hanging on a thread. For, if Dino Vasari
+remembered his treachery and exposed it, he knew that he should be
+ruined and disgraced. And he was resolved not to survive any such public
+exposure. He would die by his own hand rather than stand in the dock as
+a would-be murderer.
+
+Even if things were not so bad as that, he did not see how he was to
+exonerate himself from another charge; a minor one, indeed, but one
+which might make him look very black in some people's eyes. He had known
+of Dino's claims for many weeks, as well as of Brian's existence. Why
+had he told no one of his discoveries? What if Dino spoke of the tissue
+of lies which he had concocted, the forgery of Brian's handwriting, in
+the interview which they had had in Tarragon-street? Fortunately, Dino
+had burned the letter, and there had been no auditor of the
+conversation. Of course, he must deny that he had known anything of the
+matter. Dino could prove nothing against him; he could only make
+assertions. But assertions were awkward things sometimes.
+
+So Hugo skulked and frowned and listened, and was told nothing definite;
+but saw by the light of previous knowledge that there was great
+excitement in the bosoms of his aunt and the family lawyer. There were
+letters and telegrams sent off, and Hugo was disgusted to find that he
+could not catch sight of their addresses, much less of their contents.
+Mr. Colquhoun looked gloomy; Mrs. Luttrell sternly exultant. What was
+going on? Was Brian coming home; or was Dino to be recognised in Brian's
+place?
+
+Hugo knew nothing. But one fine autumn morning, as he was standing in
+the garden at Netherglen, he saw a dog-cart turn in at the gate, a
+dog-cart in which four men had with some difficulty squeezed
+themselves--the driver, Mr. Colquhoun, Dino Vasari, and a red-faced man,
+whom Hugo recognised, after a minute's hesitation, as the well-known
+solicitor, Mr. Brett.
+
+Hugo drew back into the shrubbery and waited. He dared not show himself.
+He was trembling in every limb. The hour of his disgrace was drawing
+near.
+
+Should he take advantage of the moment, and leave Netherglen at once, or
+should he wait and face it out? After a little reflection he determined
+to wait. From what he had seen of Dino Vasari he fancied that it would
+not be easy to manage him. Yet he seemed to be a simple-minded youth,
+fresh from the precincts of a monastery: he could surely by degrees be
+cajoled or bullied into silence. If he did accuse Hugo of treachery, it
+was better, perhaps, that the accused should be on the spot to justify
+himself. If only Hugo could see him before the story had been told to
+Mrs. Luttrell!
+
+He loitered about the house for some time, then went to his own room,
+and began to pack up various articles which he should wish to take away
+with him, if Mrs. Luttrell expelled him from the house. At every sound
+upon the stairs, he paused in his occupation and looked around
+nervously. When the luncheon-bell rang he actually dared not go down to
+the dining-room. He summoned a servant, and ordered brandy and water and
+a biscuit, alleging I an attack of illness as an excuse for his
+non-appearance. And, indeed, the suspense and anxiety which he was
+enduring made him feel and look really ill. He was sick with the agony
+of his dread.
+
+The afternoon wore on. His window commanded a view of the drive: he was
+sure that the guests had not yet left the house. It was four o'clock
+when somebody at length approached his door, knocked, and then shook the
+door-handle.
+
+"Hugo! Are you there?" It was Mr. Colquhoun's voice. "Can't you open the
+door?"
+
+Hugo hesitated a moment: then turned the key, leaving Mr. Colquhoun to
+enter if he pleased. He came in looking rather astonished at this mode
+of admittance.
+
+"So! It's sick, you are, is it? Well, I don't exactly wonder at that.
+You've lost your chance of Netherglen, Mr. Hugo Luttrell."
+
+Hugo's face grew livid. He looked to Mr. Colquhoun for explanation, but
+did not speak.
+
+"It's just the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, seating himself in the least comfortable chair the room
+afforded, and rubbing his forehead with a great, red silk-handkerchief.
+"Brian alive, and meeting with the very man who had a claim to the
+estate! Though, of course, if one thinks of it, it is only natural they
+should meet, when Mrs. Luttrell, poor body, had been fool enough to send
+Brian to San Stefano, the very place where the child was brought up. You
+know the story?"
+
+"No," said Hugo. His heart began to beat wildly. Had Dino kept silence
+after all?
+
+Mr. Colquhoun launched forth upon the whole history, to which Hugo
+listened without a word of comment. He was leaning against the
+window-frame, in a position from which he could still see the drive, and
+his face was so white that Mr. Colquhoun at last was struck by its
+pallor.
+
+"Man alive, are you going to faint, Hugo? What's wrong?"
+
+"Nothing. I've had a headache. Then my aunt is satisfied as to the
+genuineness of this claim?"
+
+"Satisfied! She's more than satisfied," said the old lawyer, with a
+groan. "I doubt myself whether the court will see the matter in the same
+light. If Miss Murray, or if Brian Luttrell, would make a good fight, I
+don't believe this Italian fellow would win the case. He might. Brett
+says he would; But Brian--God bless him! he might have told me he was
+living still--Brian has gone off to America, poor lad! and Elizabeth
+Murray--well, I'll make her fight, if I can, but I doubt--I doubt."
+
+"My aunt wants this fellow to have Strathleckie and Netherglen, too,
+then?"
+
+"Yes, she does; so you are cut out there, Hugo. Don't build on
+Netherglen, if Margaret Luttrell's own son is living. I must be going:
+Brett's to dine with me. I used to know him in London."
+
+"Is Dino Vasari staying here, then?"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun raised a warning finger. "You'll have to learn to call him
+by another name, if he stays in this house, young man," he said. "He
+declines to be called Brian--he has that much good sense--but it seems
+that Dino is short for Bernardino, or some such mouthful, and we're to
+call him Bernard to avoid confusion. Bernard Luttrell--humph!--I don't
+know whether he will stay the night or not. We met Miss Murray on our
+way up. The young man looked at her uncommonly hard, and asked who she
+was. I think he was rather struck with her. Good-bye, Hugo; take care of
+yourself, and don't be too downhearted. Poor Brian always told me to
+look after you, and I will." But the assurance did not carry the
+consolation to Hugo's mind which Mr. Colquhoun intended.
+
+The two lawyers drove away to Dunmuir together. Hugo watched the red
+lamps of the dog-cart down the road, and then turned away from the
+window with a gnawing sense of anxiety, which grew more imperious every
+moment. He felt that he must do something to relieve it. He knew where
+the interview with Dino was taking place. Mrs. Luttrell had lately been
+growing somewhat infirm: a slight stroke of paralysis, dangerous only in
+that it was probably the precursor of other attacks, had rendered
+locomotion particularly distasteful to her. She did not like to feel
+that she was dependent upon others for aid, and, therefore, sat usually
+in a wheeled chair in her dressing-room, and it was the most easily
+accessible room from her sleeping apartment. She was in her
+dressing-room now, and Dino Vasari was with her.
+
+Hugo stole quietly through the passage until he reached the door of Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room, which was ajar. He slipped into the room and looked
+round. It was dimly lighted by the red glow of the fire, and by this dim
+light he saw that the door into the dressing-room was also not quite
+closed. He could hear the sound of voices. He paused a moment, and then
+advanced. There was a high screen near the door, of which one fold was
+so close to the wall that only a slight figure could slip behind it,
+though, when once behind there, it would be entirely hidden. Hugo
+measured it with his eye: he would have to pass the aperture of the door
+to reach it, but a cautious glance from a distance assured him that both
+Mrs. Luttrell and Dino had their backs to him and could not see. He
+ensconced himself, therefore, between the screen and the wall: he could
+see nothing, but every word fell distinctly upon his ear.
+
+"Sit down beside me," Mrs. Luttrell was saying--how could her voice have
+grown so tender?--"and tell me everything about your past life. I
+knew--I always knew--that that other child was not my son. I have my own
+Brian now. Call me mother: it is long since I have heard the word."
+
+"Mother!" Dino's musical tones were tremulous. "My mother! I have
+thought of her all my life."
+
+"Ay, my poor son, and but for the wickedness of others, I might have
+seen and known you years ago. I had an interloper in my house throughout
+all those years, and he worked me the bitterest sorrow of my life."
+
+"Do not speak so of Brian, mother," said Dino, gently. "He loved
+you--and he loved Richard. His loss--his grief--has been greater even
+than yours."
+
+"How dare you say so to me?" said Mrs. Luttrell, with a momentary return
+to her old, grim tones. Then, immediately softening them--"But you may
+say anything you like. It is pleasure enough to hear your voice. You
+must stay with me, Brian, and let me feast my eyes on you for a time. I
+have no patience, no moderation left: 'my son was dead and is alive
+again, he was lost and is found.'"
+
+He raised his mother's hand and kissed it silently. The action would, of
+course, have been lost upon Hugo, as he could not see the pair, but for
+Mrs. Luttrell's next words.
+
+"Nay," she said, "kiss me on the cheek, not on the hand, Brian. I let
+Hugo Luttrell do it, because of his foreign blood; but you have only a
+foreign training which you must forget. They said something about your
+wearing a priest's dress: I am glad you did not wear it here, for you
+would have been mobbed in Dunmuir. It's a sad pity that you're a Papist,
+Brian; but we must set Mr. Drummond, our minister, to talk to you, and
+he'll soon show you the error of your ways."
+
+"I shall be very glad to hear what Mr. Drummond has to say," said Dino,
+with all the courtesy which his monastic training had instilled; "but I
+fear that he will have his labour thrown away. And I have one or two
+things to tell you, mother, now that those gentlemen have gone. If I am
+to disappoint you, let me do it at once, so that you may understand."
+
+"Disappoint me? and how can you do that?" asked Mrs. Luttrell,
+scornfully. "Perhaps you mean that you will winter in the South! If your
+health requires it, do you think I would stand in the way? You have a
+sickly air, but it makes you all the more like one whom I well
+remember--your father's brother, who died of a decline in early youth.
+No, go if you like; I will not tie you down. You can come back in the
+summer, and then we will think about your settling down and marrying.
+There are plenty of nice girls in the neighbourhood, though none so good
+as Angela, nor perhaps so handsome as Elizabeth Murray."
+
+"Mother, I shall never marry."
+
+"Not marry? and why not?" cried Mrs. Luttrell, indignantly. "But you say
+this to tease me only; being a Luttrell--the only Luttrell, indeed, save
+Hugo, that remains--you must marry and continue the family."
+
+"I shall never marry," said Dino, with a firmness which at last seemed
+to make an impression upon Mrs. Luttrell, "because I am going to be a
+monk."
+
+Hugo could not stifle a quick catching of his breath. Did Dino mean what
+he said? And what effect would this decision have upon the lives of the
+many persons whose future seemed to be bound up with his? What would
+Mrs. Luttrell say?
+
+At first she said nothing. And then Dino's voice was heard again.
+
+"Mother, my mother, do not look at me like that. I must follow my
+vocation. I would have given myself years ago, but I was not allowed.
+The Prior will receive me now. And nothing on earth will turn me from my
+resolution. I have made up my mind."
+
+"What!" said Mrs. Luttrell, very slowly. "You will desert me too, after
+all these years!"
+
+Dino answered by repeating in Latin the words--"He that loveth father or
+mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me." But Mrs. Luttrell interrupted
+him angrily.
+
+"I want none of your Latin gibberish," she said. "I want plain
+commonsense. If you go into a monastery, do you intend to give the
+property to the monks? Perhaps you want to turn Netherglen into a
+convent, and establish a priory at Strathleckie? Well, I cannot prevent
+you. What fools we are to think that there is any happiness in this
+world!"
+
+"Mother!" said Dino, and his voice was very gentle, "let me speak to you
+of another before we talk about the estates. Let me speak to you of
+Brian."
+
+"Brian!" Her voice had a checked tone for a moment; then she recovered
+herself and spoke in her usual harsh way. "I know no one of that name
+but you."
+
+"I mean my friend whom you thought to be your son for so many years,
+mother. Have you no tenderness for him? Do you not think of him with a
+little love and pity? Let me tell you what he suffered. When he came to
+us first at San Stefano he was nearly dying of grief. It was long before
+we nursed him back to health. When I think how we all learnt to love
+him, mother, I cannot but believe that you must love him, too."
+
+"I never loved him," said Mrs. Luttrell. "He stood in your place. If you
+had a spark of proper pride in you, you would know that he was your
+enemy, and you will feel towards him as I do."
+
+"He is an enemy that I have learned to love," answered Dino. "At any
+rate, mother"--his voice always softened when he called her by that
+name--"at any rate, you will try to love him now."
+
+"Why now?" She asked the question sharply.
+
+"Because I mean him to fill my place."
+
+There was a little silence, in which the fall of a cinder from the grate
+could be distinctly heard. Then Mrs. Luttrell uttered a long, low moan.
+"Oh, my God!" she said. "What have I done that I should be tormented in
+this way?"
+
+"Mother, mother, do not say so," said Dino, evidently with deep emotion.
+Then, in a lower and more earnest voice, he added--"Perhaps if you had
+tried to love the child that Vincenza placed within your arms that day,
+you would have felt joy and not sorrow now."
+
+"Do you dare to rebuke your mother?" said Mrs. Luttrell, fiercely. "If I
+had loved that child, I would never have acknowledged you to-day. Not
+though all the witnesses in the world swore to your story."
+
+"That perhaps would have been the better for me," said Dino, softly.
+"Mother, I am going away from you for ever; let me leave you another
+son. He has never grieved you willingly; forgive him for those
+misfortunes which he could not help; love him instead of me."
+
+"Never!"
+
+"He has gone to the other side of the world, but I think he would come
+back if he knew that you had need of him. Let me send him a line, a
+word, from you: make him the master of Netherglen, and let me go in
+peace."
+
+"I will not hear his name, I will not tolerate his presence within these
+walls," cried Mrs. Luttrell, passionately. "He was never dear to me,
+never; and he is hateful to me now. He has robbed me of both my sons:
+his hand struck Richard down, and for twenty-three years he usurped your
+place. I will never see him again. I will never forgive him so long as
+my tongue can speak."
+
+"Then may God forgive you," said Dino, in a strangely solemn voice, "for
+you are doing a worse injustice, a worse wrong, than that done by the
+poor woman who tried to put her child in your son's place. Have you held
+that child upon your knee, kissed his face, and seen him grow up to
+manhood, without a particle of love for him in your heart? Did you send
+him away from you with bitter reproaches, because of the accident which
+he would have given his own life to prevent? You have spoilt his life,
+and you do not care. Your heart is hard then, and God will not let that
+hardness go unpunished. Mother, pray that his judgments may not descend
+upon you for this."
+
+"You have no right to talk to me in that way," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+a great effort. "I have not been unjust. You are ungrateful. If you go
+away from me, I will leave all that I possess to Hugo, as I intended to
+do. Brian, as you call him--Vincenza Vasari's son--shall have nothing."
+
+"And Brian is to be disinherited in favour of Hugo Luttrell, is he?"
+said Dino, in a still lower voice, but one which the listener felt
+instinctively had a dangerous sound. "Do you know what manner of man
+this Hugo Luttrell is, that you wish to enrich him with your wealth, and
+make him the master of Netherglen?"
+
+"I know no harm of him," she answered.
+
+He paused a little, and turned his face--was it consciously or
+unconsciously?--towards the open door, from which could be seen the
+screen, behind which the unhappy listener crouched and quivered in agony
+of fear. Willingly would Hugo have turned and fled, but flight was now
+impossible. The fire was blazing brightly, and threw a red glow over all
+the room. If he emerged from behind the screen, his figure would be
+distinctly visible to Dino, whose face was turned in that direction.
+What was he going to say?
+
+"I know no harm of him," she answered.
+
+"Then I will enlighten you. Hugo Luttrell knew that Brian was alive,
+that I was in England, two months ago. A letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano must have been in some way intercepted by him; he made use of
+his knowledge, however he obtained it, to bring the messages from Brian
+which were utterly false, to try and induce me to relinquish my claim on
+you; he forged a letter from Brian for that purpose; and finally----"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell's voice, harsh and strident with emotion, against which
+she did her best to fight, broke the sudden silence.
+
+"Do you call it fair and right," she said, "to accuse a man of such
+faults as these behind his back? If you want to tell me anything against
+Hugo, send for him and tell it to me in his presence. Then he can defend
+himself."
+
+"He will try to defend himself, no doubt," said Dino, with a note of
+melancholy scorn in his grave, young voice. "But I will do nothing
+behind his back. You wish him to be summoned?"
+
+"Yes, I do. Ring the bell instantly!" cried Mrs. Luttrell, whose loving
+ardour seemed to have given way to the most unmitigated resentment.
+
+"Tell the servants to find him and bring him here."
+
+"They would not have far to go," said Dino, coolly. "He is close to
+hand. Hugo Luttrell, come here and answer for yourself."
+
+"What do you mean? Where is he?" exclaimed Mrs. Luttrell, struck with
+his tone of command. "He is not in this room!"
+
+"No, but he is in the next, hiding behind that screen. He has been there
+for the last half-hour. You need play the spy no longer, sir. Have the
+goodness to step forward and show yourself."
+
+The inexorable sternness of his voice struck the listeners with amaze.
+Pale as a ghost, trembling like an aspen leaf, Hugo emerged from his
+hiding-place, and confronted the mother and the son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+RETRIBUTION.
+
+
+"Confess!" said Dino, whose stern voice and outstretched, pointing
+finger seemed terrible as those of some accusing and avenging angel to
+the wretched culprit. "Confess that I have only told the truth. Confess
+that you lied and forged and cheated | to gain your own ends. Confess
+that when other means failed you tried to kill me. Confess--and
+then"--with a sudden lowering of his tones to the most wonderful
+exquisite tenderness--"God knows that I shall be ready to forgive!"
+
+But the last words passed unheeded. Hugo cowered before his eye, covered
+his ears with his hands, and made a sudden dash to the door, with a cry
+that was more like the howl of a hunted wild animal, than the utterance
+of a human being. Mrs. Luttrell called for help, and half-rose from her
+chair. But Dino laid his hand upon her arm.
+
+"Let him go," said he. "I have no desire to punish him. But I must warn
+you."
+
+The door clanged behind the flying figure, and awakened the echoes of
+the old house. Hugo was gone: whither they knew not: away, perhaps, into
+the world of darkness that reigned without. Mrs. Luttrell sank back into
+her chair, trembling from head to foot.
+
+"Mother," said Dino, going up to her, and kneeling before her, "forgive
+me if I have spoken too violently. But I could not bear that you should
+never know what sort of man this Hugo Luttrell has grown to be."
+
+Her hand closed convulsively on his. "How--how did you know--that he was
+there?"
+
+"I saw his reflection in the mirror before me as he passed the open
+door. He was afraid, and he hid himself there to listen. Mother, never
+trust him again."
+
+"Never--never," she stammered. "Stay with me--protect me."
+
+"You will not need my protection," he said, looking at her with calm,
+surprised eyes. "You will have your friends: Mr. Colquhoun, and the
+beautiful lady that you call Angela. And, for my sake, let me think that
+you will have Brian, too."
+
+"No, no!" Her voice took new strength as she answered him, and she
+snatched her hand angrily away from his close clasp. "I will never speak
+to him again."
+
+"Not even when he returns?"
+
+"You told me that he was gone to America!"
+
+"I feel sure that some day he will come back. He will learn the
+truth--that I have withdrawn my claim; then he and Miss Murray must
+settle the matter of property between them. They may divide it; or they
+might even marry."
+
+His voice was perfectly calm; he had brooded over this arrangement for
+so long that it scarcely struck him how terrible it would sound in Mrs.
+Luttrell's ears.
+
+"Do you mean it?" she said, feebly. "You renounce your claim--to be--my
+son?"
+
+"Oh, not your son, mother," he said, kissing the cold hand, which she
+immediately drew away from him. "Not your son! Not the claim to be
+loved, and the right to love you! But let that rest between ourselves.
+Why should the money that I do not want come between me and you, between
+me and my friend? Let Brian come home, and you will have two sons
+instead of one."
+
+"Rather say that I shall have no son at all," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+gathering anger. "If you do this thing I cast you off. I forbid you to
+give what is your own to Vincenza Vasari's son."
+
+"You make it hard for me to act if you forbid me," said Dino, rising and
+standing before her with a pleading look upon his face. "But I hold to
+my intention, mother. I will not touch a penny of this fortune. It shall
+be Brian's, or Miss Murray's--never mine."
+
+"The matter is in a lawyer's hands. Your rights will be proved in spite
+of you."
+
+"I do not think they will. I hold the proofs in my hand. I can destroy
+them every one, if I choose."
+
+"But you will not choose. Besides, these are the copies, not the
+originals."
+
+"No, excuse me. I obtained the originals from Mr. Brett. He expects me
+to take them back to him to-night." Dino held out a roll of papers.
+"They're all here. I will not burn them, mother, if you will send for
+Brian back and let him have his share."
+
+"They would be no use if he came back. You must have the whole or
+nothing. Let us make a bargain; give up your scheme of entering a
+monastery, and then I will consent to some arrangement with Brian about
+money matters. But I will never see him!"
+
+Dino shook his head. He turned to the fireplace with the papers in his
+hand.
+
+"I withdraw my claims," he said, simply.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell was quivering with suppressed excitement, but she mastered
+herself sufficiently to speak with perfect coldness.
+
+"Unless you consent to abandon a monastic life, I would rather that your
+claims were given up," she said. "Let Elizabeth Murray keep the
+property, and do you and the man Vasari go your separate ways."
+
+"Mother----"
+
+"Call me 'mother' no longer," she said, sternly, "you are no more my son
+than he was, if you can leave me, in my loneliness and widowhood, to be
+a monk."
+
+"Then--this is the end," said Dino.
+
+With a sudden movement of the hand he placed the roll of papers in the
+very centre of the glowing fire. Mrs. Luttrell uttered a faint cry, and
+struggled to rise to her feet, but she had not the strength to do so.
+Besides, it was too late. With the poker, Dino held down the blazing
+mass, until nothing but a charred and blackened ruin remained. Then he
+laid down the poker, and faced Mrs. Luttrell with a wavering but
+victorious smile.
+
+"It is done," he said, with something of exultation in his tone. "Now I
+am free. I have long seen that this was the only thing to do. And now I
+can acknowledge that the temptation was very great."
+
+With lifted head and kindling eye, he looked, in this hour of triumph
+over himself, as if no temptation had ever assailed, or ever could
+assail, him. But then his glance fell upon Mrs. Luttrell, whose hands
+fiercely clutched the arms of her chair, whose features worked with
+uncontrollable agitation. He fell on his knees before her.
+
+"Mother!" he cried. "Forgive me. Perhaps I was wrong. I will--I will ...
+I will pray for you."
+
+The last few words were spoken after a long pause, with a fall in his
+voice, which showed that they were not those which he had intended to
+say when he began the sentence. There was something solemn and pathetic
+in the sound. But Mrs. Luttrell would not hear.
+
+"Go!" she said, hoarsely. "Go. You are no son of mine. Sooner Brian--or
+Hugo--than you. Go back to your monastery."
+
+She thrust him away from her with her hands when he tried to plead. And
+at last he saw that there was no use in arguing, for she pulled a bell
+which hung within her reach, and, when the servant appeared, she placed
+the matter beyond dispute by saying sharply:--
+
+"Show this gentleman out."
+
+Dino looked at her face, clasped his hands in one last silent entreaty,
+and--went. There was no use in staying longer. The door closed behind
+him, and the woman who had thrust away from her the love that might have
+been hers, but for her selfishness and hardness of heart, was left
+alone.
+
+A whirl of raging, angry thoughts made her brain throb and reel. She had
+put away from her what might have been the great joy of her life; her
+will, which had never been controlled by another, had been simply set
+aside and disregarded. What was there left for her to do? All the
+repentance in the world would not give her back the precious papers that
+her son had burnt before her eyes. And where had he gone? Back to his
+monastery? Should she never, never see him again? Was he tramping the
+long and weary way to the Dunmuir station, where the railway engine
+would presently come shrieking and sweeping out of the darkness, and,
+like a fabled monster in some old fairy tale, gather him into its
+embrace, and bear him away to a place whence he would never more return?
+
+So grotesque this fancy appeared to her that her anger failed her, and
+she laughed a little to herself--laughed with bloodless lips that made
+no sound. A kind of numbness of thought came over her: she sat for a
+little time in blank unconsciousness of her sorrow, and yet she did not
+sleep. And then a host of vividly-pictured images began to succeed each
+other with frightful rapidity across the _tabula rasa_ of her mind.
+
+It seemed to her in that quiet hour she saw her son as he walked dawn
+the dark road to Dunmuir. The moon was just rising; the trees on either
+hand lifted their gaunt branches to a wild and starless sky. Whose face,
+white as that of a corpse, gleamed from between those leafless stems?
+Hugo's, surely. And what did he hold in his hand? Was it a knife on
+which a faint ray of moonlight was palely reflected? He was watching for
+that solitary traveller who came with heedless step and hanging head
+upon the lonely road. In another moment the spring would be taken, the
+thrust made, and a dying man's blood would well out upon the stones.
+Could she do nothing? "Brian! Brian!" she cried--or strove to cry; but
+the shriek seemed to be stifled before it left her lips. "Brian!" Three
+times she tried to call his name, with an agony of effort which,
+perhaps, brought her back to consciousness--for the dream, if dream it
+was, vanished, and she awoke.
+
+Awoke--to the remembrance of what she had heard, concerning Hugo's
+attempt on Dino's life, and the fact that she had sent her son out of
+the house to walk to Dunmuir alone. She was not so blind to Hugo's
+inherited proclivities to passion and revenge as she pretended to be.
+She knew that he was a dangerous enemy, and that Dino had incurred his
+hatred. What might not happen on that lonely road between Netherglen and
+Dunmuir if Dino (Brian, she called him) traversed it unwarned, alone,
+unarmed? She must send servants after him at once, to guard him as he
+went upon his way. She heard her maid in the next room. Should she call
+Janet, or should she ring the bell?
+
+What a curiously-helpless sensation had come over her! She did not seem
+able to rouse herself. She could not lift her hand. She was tired; that
+was it. She would call Janet. "Janet!" But Janet did not hear.
+
+How was it that she could not speak? Her faculties were as clear as
+usual: her memory was as strong as ever it had been. She knew exactly
+what she wanted: she could arrange in her own mind the sentences that
+she wished to say. But, try as she would, she could not articulate a
+word, she could not raise a finger, or make a sign. And again the
+terrible dread of what would happen to the son she loved took possession
+of her mind.
+
+Oh, if only he would return, she would let him have his way. What did it
+matter that the proof of his birth had been destroyed? She would
+acknowledge him as her son before all the world; and she would let him
+divide his heritage with whomsoever he chose. Netherglen should be his,
+and the three claimants might settle between themselves, whether the
+rest of the property should belong to one of them, or be divided amongst
+the three. He might even go back to San Stefano; she would love him and
+bless him throughout, if only she knew that his life was safe. She went
+further. She seemed to be pleading with fate--or rather with God--for
+the safety of her son. She would receive Brian with open arms; she would
+try to love him for Dino's sake. She would do all and everything that
+Dino required from her, if only she could conquer this terrible
+helplessness of feeling, this dumbness of tongue which had come over
+her. Surely it was but a passing phase: surely when someone came and
+stood before her the spell would be broken, and she would be able to
+speak once more.
+
+The maid peeped in, thought she was sleeping, and quietly retired. No
+one ventured to disturb Mrs. Luttrell if she nodded, for at night she
+slept so little that even a few minutes' slumber in the daytime was a
+boon to her. A silent, motionless figure in her great arm-chair, with
+her hands folded before her in her lap, she sat--not sleeping--with all
+her senses unnaturally sharpened, it seemed to her; hearing every sound
+in the house, noting every change in the red embers of the fire in which
+the proof of her son's history had been consumed, and all the while
+picturing to herself some terrible tragedy going on outside the house,
+which a word from her might have averted. And she not able to pronounce
+that word!
+
+Dino, meanwhile, had plunged into the darkness, without a thought of
+fear for himself. He walked away from the house just as she had seen him
+in her waking dream, with head bent and eyes fixed on the ground. He
+took the right road to Dunmuir, more by accident than by design, and
+walked beneath the rows of sheltering trees, through which the loch
+gleamed whitely on the one hand, while on the other the woods looked
+ominously black, without a thought of the revengeful ferocity which
+lurked beneath the velvet smoothness of Hugo Luttrell's outer demeanour.
+If something moved amongst the trees on his right hand, if something
+crouched amongst the brushwood, like a wild animal prepared to spring,
+he neither saw nor heard the tokens which might have moved him to
+suspicion. But suddenly it seemed to him that a wild cry rang out upon
+the stillness of the night air. His friend's name--or was it his
+own?--three times repeated, in tones of heartrending pain and terror.
+"Brian! Brian! Brian!" Whose voice had called him? Not that of anyone he
+knew. And yet, what stranger would use that name? He stopped, looked
+round, and answered:--
+
+"Yes, I am here."
+
+And then it struck him that the voice had been close beside him, and
+that, standing where he stood in the middle of the long, white road, it
+was quite impossible that any one could be so near, and yet remain
+unseen.
+
+With a slight shudder he let his eyes explore the sides of the road: the
+hedgerows, and the bank that rose on his right hand towards the wood.
+Surely there was something that moved and stopped, and moved again
+amongst the bracken. With one bound Dino reached the moving object, and
+dragged it forth into the light. He knew whom he was touching before he
+saw the face. It was Hugo who lurked in the hedgerows, waiting--and for
+what?
+
+"You heard it?" said Dino, as the young man crouched before him,
+scarcely daring to lift up his head, although at that moment, if he had
+had his wits about him, he could not have had a better chance for the
+accomplishment of any sinister design. "Who called?"
+
+Hugo cast a quick startled glance at the wood behind him. "I heard
+nothing," he said, sullenly.
+
+"I heard a voice that called me," said Dino. Then he looked at Hugo, and
+pressed his shoulder somewhat heavily with his hand. "What were you
+doing there? For whom were you waiting?"
+
+"For nobody," muttered Hugo.
+
+"Are you sure of that? I could almost believe that you were waiting for
+me; and should I be far wrong? When I think of that other time, when you
+deceived me, and trapped me, and left me dying, as you thought, in the
+streets, I can believe anything of you now."
+
+Hugo's trembling lips refused to articulate a word. He could neither
+deny the charge nor plead for mercy.
+
+Dino's exultation of mood led him to despise an appeal to any but the
+higher motives. He would not condescend to threaten Hugo with the
+police-court and the criminal cell. He loosed his hold on the young
+man's shoulder, and told him to rise from the half-kneeling posture, to
+which fear, rather than Dino's strength, had brought him. And when Hugo
+stood before him, he spoke in the tone of one to whom the spiritual side
+of life was more real, more important than any other, and it seemed to
+Hugo as if he spoke from out some other world.
+
+"There is a day coming," he said, "when the secrets of all men's hearts
+will be revealed. And where will you be, what will you do in that dread
+day? When you stand before the Judge of all men on His great white
+Throne, how will you justify yourself to Him?"
+
+The strong conviction, the deep penetrating accents of his words,
+carried a sting to Hugo's conscience. He felt as if Dino had a
+supernatural knowledge of his past life and his future, when he said
+solemnly:--
+
+"Think of the secrets of your heart which shall then be made known to
+all men. What have you done? Have you not broken God's laws? Have you
+not in very truth committed murder?... There is a commandment in God's
+Word which says, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"
+
+"Stop, stop, for Heaven's sake, stop!" gasped Hugo, covering his face
+with his hands. "How can you know all this? I did not mean to kill him.
+I meant only to have my revenge. I did not know----"
+
+"Nay, do not try to excuse yourself," said Dino, who caught the words
+imperfectly, and did not understand that they referred to any crime but
+the one so nearly accomplished against himself. "God knows all. He saw
+what you did: He can make it manifest in His own way. Confess to Him
+now: not to me. I pardon you."
+
+There was a great sob from behind Hugo's quivering fingers; but it was
+only of relief, not repentance. Dino waited a moment or two before he
+said, with the tone of quiet authority which was natural to him:--
+
+"Now fetch me the knife which you dropped amongst the ferns by the hedge
+over there."
+
+With the keen, quick sight that he possessed, he had caught a glimpse of
+it in the scuffle, and seen it drop from Hugo's hand. But the young
+Sicilian took the order as another proof of the sort of superhuman
+knowledge of his deeds and motives which he attributed to Dino Vasari,
+and went submissively to the place where the weapon was lying, picked it
+up, and with hanging head, presented it humbly to the man whose
+spiritual force had for the moment mastered him.
+
+"You must not return to Netherglen," said Dino, looking at him as he
+spoke. "My mother will not see you again: she does not want you near
+her. You understand?"
+
+Hugo assented, with a sort of stifled groan.
+
+"I was forced to tell her, in order to put her on her guard. But if you
+obey me, I will tell no one else. I have not even told Brian. If I find
+that you return to your evil courses, I shall keep the secret of your
+conduct no longer. Then, when Brian comes home, he can reckon with you."
+
+"Brian!" ejaculated Hugo.
+
+"Yes: Brian. What I require from you is that you trouble Netherglen no
+more. I cannot think of you with peace in my mother's house. You will
+leave it to-night--at once."
+
+"Yes," Hugo muttered. He had no desire to return to Netherglen.
+
+"I am going to Dunmuir," said Dino. "You can walk on with me."
+
+Hugo made no opposition. He turned his face vaguely in the specified
+direction, and moved onward; but the sound of Dino's voice, clear and
+cold, gave him a thrill of shame, amounting to positive physical pain.
+
+"Walk before me, if you please. I cannot trust you."
+
+They walked on: Hugo a pace or two in front, Dino behind. Not a word was
+spoken between them until they reached the chief street of Dunmuir, and
+then Dino called to him to pause. They were standing in front of Mr.
+Colquhoun's door.
+
+"You are not going in here?" said Hugo, with a sharp note of terror in
+his voice. "You will not tell Colquhoun?"
+
+"I will tell no one," said Dino, "so long as you fulfil the condition I
+have laid upon you. This is our last word on the subject. God forgive
+you, as I do."
+
+They stood for a moment, face to face. The moon had risen, and its light
+fell peacefully upon the paved street, the old stone houses, the broad,
+beautiful river with its wooded banks, the distant sweep of hills. It
+fell also on the faces of the two men, not unlike in feature and
+colouring, but totally dissimilar in expression, and seemed to intensify
+every point of difference between them. There was a lofty serenity upon
+Dino Vasari's brow, while guilt and fear and misery were deeply
+imprinted on Hugo's boyish, beautiful face. For the first time the
+contrast between them struck forcibly on Hugo's mind. He leaned against
+the stone wall of Mr. Colquhoun's house, and gave vent to his emotion in
+one bitter, remorseful sob of pain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.
+
+
+Mr. Colquhoun and Mr. Brett were sitting over their wine in the
+well-lighted, well-warmed dining-room of the lawyer's house. They had
+been friends in their earlier days, and were delighted to have an
+opportunity of meeting (in a strictly unprofessional way) and chatting
+over the memories of their youth. It was a surprise to both of them when
+the door was opened to admit Dino Vasari and Hugo Luttrell: two of the
+last visitors whom Mr. Colquhoun expected. His bow to Dino was a little
+stiff: his greeting of Hugo more cordial than usual.
+
+"You come from Mrs. Luttrell?" he asked, in surprise.
+
+Hugo's pallid lips, and look of agitation, convinced him that some
+disaster was impending. But Dino answered with great composure.
+
+"I come to bring you news which I think ought not to be kept from you
+for a moment longer than is necessary," he said.
+
+"Pray take a glass of wine, Mr.--er--Mr.----" The lawyer did not quite
+know how to address his visitor. "Won't you sit down, Hugo?"
+
+"I have not come to stay," said Dino. "I am going to the hotel for the
+night. I wished only to speak to you at once." He put one hand on the
+table by which he was standing and glanced at Mr. Brett. For the first
+time he showed some embarrassment. "I hope it will not inconvenience
+you," he said, "if I tell you that I have withdrawn my claim."
+
+Dead silence fell on the assembly. Mr. Brett pushed back his chair a
+little way and stared. Mr. Colquhoun shook his head and smiled.
+
+"I find," continued Dino, "that Mrs. Luttrell and I have entirely
+different views as to the disposition of the property and the life that
+I ought to lead. I cannot give up my plans--even for her. The easiest
+way to set things straight is to let the estate remain in Miss Murray's
+hands."
+
+"You can't!" said Mr. Colquhoun, abruptly. "Brian Luttrell is alive!"
+
+"Then let it go to Brian Luttrell."
+
+"My dear sir," said Mr. Brett, "you have offered us complete documentary
+evidence that the gentleman now on his way to America is not Brian
+Luttrell at all."
+
+"Yes, but there is only documentary evidence," said Dino. "The deaths of
+Vincenza Vasari and Rosa Naldi in a railway accident deprived us of
+anything else."
+
+"Where are those papers?" asked Mr. Brett, sharply. "I hope they are
+safe."
+
+"Quite safe, Mr. Brett. I have burnt them all." The shock of this
+communication was too much, even for the case-hardened Mr. Brett. He
+turned positively pale.
+
+"Burnt them! Burnt them!" he ejaculated. "Oh, the man is mad. Burnt the
+proofs of his position and birth----"
+
+"I have done all that I wanted to do," said Dino, colouring as the three
+pairs of eyes were fastened upon him with different expressions of
+disbelief, surprise, and even scorn. "My mother knows that I am her son:
+that is all I cared for. That is what I came for, not for the estate."
+
+"But, my dear, young friend," said Mr. Colquhoun, with unusual
+gentleness, "don't you see that if Mrs. Luttrell and Brian and Miss
+Murray are all convinced that you are Mrs. Luttrell's son, you are doing
+them a wrong by destroying the proofs and leaving everybody in an
+unsettled state? You should never have come to Scotland at all if you
+did not mean to carry the matter through."
+
+"That's what I say," cried Mr. Brett, who was working himself up into a
+violent passion. "He has played fast and loose with all us! He has
+tricked and cheated me. Why, he had a splendid case! And to think that
+it can be set aside in this way!"
+
+"Very informal," said Mr. Colquhoun, shaking his head, but with a little
+gleam of laughter in his eye. If Dino Vasari had told the truth, the
+matter had taken a fortunate turn in Mr. Colquhoun's opinion.
+
+"Scandalous! scandalous!" exclaimed Mr. Brett. "Actionable, I call it.
+You had no right to make away with those papers, sir. However, it may be
+possible to repair the loss. They were not all there."
+
+"I will not have it," said Dino, decisively. "Nothing more shall be
+done. I waive my claims entirely. Brian and Miss Murray can settle the
+rest."
+
+And then the party broke up. Mr. Brett seized his client by the arm and
+bore him away to the hotel, arguing and scolding as he went. Before his
+departure, however, Dino found time to say a word in Mr. Colquhoun's
+ear.
+
+"Will you kindly look after Hugo to-night?" he said. "Mrs. Luttrell will
+not wish him to return to Netherglen."
+
+"Oh! There's been a quarrel, has there?" said Mr. Colquhoun eyeing the
+young man curiously.
+
+After a little consideration, Dino thought himself justified in saying
+"Yes."
+
+"I will see after him. You are going with Brett. You'll not have a
+smooth time of it."
+
+"It will be smoother by-and-bye. You will shake hands with me, Mr.
+Colquhoun?"
+
+"That I will," said the old lawyer, heartily. "And wish you God-speed,
+my lad. You've not been very wise, maybe, but you've been generous."
+
+"You will have Brian home, before long, I hope."
+
+"I hope so. I hope so. It's a difficult matter to settle," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, cautiously, "but I think we might see our way out of it if
+Brian were at home. If you want a friend, lad, come to me."
+
+Left alone with Hugo, the solicitor took his place once more at the
+table, and hastily drank off a glass of wine, then glanced at his silent
+guest with a queerly-questioning look.
+
+"What's wrong with ye, lad?" he said. "Cheer up, and drink a glass of
+good port wine. Your aunt has quarrelled with many people before you,
+and she'll like enough come to her senses in course of time."
+
+"Did he say I had quarrelled with my aunt?" asked Hugo, in a dazed sort
+of way.
+
+"Well, he said as much. He said there had been a quarrel. He asked me to
+keep an eye on you. Why, Hugo, my man, what's the matter?"
+
+For Hugo, utterly careless of the old man's presence, suddenly laid his
+aims on the table, and his head on his arms, and burst into passionate
+hysterical tears.
+
+"Tut, tut, tut, man! this will never do," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+rebukingly. "You're not a girl, nor a child, to cry for a sharp word or
+two. What's wrong?"
+
+But he got no answer. Not even when Hugo, spent and exhausted with the
+violence of his emotion, lifted up his face and asked hoarsely for
+brandy. Mr. Colquhoun gave him what he required, without asking further
+questions, and tried to induce him to take some solid food; but Hugo
+absolutely refused to swallow anything but a stiff glass of brandy and
+water, and allowed himself to be conducted to a bed-room, where he flung
+himself face downwards on the bed, and preserved a sullen silence.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun did not press him to speak. "I'll hear it all from
+Margaret Luttrell to-morrow morning," he said to himself. "My mind
+misgives me that there have been strange doings up at Netherglen
+to-night. But I'll know to-morrow."
+
+It was at that very moment that Angela Vivian, going into the
+dressing-room, found a motionless, silent figure, sitting upright in the
+wheeled arm-chair, a figure, not lifeless, indeed, but with life
+apparent only in the agonised glance of the restless eyes, which seemed
+to plead for help. But no help could be given to her now. No more hard
+words could fall from those stricken lips: no more bitter sentences be
+written by those nerveless fingers. She might live for years, if
+dragging on a mute, maimed existence could be, indeed, called living;
+but, as far as power over the destiny of others, of doing good or harm
+to her loved ones, was concerned, Margaret Luttrell was practically
+dead!
+
+Mr. Colquhoun heard the news of Mrs. Luttrell's seizure on the following
+morning, and made good use of it as a reproach to Dino in the
+conversation that he had with him. But Dino, although deeply grieved at
+the turn which things had taken, stood firm. He would have nothing to do
+with the Strathleckie or the Luttrell properties. Whereupon, Mr.
+Colquhoun went straight to Miss Murray, and told her, to the best of his
+ability, the long and intricate story. Be it observed that, although Mr.
+Colquhoun knew that Brian was living, and that he had lately been in
+England, he did not know of Brian's appearance at Strathleckie under the
+name of Stretton, and was, therefore, unable to give Elizabeth any
+information on this point.
+
+Elizabeth was imperative in her decision.
+
+"At any rate," she said, "the property cannot belong to me. It must
+belong either to Mr. Luttrell or to Mr. Vasari. I have no right to it."
+
+"Possession is nine points of the law, my dear," said the lawyer.
+"Nobody can turn you out until Brian comes home again. It may be all a
+mistake."
+
+"You don't think it a mistake, Mr. Colquhoun?"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun smiled, pursed up his lips, and gave his head a little
+shake, as much as to say that he was not going to be tricked into any
+expression of his private opinions.
+
+"The thing will be to get Mr. Brian Luttrell back," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Not such an easy thing as it seems, I am afraid, Miss Murray. The lad,
+Dino Vasari, or whatever his name is, tried hard to keep him, but
+failed. He is an honest lad, I believe, this Dino, but he's an awful
+fool, you know, begging your pardon. If he wanted to keep Brian in
+England, why couldn't he write to me?"
+
+"Perhaps he did not know of your friendship for Brian," said Elizabeth,
+smiling.
+
+"Then he knew very little of Brian's life and Brian's friends, my dear,
+and, according to his own account, he knew a good deal. Of course, he is
+a foreigner, and we must make allowances for him, especially as he was
+brought up in a monastery, where I don't suppose they learn much about
+the forms of ordinary life. What puzzles me is the stupidity of one or
+two other people, who might have let me know in time, if they had had
+their wits about them. I've a crow to pluck with your Mr. Heron on that
+ground," concluded Mr. Colquhoun, never dreaming that he was making
+mischief by his communication.
+
+Elizabeth started forward. "Percival!" she said, contracting her brows
+and looking at Mr. Colquhoun earnestly. "You don't mean that Percival
+knew!"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun perceived that he had gone too far, but could not retract
+his words.
+
+"Well, my dear Miss Murray, he certainly knew something----" and then he
+stopped short and coughed apologetically.
+
+"Oh," said Elizabeth, with a little extra colour in her cheeks, and the
+faintest possible touch of coldness, "no doubt he had his reasons for
+being silent; he will explain them when he comes."
+
+"No doubt," said the lawyer, gravely; but he chuckled a little to
+himself over the account which Mr. Brett had given him that morning of
+Mr. Heron's disappointment. (Mr. Brett had thrown up the case, he told
+his friend Colquhoun; would have nothing more to do with it at any
+price. "I think the case has thrown you up," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+laughing slyly.)
+
+He had taken up some papers which he had brought with him and was
+turning towards the door when a new thought caused him to stop, and
+address Elizabeth once more.
+
+"Miss Murray," he said, "I do not wish to make a remark that would be
+unpleasant to you, but when I remember that Mr. Heron was in possession
+of the facts that I have just imparted to you, nearly a week ago, I do
+think, like yourself, that his conduct calls for an explanation."
+
+"I did not say that I thought so, Mr. Colquhoun," said Elizabeth,
+feeling provoked. But Mr. Colquhoun was gone.
+
+Nevertheless, she agreed with him so far that she sent off a telegram to
+Percival that afternoon. "Come to me at once, if possible. I want you."
+
+When Percival received the message, which he did on his return from his
+club about eleven o'clock at night, he eyed the thin, pink paper on
+which it was written as if it had been a reptile of some poisonous kind.
+"I expected it," he said to himself, and all the gaiety went out of his
+face. "She has found something out."
+
+It was too late to do anything that night. He felt resentfully conscious
+that he should not sleep if he went to bed; so he employed the midnight
+hours in completing some items of work which ought to be done on the
+following day. Before it was light he had packed a hand-bag, and
+departed to catch the early train. He sent a telegram from Peterborough
+to say that he was on the way.
+
+Of course, it was late when he reached Strathleckie, and he assured
+himself with some complacency that Elizabeth would expect no
+conversation with him until next morning. But he was a little mistaken.
+In her quality of mistress, she had chosen to send everyone else to bed:
+the household was so well accustomed to Percival's erratic comings and
+goings, that nobody attached any importance to his visits; and even old
+Mr. Heron appeared only for a few minutes to gossip with his son while
+he ate a comfortable supper, retiring at last, with a nod to his niece
+which Percival easily understood. It meant--"I will do now what you told
+me you wished--leave you together to have your talk out." And Percival
+felt irritated by Elizabeth's determination.
+
+"Will you smoke?" she asked, when the meal was over.
+
+"I don't mind if I do. Will you come into the study--that's the
+smoking-room, is it not?--or is it too late for you?"
+
+"It is not very late," said Elizabeth.
+
+When they were seated in the study, Percival in a great green arm-chair,
+and Elizabeth opposite to him in a much smaller one, he attempted to
+take matters somewhat into his own hands.
+
+"I won't ask to-night what you wanted me for," he said, easily. "I am
+rather battered and sleepy; we shall talk better to-morrow."
+
+"You can set my mind at rest on one point, at any rate," rejoined
+Elizabeth, whose face burned with a feverish-looking flush. "It is, of
+course, a mistake that you knew a week ago of Brian Luttrell being in
+London?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Percival. But the irony in his voice was too plain
+for her to be deceived by it.
+
+"Did you know, Percival?"
+
+"Well, if you must have the plain truth," he said, sitting up and
+examining the end of his cigar with much attention, "I did."
+
+She was silent. He raised his eyes, apparently with some effort, to her
+face; saw there a rather shocked and startled look, and rushed
+immediately into vehement speech.
+
+"What if I did! Do you expect me to rush to you with every disturbing
+report I hear? I did not see this man, Brian Luttrell; I should not know
+him if I did--as Brian Luttrell, at any rate. I merely heard the story
+from a--an acquaintance of mine----"
+
+"Dino Vasari," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Oh, I see you know the facts. There is no need for me to say any more.
+Of course, you attach no weight to any reasons I might have for
+silence."
+
+"Indeed, I do, Percival; or I should do, if I knew what they were."
+
+"Can you not guess them?" he said, looking at her intently. "Can you
+think of no powerful motive that would make me anxious to delay the
+telling of the story?"
+
+"None," she said. "None, except one that would be beneath you."
+
+"Beneath me? Is it possible?" scoffed Percival. "No motive is too base
+for me, allow me to tell you, my dear child. I am the true designing
+villain of romance. Go on: what is the one bad motive which you
+attribute to me?"
+
+"I do not attribute it to you," said Elizabeth, slowly, but with some
+indignation. "I never in my life believed, I never shall believe, that
+you cared in the least whether I was rich or poor."
+
+Percival paused, as if he had met with an unexpected check, and then
+went off into a fit of rather forced laughter.
+
+"So you never thought that," he said. "And that was the only motive that
+occurred to you? Then, perhaps you will kindly tell me the story as it
+was told to you, for you seem to have had a special edition. Has Dino
+Vasari been down here?"
+
+She gave him a short account of the events that had occurred at
+Netherglen, and she noticed that as he listened, he forgot to smoke his
+cigar, and that he leaned his elbow on the arm of the great chair, and
+shaded his eyes with his hand. There was a certain suppressed eagerness
+in his manner, as he turned round when she had finished, and said, with
+lifted eyebrows:--
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"What else do you know?" said Elizabeth.
+
+He rubbed his hand impatiently backwards and forwards on the arm of the
+chair, and did not speak for a moment.
+
+"What does Colquhoun advise you to do?" he asked, presently.
+
+"To wait here until Brian Luttrell is found and brought home."
+
+"Brought home. They think he will come?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Why not? When everybody knows that he is alive there will be
+no possible reason why he should stay away. In fact, if he is a
+right-thinking man, he will see that justice requires him to come home
+at once."
+
+"I should not think, myself, that he was a right-thinking man," said
+Percival, without looking at her.
+
+"Because he allowed himself to be thought dead?" said Elizabeth,
+watching him as he relighted his cigar. "But, then, he was in such
+terrible trouble--and the opportunity offered itself, and seemed so
+easy. Poor fellow! I was always very sorry for him."
+
+"Were you?"
+
+"Yes. His mother, at least, Mrs. Luttrell, for I suppose she is not his
+mother really, must have been very cruel. From all that I have heard he
+was the last man to be jealous of his brother, or to wish any harm to
+him."
+
+"In short, you are quite prepared to look upon him as a _héros de
+roman_, and worship him as such when he appears. Possibly you may think
+there is some reason in Dino Vasari's naive suggestion that you should
+marry Mr. Luttrell and prevent any division of the property."
+
+"A suggestion which, from you, Percival, is far more insulting than that
+of the motive which I did not attribute to you," said Elizabeth, with
+spirit.
+
+"You wouldn't marry Brian Luttrell, then?"
+
+"Percival!"
+
+"Not under any consideration? Well, tell me so. I like to hear you say
+it."
+
+Elizabeth was silent.
+
+"Tell me so," he said, stretching out his hand to her, and looking at
+her attentively, "and I will tell you the reason of my week's silence."
+
+"I have no need to tell you so," she answered, in a suppressed voice.
+"And if I did you would not trust me."
+
+"No," he said, drily, "perhaps not; but promise me, all the same, that
+under no circumstances will you ever marry Brian Luttrell."
+
+"I promise," she said, in a low tone of humiliation. Her eyes were full
+of tears. "And now let me go, Percival. I cannot stay with you--when you
+say that you trust me so little."
+
+He had taken advantage of her rising to seize her hand. He now tossed
+his cigar into the fire, and rose, too, still holding her hand in his.
+He looked down at her quivering lips, her tear-filled eyes, with
+gathering intensity of emotion. Then he put both arms round her, pressed
+her to his breast with passionate vehemence, and kissed her again and
+again, on cheek, lip, neck, and brow. She shivered a little, but did not
+protest.
+
+"There!" he said, suddenly putting her away from him, and standing erect
+with the black frowning line very strongly marked upon his forehead. "I
+will tell you now why I did not try to keep Brian Luttrell in England. I
+knew that I ought to make a row about it. I knew that I was bound in
+honour to write to Colquhoun, to you, to Mrs. Luttrell, to any of the
+people concerned. And I didn't do it. I didn't precisely mean not to do
+it, but I wanted to shift the responsibility. I thought it was other
+people's business to keep him in England: not mine. As a matter of fact,
+I suppose it was mine. What do you say?"
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, lifting her lovely, grieved eyes to his stormy
+face. "I think it was partly yours."
+
+"Well, I didn't do it, you see," said Percival. "I was a brute and a
+cad, I suppose. But it seemed fatally easy to hold one's tongue. And now
+he has gone to America."
+
+"But he can be brought back again, Percival."
+
+"If he will come. I fancy that it will take a strong rope to drag him
+back. You want to know the reason for my silence? It isn't far to seek.
+Brian Luttrell and the tutor, Stretton, who fell in love with you, were
+one and the same person. That's all."
+
+And then he walked straight out of the room, and left her to her own
+reflections.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.
+
+
+Percival felt a decided dread of his next meeting with Elizabeth. He
+could not guess what would be the effect of his information upon her
+mind, nor what would be her opinion of his conduct. He was in a state of
+exasperating uncertainty about her views. The only thing of which he was
+sure was her love and respect for truthfulness; he did not know whether
+she would ever forgive any lapse from it. "Though, if it comes to that,"
+he said to himself, as he finished his morning toilet, "she ought to be
+as angry with Stretton as she is with me; for he took her in completely,
+and, as for me, I only held my tongue. I suppose she will say that 'the
+motive was everything.' Which confirms me in my belief that one man may
+steal a horse, while the other may not look over the wall." And then he
+went down to breakfast.
+
+He was late, of course; when was he not late for breakfast? The whole
+family-party had assembled; even Mrs. Heron was downstairs to welcome
+her step-son. Percival responded curtly enough to their greetings; his
+eyes and ears and thoughts were too much taken up with Elizabeth to be
+bestowed on the rest of the family. And Elizabeth, after all, looked
+much as usual. Perhaps there was a little unwonted colour in her cheek,
+and life in her eye; she did not look as if she had not slept, or had
+had bad dreams; there was rather an unusually restful and calm
+expression upon her face.
+
+"Confound the fellow!"--thus Percival mentally apostrophised the missing
+Brian Luttrell. "One would think that she was glad of what I told her."
+He was thoroughly put out by this reflection, and munched his breakfast
+in sulky silence, listening cynically to his step-mother's idle
+utterances and Kitty's vivacious replies. He was conscious of some
+disinclination to meet Elizabeth's tranquil glance, of which he bitterly
+resented the tranquillity. And she scarcely spoke, except to the
+children.
+
+"I wonder how poor Mrs. Luttrell is to-day," Isabel Heron was saying.
+"It is sad that she should be so ill."
+
+"Yes, I wondered yesterday what was the matter, when I met Hugo," said
+Kitty. "He looked quite pale and serious. He was staying at Dunmuir, he
+told me. I suppose he does not find the house comfortable while his aunt
+is ill."
+
+"Rather a cold-blooded young fellow, if he can consider that," said Mr.
+Heron. "Mrs. Luttrell has always been very kind to him, I believe."
+
+"Perhaps he is tired of Netherglen," said Kitty. ("Nobody knows anything
+about the story of the two Brian Luttrells, then!" Percival reflected,
+with surprise. "Elizabeth has a talent for silence when she chooses.")
+Kitty went on carelessly, "Netherglen is damp in this weather. I don't
+think I should care to live there." Then she blushed a little, as though
+some new thought had occurred to her.
+
+"The weather is growing quite autumnal," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "We
+ought to return to town, and make our preparations----" She looked with
+a sly smile from Percival to Elizabeth, and paused. "When is it to be,
+Lizzie?"
+
+Elizabeth drew up her head haughtily and said nothing. Percival glanced
+at her, and drew no good augury from the cold offence visible in her
+face. There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Heron thought it better
+to dispel by rising from the table.
+
+Percival smoked his morning cigar on the terrace with his father, and
+wondered whether Elizabeth was not going to present herself and talk to
+him. He was ready to be very penitent and make every possible sign of
+submission to her wishes, for he felt that he had wronged her in his
+mind, and that she might justly be offended with him if she guessed his
+thoughts. He paced up and down, looking in impatiently at the windows
+from time to time, but still she came not. At last, standing
+disconsolately in the porch, he saw her passing through the hall with
+little Jack in her arms, and the other boys hanging on to her dress,
+quite in the old Gower-street fashion.
+
+"Elizabeth, won't you come out?" he said.
+
+"I can't, just now. I am going to give the children some lessons. I do
+that, first thing."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Ever since Mr. Stretton left," she said.
+
+"Give them a holiday. I want you. There are lots of things we have to
+talk about."
+
+"Are there? I thought there was nothing left to say," said she, sweetly
+but coldly. "But I am going to Dunmuir at half-past two this afternoon,
+and you can drive down with me if you like."
+
+She passed on, and shut herself into the study with the children.
+Percival felt injured. "She should not have brought me all the way from
+London if she had nothing to say," he grumbled. "I'll go back to-night.
+And I might as well go and see Colquhoun this morning."
+
+He went down to Mr. Colquhoun's office, and was not received very
+cordially by that gentleman. The interview resulted in rather a violent
+quarrel, which ended by Percival being requested to leave Mr.
+Colquhoun's presence, and not return to it uninvited. Mr. Colquhoun
+could not easily forgive him for neglecting to inform the Luttrells, at
+the earliest opportunity, of Brian's reappearance. "We should have saved
+time, money, anxiety: we might have settled the matter without troubling
+Miss Murray, or agitating Mrs. Luttrell; and I call it downright
+dishonesty to have concealed a fact which was of such vital importance,"
+said Mr. Colquhoun, who had lost his temper. And Percival flung himself
+out of the room in a rage.
+
+He was still inwardly fuming when he seated himself beside Elizabeth
+that afternoon in a little low carriage drawn by two grey ponies--an
+equipage which she specially affected--in order to drive to Dunmuir. For
+full five minutes neither of them spoke, but at last Elizabeth said,
+with a faint accent of surprise:--
+
+"I thought you had something to say to me."
+
+"I have so many things that I don't know where to begin. Have you
+nothing to say--about what I told you last night?"
+
+"I can only say that I am very glad of it."
+
+"The deuce you are!" thought Percival, but his lips were sealed.
+Elizabeth went on to explain herself.
+
+"I am glad, because now I understand various things that were very hard
+for me to understand before. I can see why Mr. Stretton hesitated about
+coming here; I see why he was startled when he discovered that I was the
+very girl whom he must have heard of before he left England. Of course,
+I should never have objected to surrender the property to its rightful
+owner; but in this case I shall be not only willing but pleased to give
+it back."
+
+Her tone was proud and independent. Percival did not like it, but would
+not say so.
+
+"I was saying last night," she continued, "that Brian Luttrell must come
+back. This discovery makes his return all the more necessary. I am going
+now to ask Mr. Colquhoun what steps had better be taken for bringing him
+home."
+
+"Do you think he will come?"
+
+"He must come. He must be made to see that it is right for him to come.
+I have been thinking of what I will ask Mr. Colquhoun to say to him. If
+he remembers me"--and her voice sank a little--"he will not refuse to do
+what would so greatly lighten my burden."
+
+"Better write yourself, Elizabeth," said Percival, in a sad yet cynical
+tone. "You can doubtless say what would bring him back by the next
+steamer."
+
+She made no answer, but set her lips a little more firmly, and gave one
+of the grey ponies a slight touch with the whip. It was the silence that
+caused Percival to see that she was wounded.
+
+"I have a knack of saying what I don't mean," he remarked, rousing
+himself. "I beg your pardon for this and every other rude speech that I
+may make, Elizabeth; and ask you to understand that I am only
+translating my discontent with myself into words when I am ill-tempered.
+Have a little mercy on me, for pity's sake."
+
+She smiled. He thought there was some mockery in the smile.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he said, abruptly, dropping the apologetic
+tone.
+
+"I am not laughing. I was wondering that you thought it worth while to
+excuse yourself for such a trifle as a rude word or two. I thought
+possibly, when I came out with you, that you had other apologies to
+make."
+
+"May I ask what you mean?"
+
+"I mean that, by your own showing, you have not been quite
+straightforward," said Elizabeth, plainly. "And I thought that you might
+have something to say about it."
+
+"Not straightforward!" he repeated. It was not often that his cheeks
+tingled as they tingled now. "What have I done to make you call me not
+straightforward, pray?"
+
+"You knew that I inherited this property because of Brian Luttrell's
+death. You knew--did you not?--that he had only a few days to spend in
+London, and that he meant to start for America this week. You must have
+known that some fresh arrangement was necessary before I could honestly
+enjoy any of his money--that, in fact, he ought to have it all. And,
+unless he himself confided in you under a promise of secrecy, or
+anything of that sort, I think you ought to have written to Mr.
+Colquhoun at once."
+
+"He did not confide in me: I did not see him. It was Dino Vasari who
+sought me out and told me," said Percival, with some anger.
+
+"And did Dino Vasari intend you to keep the matter a secret?"
+
+"No. The real fact was, Elizabeth, that I did not altogether believe
+Vasari's story. I did not in the least believe that Brian Luttrell was
+living. I thought it was a hoax. Upon my word, I am half-inclined to
+believe so still. I thought it was not worth while to take the trouble."
+
+"You did not know where to find him, I suppose?"
+
+"Well--yes; I had the address."
+
+"And you did nothing?" she said, flashing upon him a look of indignant
+surprise.
+
+"I did nothing," returned Percival.
+
+"That is what I complain of," she remarked, shortly.
+
+For some time she drove on in silence, lightly flicking her ponies'
+heads from time to time with her whip, her face set steadily towards the
+road before her, her strong, well-gloved hands showing determination in
+the very way she held the whip and reins. Percival grew savage, and then
+defiant.
+
+"You ask too much," he said, pulling his long moustache, and uttering a
+bitter laugh. "It would have been easy and natural enough to move Heaven
+and earth for the sake of Brian Luttrell's rights, if Brian Luttrell had
+not constituted himself my rival in another domain. But when his
+'rights' meant depriving you of your property, and placing Mr. Stretton
+in authority--I decline."
+
+"I call that mean and base," said Elizabeth, giving the words a low but
+clear-toned emphasis, which made Percival wince.
+
+"Thank you," he said. And there was another long silence, which lasted
+until they drew up at Mr. Colquhoun's door.
+
+Percival waited for nearly an hour before she came back, and had time to
+go through every possible phase of anger and mortification. He felt that
+he had more reason on his side than Elizabeth could understand: the
+doubt of Dino's good faith, which seemed so small to her, had certainly
+influenced him very strongly. No doubt it would have been
+better--wiser--if he had tried to find out the truth of Dino's story;
+but the sting of Elizabeth's judgment lay in the fact that he had
+fervently hoped that Dino's story was not true, and that he had refused
+to meet Dino's offer half-way, the offer that would have secured
+Elizabeth's own happiness. Would she ever hear a full account of that
+interview? And what would she think of his selfishness if she came to
+know it? Ever since that conversation in Mr. Brett's office Percival had
+been conscious of bitter possibilities of evil in his own soul. He had
+had a bad time of it during the past week, and, when he contrasted his
+own conduct with the generous candour and uprightness that Elizabeth
+seemed to expect from him, he was open to confess to himself that he
+fell very short of her standard.
+
+She came back to her place attended by Mr. Colquhoun, who wrapped her
+rugs about her in a fatherly way, and took not the slightest notice of
+Mr. Percival Heron. She had some small purchases to make in the town,
+and it was growing almost dusk before they turned homewards. Then she
+began to speak in her ordinary tone.
+
+"Mr. Colquhoun has been telling me what to do," she said, "and I think
+that he is right. Dino Vasari has already gone back to Italy, but before
+he went, he signed a paper relinquishing all claim to the property in
+favour of Brian Luttrell and myself. Mr. Colquhoun says it was a useless
+thing to do, except as it shows his generosity and kindness of heart,
+and that it would not be valid in a court at all; but that nothing
+farther can be done, as he does not press his claim, until Brian
+Luttrell comes back to England or writes instructions. There might be a
+friendly suit when he came; but that would be left for him (and, I
+suppose, myself) to decide. When he comes we shall try to get Dino
+Vasari back, and have a friendly consultation over the matter. I don't
+see why we need have lawyers to interfere at all. I should resign the
+property with a very good grace, but Mr. Colquhoun thinks that Mr.
+Luttrell will have scruples."
+
+"He ought to have," muttered Percival, but Elizabeth took no notice.
+
+"It seems that he went in a sailing vessel," she went on, in a perfectly
+calm and collected voice, "because he could get a very cheap passage in
+that way. Mr. Colquhoun proposes that we should write to Pernambuco; but
+he might not be expecting any letters--he might miss them--and go up the
+country; there is no knowing. I think that a responsible, intelligent
+person ought to be sent out by a fast steamer and wait for him at
+Pernambuco. Then everything would be satisfactorily explained and
+enforced--better than by letter. Mr. Colquhoun says he feels inclined to
+go himself."
+
+She gave a soft, pleased laugh as she said the words; but there was
+excitement and trouble underneath its apparent lightness. "That, of
+course, would never do; but he has a clerk whom he can thoroughly trust,
+and he will start next week for the Brazils."
+
+Percival sat mute. Had she no idea that he was suffering? She went on
+quickly.
+
+"Mr. Salt--that is the clerk's name--will reach Pernambuco many days
+before the sailing vessel; but it is better that he should be too early
+than too late. They may even pass the _Falcon_--that is the name of Mr.
+Luttrell's ship--on the way. The worst is"--and here her voice began to
+tremble--"that Mr. Colquhoun has heard a report that the _Falcon_ was
+not--not--quite--sea-worthy."
+
+She put up one gloved hand and dashed a tear from her eyes. Percival's
+silence exasperated her. For almost the first time she turned upon him
+with a reproach.
+
+"Will you remember," she said, bitterly, "if his ship goes to the
+bottom, that you might have stopped him, and--did not think it worth
+while to take the trouble?"
+
+"Good God, Elizabeth, how unjust you are!" cried Percival, impetuously.
+
+Elizabeth did not answer. She had to put up her hand again and again to
+wipe away her tears. The strain of self-control had been a severe one,
+and when it once slipped away from her the emotion had to have its own
+way. Percival tried to take the reins from her, but this she would not
+allow; and they were going uphill on a quiet sheltered road of which the
+ponies knew every step as well as he did himself.
+
+When she was calmer, he broke the silence by saying in an oddly-muffled,
+hoarse voice:--
+
+"It is no use going on like this. I suppose you wish our engagement to
+be broken off?"
+
+"I?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Yes, you. Can't I see that you care more for this man Stretton or
+Luttrell than you care for me? I don't want my wife to be always sighing
+after another man."
+
+"That you would not have," she said, coldly.
+
+"I don't care. I know now what you feel. And if Stretton comes back, I
+suppose I must go to the wall."
+
+"I will keep my word to you if you like," said Elizabeth, after a
+moment's pause. She could not speak more graciously. "I did not think of
+breaking off the engagement: I thought that matter was decided."
+
+"You called me mean and base just now, and you expect me to put up with
+it. You think me a low, selfish brute. I may be all that, and not want
+you to tell me so." Some of Percival's sense of humour--a little more
+grim than usual--was perceptible in the last few words.
+
+"I am sorry if I told you so. I will not tell you so again."
+
+"But you will feel it."
+
+"If you are low and base and mean, of course, I shall feel it," said
+Elizabeth, incisively. "It rests with you to show me that you are not
+what you say."
+
+Percival found no word to answer. They were near Strathleckie by this
+time, and turned in at the gates without the exchange of another
+sentence.
+
+Elizabeth expected him to insist upon going back to London that night,
+or, at least, early next morning, but he did not propose to do so. He
+hung about the place next day, smoking, and speaking little, with a
+certain yellowness of tint in his complexion, which denoted physical as
+well as mental disturbance. In the afternoon he went to Dunmuir, and was
+away for some hours; and more than one telegram arrived for him in the
+course of the day, exciting Mrs. Heron's fears lest something should
+have "gone wrong" with his business affairs in London. But he assured
+her, on his return, with his usual impatient frown, that everything was
+going exactly as he would like it to do. It was with one of the
+telegraphic despatches crushed up in his hand, that he came to Elizabeth
+as she sat in the drawing-room after dinner, and said, with a little
+paleness visible about his lips:--
+
+"Can I speak to you for a few moments alone?"
+
+She looked up, startled; then rose and led the way to an inner
+drawing-room, where they would be undisturbed. She seated herself in the
+chair, which, with unwonted ceremoniousness, he wheeled forward for her;
+but he himself stood on the hearth-rug, twisting and untwisting the
+paper in his hand, as if--extraordinary occurrence!--as if he were
+actually nervous.
+
+"I have a proposition to make to you," he said. He uttered his words
+very rapidly, but made long pauses between some of the sentences. "You
+say that Mr. Colquhoun is going to send out his clerk, Salt, to stop
+Brian Luttrell when he lands at Pernambuco. I have just seen Mr.
+Colquhoun, and he agrees with me that this proceeding is of very
+doubtful utility.... Now, don't interrupt me, I beg. If I throw cold
+water on this plan, it is only that I may suggest another which I think
+better.... Salt is a mere clerk: we cannot tell him all the
+circumstances, and the arguments that he will use will probably be such
+as a man like Luttrell will despise. I mean that he will put it on the
+ground of Luttrell's own interests--not Dino Vasari's, or--or yours....
+What I propose is that someone should go who knows the story intimately,
+who knows the relations of all the parties.... If you like to trust me,
+I will do my best to bring Brian Luttrell home again."
+
+"You!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Oh, Percival, no."
+
+"And why not? I assure you I will act carefully, and I am sure I shall
+succeed. I have even persuaded Mr. Colquhoun of my good intentions--with
+some difficulty, I confess. Here is a note from him to you. He read it
+to me after writing it, and I know what he advises you to do."
+
+Elizabeth read the note. It consisted only of these words: "If you can
+make up your mind to let Mr. Percival Heron go in Salt's place, I think
+it would be the better plan.--J. C."
+
+"I'll be on my good behaviour, I promise you," said Percival, watching
+her, with lightness of tone which was rather belied by the mournful
+expression of his eyes. "I'll play no tricks, either with him or myself;
+and bring him safely back to Scotland--on my honour, I will. Do you
+distrust me so much, Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, no, no. Would it not be painful to you? I thought--you did not like
+Mr. Luttrell." She spoke with great hesitation.
+
+Percival made a grimace. "I don't say that I do like him. I mean to say
+that I want to show you--and myself--that I do--a little bit--regret my
+silence, and will try my best to remedy the mischief caused by it. A
+frank confession which ought to please you."
+
+"It does please me. I am sure of it. But you must not go--you must not
+leave your work----"
+
+"Oh, my work can be easily done by somebody else. That is what this
+telegram is about, by-the-bye. I must send an answer, and it depends
+upon your decision."
+
+"Can I not consult any one? My uncle? Mr. Colquhoun?"
+
+"You know Mr. Colquhoun's opinion. My father will think exactly as you
+and I do. No, it depends entirely upon whether you think I shall do your
+errand well, Elizabeth, and whether you will give me the chance of
+showing that I am not so ungenerous and so base as you say you think me.
+Tell me to fetch Brian Luttrell home again, and I will go."
+
+And, with tears in her eyes, Elizabeth said, "Go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DINO'S HOME-COMING.
+
+
+"It is to be understood," said Percival, two or three days later, with
+an affectation of great precision, "that I surrender none of my rights
+by going on this wild-goose chase. I shall come back in a few months'
+time to claim my bride."
+
+Elizabeth smiled rather sadly. "Very well," she said.
+
+"In fact," Percival went on expansively, "I shall expect the wedding to
+be arranged for the day after my arrival, whenever that takes place. So
+get your white gown and lace veil ready, and we will have Brian Luttrell
+as best man, and Dino Vasari to give you away."
+
+It was rather cruel jesting, thought Elizabeth; but then Percival was in
+the habit, when he was in a good humour, of turning his deepest feelings
+into jest. The submission with which she listened to him, roused him
+after a time to a perception that his words were somewhat painful to
+her; and he relapsed into a silence which he broke by saying in an
+entirely different sort of voice:--
+
+"Have you no message for Brian Luttrell, Elizabeth?"
+
+"You know all that I want to say."
+
+"But is there nothing else? No special message of remembrance and
+friendship?"
+
+"Tell him," said Elizabeth, flushing and then paling again, "that I
+shall not be happy until he comes back and takes what is his own."
+
+"Well, I can't say anything much stronger," said Percival, drily. "I
+will remember."
+
+They talked no more about themselves, until the day on which he was to
+start, and then, when he was about to take his leave of her, he said, in
+a very low voice:--
+
+"Do you mean to be true to me or not when Luttrell comes home,
+Elizabeth?"
+
+"I shall keep my word to you, Percival. Oh, don't--don't--say that to me
+again!" she cried, bursting into tears, as she saw the lurking doubt
+that so constantly haunted his mind.
+
+"I won't," he said. "I will never say it again if you tell me that you
+trust me as I trust you."
+
+"I do trust you."
+
+"And I am not so base and mean as you said I was?"
+
+For, perhaps, the first time in her life, she kissed him of her own
+accord. It was with this kiss burning upon his lips that Percival leaned
+out of the window of the railway-carriage as the train steamed away into
+the darkness, and waved a last farewell to the woman he loved.
+
+He had been rather imperious and masterful during the last few days; he
+felt conscious of it now, and was half-sorry for it. It had seemed to
+him that, if he did this thing for Brian Luttrell, he had at least the
+right to some reward. And he claimed his reward beforehand, in the shape
+of close companionship and gentle words from Elizabeth. He did not
+compel her to kiss him--he remembered his magnanimity in that respect
+with some complacency--but he had demanded many other signs of
+good-fellowship. And she had seemed ready enough to render them. She had
+wanted to go with him and Mr. Heron to London, and help him to prepare
+for the voyage. But he would not allow her to leave Strathleckie. He had
+only a couple of days to spare, and he should be hurried and busy. He
+preferred saying good-bye to her at Dunmuir.
+
+The reason of his going was kept a profound secret from all the Herons
+except the father, who gave his consent to the plan cordially, though
+with some surprise.
+
+"But what will become of your profession?" he had asked of Percival.
+"Won't three or four months' absence put you sadly out of the running?"
+
+"You forget my prospects," Percival replied, with his ready, cynical
+laugh. "When I've squared the matter with Brian Luttrell, and married
+Elizabeth, I shall have no need to think of my profession." Mr. Heron
+shifted his eye-glasses on his nose uneasily, and screwed up his face
+into an expression of mild disapproval, but couldn't think of any
+suitable reply. "Besides," said Percival, "I've got a commission to do
+some papers on Brazilian life. The _Evening Mail_ will take them. And I
+am going to write a book on 'Modern Morality' as I go out. I fully
+expect to make my literary work pay my travelling expenses, sir."
+
+"I thought Elizabeth paid those," said Mr. Heron, in a hesitating sort
+of way.
+
+"Well, she thinks she will do so," said Percival, "and that's all she
+need know about the matter."
+
+Mr. Colquhoun, to whom Elizabeth had gone for advice on the day after
+Percival's proposition, was very cautious in what he said to her. "It's
+the best plan in the world," he remarked, "in one way."
+
+"In what way?" asked Elizabeth, anxiously.
+
+"Well, Mr. Heron goes as your affianced husband, does he not? Of course,
+he can represent your interests better than anybody else."
+
+"I thought he was going to prevent my interests from being too well
+represented," said Elizabeth, half-smiling. "I want him to make Mr.
+Luttrell understand that I have no desire to keep the property at all."
+
+"There is one drawback," said Mr. Colquhoun, "and one that I don't see
+how Mr. Heron will get over. He has never seen Brian, has he? How will
+he recognise him? For the lad's probably gone under another name. It's
+just a wild-goose chase that he's starting upon, I'm afraid."
+
+"They have seen each other."
+
+"Mr. Heron didn't tell me that. And where was it they saw each other,
+Miss Murray?"
+
+"In Italy--and here. Here at Strathleckie. Oh, Mr. Colquhoun, it was
+Brian Luttrell who came with us as the boys' tutor, and we did not know.
+He called himself Stretton." And then Elizabeth shed a small tear or
+two, although she did not exactly know why.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun's wrath and astonishment were not to be described. That
+Brian should have been so near him, and that they should have never met!
+"I should have known him anywhere!" cried the old man. "Grey hair! do
+you tell me? What difference does that make to a man that knew him all
+his life, and his father before him? And a beard, you say? Toots! beard
+or no beard, I should have known Brian Luttrell anywhere."
+
+Angela Vivian, being taken into their confidence, supplied them with
+several photographs of Brian in his earlier days. And Percival was
+admitted to Netherglen to look at a portrait of the brothers (or reputed
+brothers), painted not long before Richard's death. He looked at it long
+and carefully, but acknowledged afterwards that he could not see any
+likeness between his memories of Mr. Stretton and the pictured face,
+with its fine contour, brown moustache, and smiling eyes, a face in
+which an expression of slight melancholy seemed to be the index to
+intense susceptibility of temperament and great refinement of mind. "The
+eyes are like Stretton's," he said, "and that is all." He took two of
+the photographs with him, however, as part of his equipment.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell continued in the state in which she had been found after
+her interview with Dino. She could not speak: she could not move: her
+eyes had an awful consciousness in them which told that she was living
+and knew what was going on around her: otherwise she might easily have
+been mistaken for one already dead. It was difficult to imagine that she
+understood the words spoken in her presence, and for some time her
+attendants did not realise this fact, and spoke with less caution than
+they might have done respecting the affairs of the neighbourhood. But
+when the doctor had declared that her mind was unimpaired, Mr. Colquhoun
+thought it better to come and give her some account of the things that
+had been done during her illness, on the mere chance that she might hear
+and understand. He told her that Dino had gone to Italy, that Brian had
+sailed for South America, and that Percival Heron had gone to fetch him
+back, in order to make some arrangement about the property which
+Elizabeth Murray wished to give up to him. He thought that there was a
+look of relief in her eyes when he had finished; but he could not be
+sure.
+
+Hugo, after staying for some days at the hotel in Dunmuir, ventured
+rather timidly back to Netherglen. Now that Dino was out of the way, he
+did not see why he should not make use of his opportunities. He entered
+the door of his old home, it was true, with a sort of superstitious
+terror upon him: Dino had obtained a remarkable power over his mind, and
+if he had been either in England or Scotland, Hugo would never have
+dared to present himself at Netherglen. But his acquaintances and
+friends--even Angela--thought his absence so strange, that he was
+encouraged to pay a call at his aunt's house, and when there, he was
+led, almost against his will, straight into her presence. He had heard
+that she could not speak or move; but he was hardly prepared for the
+spectacle of complete helplessness that met his gaze. There might be
+dread and loathing in the eyes that looked at him out of that impassive
+face; but there was no possibility of the utterance by word of mouth. An
+eternal silence seemed to have fallen upon Margaret Luttrell: her
+bitterest enemy might come and go before her, and against none of his
+devices could she protect herself.
+
+While looking at her, a thought flashed across Hugo's mind, and matured
+itself later in the day into a complete plan of action. He remembered
+the will that Mrs. Luttrell had made in his favour. Had that will ever
+been signed? By the curious brusqueness with which Mr. Colquhoun had
+lately treated him, he fancied that it had. If it was signed, he was the
+heir; he would be the master ultimately of Netherglen. Why should he go
+away? Dino Vasari had ordered him never to come again into Mrs.
+Luttrell's presence; but Dino Vasari was now shut up in some Italian
+monastery, and was not likely to hear very much about the affairs of a
+remote country-house in Scotland. At any rate, when Mrs. Luttrell was
+dead, even Dino could not object to Hugo's taking possession of his own
+house. When Mrs. Luttrell was dead! And when would she die?
+
+The doctor, whom Hugo consulted with great professions of affection for
+his aunt, gave little hope of long life for her. He wondered, he said,
+that she had survived the stroke that deprived her of speech and the use
+of her limbs: a few weeks or months, in his opinion, would see the end.
+
+Hugo considered the situation very seriously. It would be better for him
+to stay at Netherglen, where he could ascertain his aunt's condition
+from time to time, and be sure that there were no signs of returning
+speech and muscular power. Dared he risk disobedience to Dino's command?
+On deliberation, he thought he dare. Dino could prove nothing against
+him: it would be assertion against assertion, that was all. And most
+people would look on the accusations that Dino would bring as positive
+slander. Hugo felt that his greatest danger lay in his own
+cowardice--his absence of self-control and superstitious fear of Dino's
+eye. But if the young monk were out of England there was no present
+reason to be afraid. And when such a piece of luck had occurred as Mrs.
+Luttrell's paralytic stroke seemed likely to prove to Hugo, it would be
+folly to take no advantage of it. Hugo had had one or two wonderful
+strokes of luck in his life; but he told himself that this was the
+greatest of all. He was rather inclined to attribute it to his
+possession of a medal which had been blessed by the Pope (for, as far as
+he had any religion at all, Hugo was still a Romanist), which his mother
+had hung round his neck whilst he was a chubby-faced boy in Sicily. He
+wore it still, and was not at all above considering it as a charm for
+ensuring him a larger slice of good fortune than would otherwise have
+fallen to his share. And, therefore, in a few days after Mrs. Luttrell's
+seizure, Hugo was once again at Netherglen, ruling even more openly and
+imperiously than he had done in the days of his aunt's health and
+strength. His presence there, and Mrs. Luttrell's helplessness, caused
+some of Angela Vivian's friends to object seriously to her continued
+residence at Netherglen. She was still a young woman of considerable
+beauty; and Hugo was two-and-twenty. Of what use could she be to Mrs.
+Luttrell? She ought, at any rate, to have an older friend to chaperone
+her, to be with her in her walks and drives, and be present at the meals
+which she and Hugo now shared alone. Angela took little notice of the
+remonstrance of aunts and cousins, but when she heard that her brother
+Rupert was coming to stay at the Herons, and proposed to spend a day or
+two at Netherglen on his way thither, she felt a qualm of fear. Rupert
+was very careful of his sister: she felt sure that she would never be
+permitted to do what he thought in the least degree unbecoming.
+
+Meanwhile, the man who had resolved to be known as Dino Vasari for his
+lifetime--or at least until he laid down his name, together with his
+will, his affections, and all his other possessions at the door of the
+religious house which he desired to enter, was hastening towards his old
+home, his birthplace, (whether he was Dino Vasari or Brian Luttrell)
+under sunny Italian skies. He did not quite dare to think how he should
+be received. He had thwarted the plans of the far-seeing monks: he had
+made their anxious efforts for his welfare of no avail. He had thrown
+away the chance of an inheritance which might have been used for the
+benefit of his Church: would the rulers of that Church easily forgive
+him?
+
+He reached San Stefano at night, and took up his quarters at the inn,
+whence he wrote a letter to the Prior, asking to be allowed to see him,
+and hinting at his wish to enter the monastery for life. Perhaps the
+humility of the tone of his epistle made Father Cristoforo suspect that
+something was wrong. To begin with, Dino was not supposed to act without
+the advice of those who had hitherto been his guardians, and he had
+committed an act of grave insubordination in leaving England without
+their permission. The priest to whom he had reported himself on his
+arrival in London, had already complained to Father Cristoforo of the
+young man's self-reliant spirit, and a further letter had given some
+account of "very unsatisfactory proceedings" on Dino's part--of a
+refusal to tell where he had been or what he had been doing, and,
+finally, of his sudden and unauthorised departure from British shores.
+This letter had not tended to put Father Cristoforo into charity with
+his late pupil--child of the house, as, in a certain sense, he had been
+for many years, and special pet and favourite with the Prior--he was
+rather inclined to order Dino back to England without loss of time.
+Padre Cristoforo set a high value upon that inheritance in Scotland. He
+wished to secure it for Dino--still more for the Church.
+
+He sent back a curt verbal answer. Dino might come to the cloisters on
+the following morning after early mass. The Prior would meet him there
+as he came from the monastery chapel.
+
+Dino was waiting at the appointed hour. In spite of the displeasure
+implied in Padre Cristoforo's message, his heart was swelling with
+delight at the sight of the well-known Italian hills, at the sunshine
+and the sweet scents that came to him with the crystal clearness of the
+Italian atmosphere. He loved the white walls of the monastery, the
+vine-clad slopes and olive groves around it, the glimpses of purple sea
+which one caught from time to time in the openings left in the
+chestnut-woods, where he had wandered so often when he was a boy. These
+things were dear to Dino: he had loved them all his life, and it was a
+veritable home-coming to him when he presented himself at San Stefano.
+
+And yet the home-coming would not be without its peculiar trials. Never
+once had Father Cristoforo been seriously angry with him, and the habit
+of obedience, of almost filial reverence, reviving in Dino's heart as he
+approached the monastery precincts, made him think with some awe of the
+severity which the Prior's face had sometimes shown to impenitent
+culprits. Was he impenitent? He did not know. Was he afraid? No, Dino
+assured himself, looking up to the purple mountains and the cloudless
+sky, with a grave smile of recognition and profound content, he was
+afraid of nothing now.
+
+He waited until the service was over. The peal of the organ, the sound
+of the monks' chant, reached him where he stood, but he did not enter
+the little chapel. A sense of unworthiness came over him. As the short,
+sharp stroke of the bell smote upon his ear, he fell upon his knees, and
+rested his forehead against the wall. Old words of prayer rose
+familiarly to his lips. He remembered his sins of omission and
+commission--venial faults they would seem, to many of us, but black and
+heinous in pure-hearted Dino's eyes--and pleaded passionately for their
+forgiveness. And then the words turned into a prayer for the welfare of
+his friend Brian and the woman that Brian loved. Dino was one of those
+rare souls who love their neighbour better than themselves.
+
+The Prior quitted the chapel at last, and approached his former pupil.
+He did not come alone, but the brothers who followed him kept at some
+little distance. Some of the other occupants of the monastery--monks,
+lay-brothers, pupils--occasionally passed by, but they did not even lift
+their eyes. Still, there was a certain sense of publicity about the
+interview which made Dino feel that he was not to be welcomed--only
+judged.
+
+Father Cristoforo's face was terrible in its very impassiveness. There
+was no trace of emotion in those rigidly-set features and piercing eyes.
+He looked at Dino for some minutes before he spoke. The young man
+retained his kneeling posture until the Prior said, briefly--
+
+"Rise."
+
+Dino stood up immediately, with folded arms and bowed head. It was not
+his part to speak till he was questioned.
+
+"You left England without permission," said the Prior in a dry tone,
+rather of assertion than of inquiry.
+
+"Reverend Father, yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"There was no reason for me to stay in England. The estate is not mine."
+
+"Who says it is not?"
+
+"Reverend Father, I cannot take it away from those to whom it now
+belongs," said Dino, faltering, and growing red and white by turns.
+
+The Prior looked at him with an examining eye. In spite of his apparent
+coldness, he was shocked by the change that he perceived in his old
+pupil's bearing and appearance. The finely-cut face was wasted; there
+were hollows in the temples and the cheeks, the dew of perspiration upon
+the forehead marked physical weakness as well as agitation. There was
+more kindness in the Prior's manner as he said:--
+
+"You felt, perhaps, the need of rest? The English winds are keen. You
+came to recruit yourself before going back to fight your cause in a
+court of law? You wanted help and counsel?"
+
+Dino's head sank lower upon his breast: he breathed quickly, and did not
+speak.
+
+"Had you not proof sufficient? I sent all necessary papers by a trusty
+messenger. You received them?"
+
+"Yes." Dino's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper.
+
+"You have them with you?"
+
+Dino flashed one look of appeal into the Prior's face, and then sank on
+his knees. "Father," he said, desperately, "I have not done as you
+commanded me. I could not fight this cause. I could not turn them out of
+their inheritance--their home. I destroyed all the papers. There is no
+proof left."
+
+In spite of his self-possession the Prior started. Of this contingency
+he had certainly never thought. He came a step nearer to the young man,
+and spoke with astonished urgency.
+
+"You destroyed the proofs? You? Every one of them?"
+
+"Every one."
+
+A sudden white change passed over Padre Cristoforo's face. His lips
+locked themselves together until they looked like a single line; his
+eyes flashed ominously beneath his heavy brows. In his anger he did, as
+he was privileged to do to any inferior member of his community,
+forgetting that Dino Vasari, with his five-and-twenty years, had passed
+from under his control, and was free to resent an offered indignity. But
+Dino had laid himself open to rebuke by adopting the tone of a penitent.
+Thence it came that the Prior lifted his hand and struck him, as he
+sometimes struck an offending novice--struck him sharply across the
+face. Dino turned scarlet, and then white as death; he sank a little
+lower, and crushed his thin fingers more closely together, but he did
+not speak. For a moment there was silence. The waiting monks, the
+passing pupils who saw the blow given and received, wondered what had
+been the offence of one who used to be considered the brightest ornament
+of the monastic school, the pride and glory of his teachers. His fault
+must be grave, indeed, if it could move the Prior to such wrath.
+
+Padre Cristoforo stood with his hand lifted as if he meant to repeat the
+blow; then it fell slowly to his side. He gathered his loose, black robe
+round him, as though he would not let his skirts touch the kneeling
+figure before him--the scorn of his gesture was unmistakable--and
+hastily turned away. As he went, Dino fell on his face on the marble
+pavement, crushed by the silence rather than the blow. Monks and pupils,
+following the Prior, passed their old companion, and did not dare to
+speak a word of greeting.
+
+But Dino would not move. A wave of religious fervour, of passionate
+yearning for the old devotional life, had come across him. He might die
+on the pavement of the cloister; he would not be sorry even to die and
+have done with the manifold perplexities of life; but he would not rise
+until the Prior--the only father and protector that he had ever
+known--bade him rise. And so he lay, while the noon-day sunlight waxed
+and waned, and the drowsy afternoon declined to dewy eve, and the purple
+twilight faded into night. If the hours seemed long or short, he could
+not tell. A sort of stupor came over him. He knew not what was going on
+around him; dimly he heard feet and voices, and the sound of bells and
+music, but which of the sounds came to him in dreams, and which were
+realities, he could not tell. It was certainly a dream that Brian and
+Elizabeth stood beside him hand-in-hand, and told him to take courage.
+That, as he knew afterwards, was quite too impossible to be true. But it
+was a dream that brought him peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+BY LAND AND SEA.
+
+
+At night the Prior sent for him. Dino's hearing was dulled by fatigue
+and fasting: he did not understand at first what was said. But,
+by-and-bye, he knew that he was ordered to go into the guest-room, where
+the Prior awaited his coming. The command gave Dino an additional pang:
+the guest-room was for strangers, not for one who had been as a child of
+the house. But he lifted himself up feebly from the cold stones, and
+followed the lay-brother, who had brought the message, to the appointed
+place.
+
+The Prior was an austere man, but not devoid of compassion, nor even of
+sympathy. He received Dino with no relaxation of his rather grim
+features, but told him to eat and drink before speaking. "I will not
+talk to you fasting," he said; and Dino felt conscious of some touch of
+compassion in the old man's eyes as he looked at him.
+
+Dino sat, therefore, and tried to eat and drink, but the effort was
+almost in vain. When he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of bread and water
+mixed with a little wine, which was all that he could touch, he stood up
+in token that he was ready for the Prior's questions; and Father
+Cristoforo, who had meanwhile been walking up and down the room with a
+restless air, at once stopped short and began to speak.
+
+Let it be remembered that Dino felt towards this rugged-faced,
+stern-voiced priest as loving as a son feels towards a wise father. His
+affections were strong; and he had few objects on which to expend them.
+The Prior's anger meant to him not merely the displeasure of one in
+authority, but the loss of a love which had shielded and enveloped him
+ever since he came to the monastery-school when he was ten years old. He
+seemed to have an absolute need of it; without it, life was impossible
+to go on.
+
+Father Cristoforo was not without visitings of the same sort of feeling;
+but he allowed no trace of such soft-heartedness to appear as he put
+Dino through a searching examination concerning the way in which he had
+spent his time in England. Dino answered his questions fully and
+clearly: he had nothing that he wished to hide. Even the Prior could not
+accuse him of a wish to excuse himself. He told the story of his
+interview with Hugo, of the dinner, of Hugo's attack upon him, and of
+his sojourn in the hospital, where Brian had sought him out and
+convinced him (without knowing that he was doing so) of his innocence
+with respect to Hugo's plot. Then came the story of his intercourse with
+Brian, his discovery that Brian's happiness hinged upon his love for
+Elizabeth Murray, and his attempts to unravel the very tangled skein of
+his friend's fortunes. Mr. Brett's opinion of the case, Brian's letter
+to Mrs. Luttrell, Dino's own visit to Scotland, with its varied effects,
+including the final destruction of the papers--all this was quietly and
+fully detailed, with an occasional interruption only from Padre
+Cristoforo in the shape of a question or a muttered comment. And when
+the whole story was told the Prior spoke.
+
+Everything that Dino had done was, of course, wrong. He ought never to
+have seen Hugo, or dined with him: he ought to have gone to Father
+Connolly, the priest to whose care he had been recommended, as soon as
+he came out of hospital: he ought never to have interfered in Brian's
+love affairs, nor gone to Scotland, nor sought to impose conditions on
+Mrs. Luttrell, nor, in short, done any of the thousand and one things
+that he had done. As for the destruction of the papers, it was a point
+on which he (Father Cristoforo) hardly dared, he said, with a shrug of
+his shoulders, to touch. The base ingratitude, the unfaithfulness to the
+interests of the Church, the presumption, the pride, the wilfulness,
+manifested in that action, transcended all his powers of reprobation.
+The matter must be referred to a higher authority than his. And so
+forth. And every word he said was like a dagger planted in Dino's
+breast.
+
+As for his desire to be a monk, the Prior repudiated the notion with
+contempt. Dino Vasari a monk, after this lapse from obedience and
+humility? He was not fit to do the humblest work of the lowest servant
+of those who lived by the altar. He had not even shown common penitence
+for his sin. Let him do that: let him humble himself: let him sit in
+dust and ashes, metaphorically speaking: and then, by-and-bye, the
+Church might open her arms to him, and listen to the voice of his
+prayer. But now--Father Cristoforo declined even to hear any formal
+confession: his pupil must wait and prepare himself, before he was fit
+for the sacrament of penance.
+
+To Dino, this was a hard sentence. He did not know that the Prior was
+secretly much better satisfied with his submissive state of mind than he
+chose to allow, or that he had made up his mind to relax his severity on
+the morrow. Just for this one night the Prior had resolved to be stern
+and harsh. "I will make him eat dust," he said to himself, out of his
+real vexation and disappointment, as he looked vengefully at Dino, who
+was lying face downwards on the ground, weeping with all the
+self-abandonment of his nature. "He must never rebel again." The Prior
+knew that his measures were generally effectual: he meant to take strong
+ones now.
+
+"There is something more in it that I can understand," he murmured to
+himself, presently, after he had taken a few turns up and down the room.
+He halted beside Dino's prostrate form, and looked down upon it with a
+hidden gentleness shining out of his deep-set eyes. But he would not
+speak gently. "You have not told me all," he said. "Rise: let me see
+your face."
+
+Dino struggled to his knees, and, after a moment's hesitation, dropped
+his hands to his sides.
+
+"What else have you to tell me?" said the priest, fixing his eyes on the
+young man's face, as if he could read the secrets of his soul.
+
+"I have told you all that I did," stammered Dino.
+
+"But not all that you thought."
+
+There was a short silence. Then Dino spoke again, in short-broken
+sentences, which at times the Prior could scarcely hear.
+
+"Reverend Father, there is one thought, one feeling. I do not know what
+it is. I am haunted by a face which never leaves me. And yet I saw it
+twice only: once in a picture and once in life; but it comes between me
+and my prayers. I cannot forget her."
+
+"Whose face was this?" asked the Prior, with the subtle change of eye
+and lip which showed that Dino's answer had fulfilled his expectations.
+"Her name?"
+
+But the name that Dino murmured was not one that Padre Cristoforo had
+expected to hear from him.
+
+"Elizabeth Murray!" he repeated. "The woman that Brian Luttrell
+loves--for whose sake you gave up your inheritance--that you might not
+turn her out. The mystery is solved. I see the motive now. You love this
+woman."
+
+"And if I have loved her, if I do love her," said Dino, passionately,
+his whole face lighting up with impetuous feeling, and his hands
+trembling as they clasped each other, "it is no sin to love."
+
+The Prior gave him a long, steady gaze. "You have sacrificed your faith
+to your love," he said, "and that is a sin. You have forgotten your
+obedience to the Church for a woman's sake--and that is a sin. Lastly,
+you come here professing a monk's vocation, yet acknowledging--with
+reluctance--that this woman's face comes between you and your prayers. I
+do not say that this is a sin, but I say that you had better leave us
+to-morrow, for you have proved yourself unfit for the life that we lead
+at San Stefano. Go back to Scotland and marry. Or, if you cannot do
+that, we will give you money, and start you in some professional career;
+your aims are too low, your will is too weak, for us."
+
+Again the Prior was not quite in earnest. He wanted to try the strength
+of his pupil's resolve. But when Dino said, "I will not leave you, I
+will tend the vines and the goats at your door, but I will never go
+away," the priest felt a revival of all the old tenderness which he had
+been used to lavish silently on the brown-eyed boy who had come to him
+from old Assunta.
+
+"I will not go!" cried Dino. "I have no one in the world but you. Ah, my
+father, will you never forgive me?"
+
+"It is not my forgiveness you need," said the Prior, shortly. "But come,
+the hour is late. We will give you shelter for the night, at least."
+
+"Let me go to the chapel first," pleaded Dino, in a voice which had
+suddenly grown faint. "I dared not enter it this morning, but now let me
+pray there for a little while. I must ask forgiveness there."
+
+"Pray there if you choose," said the Prior; "and pray for the penitence
+which you have yet to learn. When that is won, then talk of
+forgiveness."
+
+He coldly withdrew the hand that Dino tried to kiss; he left the room
+without uttering one word of comfort or encouragement. It was good for
+his pupil, he thought, to be driven well-nigh to despair.
+
+Dino, left to himself, remained for a few minutes in the posture in
+which the Prior had left him; then rose and made his way, slowly and
+feebly, to the little monastery chapel, where a solitary lamp swung
+before the altar, and a flood of moonlight fell through the coloured
+panes of the clerestory windows. Dino stood passive in that flood of
+moonlight, almost forgetting why he had come. His brain was dizzy, his
+heart was sick. His mind was distracted with the thought of a guilt
+which he did not feel to be his own, of sin for which his conscience did
+not smite him. For, with a strange commingling of clear-sightedness and
+submission to authority, he still believed that he had done perfectly
+right in giving up his claim to the Scotch estate, and yet, with all his
+heart, desired to feel that he had done wrong. And when the words with
+which Father Cristoforo had reproached him came back to his mind, his
+burden seemed greater than he could bear. With a moan of pain he sank
+down close beside the altar-steps. And there, through the midnight
+hours, he lay alone and wrestled with himself.
+
+It was no use. Everything fell from him in that hour except that faith
+and that love which had been the controlling powers of his life. He had
+loved Brian as a brother; and he had done well: he had loved
+Elizabeth--though he had not known that the dreaming fancies which had
+lately centred round her deserved the name which the Prior had given to
+them--and he had not done ill; and it was right that he should give to
+them, what might, perhaps, avail to make their lives a little
+happier--at any rate all that he had to give. The Prior had said that he
+was wrong. And would the good God, whom he had always loved and
+worshipped from the days of his earliest boyhood, would the Good God
+condemn him, too! He did not think so. He was not sorry for what he had
+done at all.
+
+No, he did not repent.
+
+But how would it fare with him next day if he told the Prior this, the
+inmost conviction of his heart? He would be told again that he was not
+fit to be a monk. And the desire to be a monk--curious as it may seem to
+us--had grown up with Dino as a beautiful ideal. Was he now to be thrust
+out into the world--the world where men stole and lied and stabbed each
+other in the dark, all for the sake of a few acres of land or a handful
+of gold pieces--and denied the hard, ascetic, yet tranquil and
+finely-ordered life which he had hoped to lead, when he put on his
+monkish robe, for the remainder of his days?
+
+Dino was an enthusiast: he might, perhaps, have been disenchanted if he
+had lived as one of themselves amongst the brethren who seemed to him so
+enviable; but just now his whole being rose in revolt against a decision
+which deprived him of all that he had been taught to consider blessed.
+
+Then a strange revulsion of feeling came. There were good men in the
+world, he remembered, as well as bad: there were beautiful women; there
+was art, and music, and much that makes life seem worth living. Why,
+after all, if the monks rejected him, should he not go to the world and
+take his pleasure there like other men? And there came a vision of
+Elizabeth, with her pale face turned to him in pity, and her hand
+beckoning him to follow her. Then, after a little interval, he came to
+himself, and knew that his mind had wandered; and so, in order to steady
+his thoughts, he began to speak aloud, and a novice, who had been sent
+to say a certain number of prayers at that hour in church by way of
+penance, started from a fitful slumber on his knees, and heard the words
+that Dino said. They sounded strange to the young novice: he repeated
+them next day with a sense that he might be uttering blasphemy, and was
+very much astonished when the Prior drew his hand across his eyes as if
+to wipe away a tear, and did not seem horrified in the very least. And
+this was what Dino said:--
+
+"Wrong! Wrong! All wrong! And yet it seemed right to love God's
+creatures.... Perhaps I loved them too much. So I am punished.... But,
+after all, He knows: He understands. If they put me out of His church,
+perhaps He will let me serve Him somewhere--somehow--I don't know where:
+He knows. Oh, my God, if I have loved another more than Thee, forgive
+me ... and let me rest ... for I am tired--tired--tired----"
+
+The voice sank into an inarticulate murmur, in which the novice,
+frightened and perplexed, could not distinguish words. Then there was
+silence. One little sigh escaped those lips, and that was all. The
+novice turned and fled, terrified at those words of prayer, which seemed
+to him so different from any that he had ever heard--so different that
+they must be wrong!
+
+At four in the morning the monks came in to chant their morning prayer.
+One by one they dropped into their places, scarcely noticing the
+prostrate figure before the altar-steps. It was usual enough for one of
+their number, or even a stranger staying in the monastery, to humiliate
+himself in that manner as a public penance. The Prior only gave a little
+start, as if an electric shock passed through his frame, when, on taking
+his seat in the choir, his eye fell upon that motionless form. But he
+did not leave his place until the last prayer had been said, the last
+psalm chanted. Then he rose and walked deliberately to the place where
+Dino lay, and laid his hand upon his head.
+
+"My son!" he said, gently. There was a great fear in his face, a tremor
+of startled emotion in his voice. "Dino, my beloved! I pardon thee."
+
+But Dino did not hear. His prayer had been granted him; he was at rest.
+God had been more merciful than man. The Prior's pardon came too late.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And far away, on a southern sea, where each great wave threatened to
+engulf the tiny boat which seemed like a child's toy thrown upon the
+waters, three men were struggling for dear life--for the life that Dino
+Vasari had been so ready to lay down--toiling, with broken oars, and
+roughly-fashioned sails, and ragged streamers as signals of distress, to
+win their way back to solid land, and live once more with their fellows
+the common but precious life of common men.
+
+They had narrowly escaped death by fire, and were fast losing hope of
+ultimate rescue. For five days they had been tossing on the waves of the
+Southern Atlantic, and they had seen as yet no sign of land; no friendly
+sail bearing down upon them to bring relief. Their stock of food was
+scanty, the water supply had now entirely failed. The tortures of a
+raging thirst under a sultry sky had begun: the men's lips were black
+and swollen, their bloodshot eyes searched the horizon in anguished,
+fruitless yearning. There was no cloud in all the great expanse of blue:
+there was nothing to be seen between sea and sky but this one frail boat
+with its three occupants. Another and a larger boat had set out with
+them, but they had lost sight of it in the night. There had been five
+men in this little cockle-shell when they left the ship; but one of them
+had lost his senses and jumped over-board, drowning before their very
+eyes; and one, a mere lad, had died on the second day from injuries
+received on board the burning vessel. And of the three who were left, it
+seemed as if one, at least, would speedily succumb to the exposure and
+privations which they had been driven to endure.
+
+This man lay prostrate at the bottom of the boat. He could hold out no
+longer. His half-closed eyes, his open mouth and swollen features showed
+the suffering which had brought him to this pass. Another man sat bowed
+together in a kind of torpor. A third, the oldest and most experienced
+of the party, kept his hand upon the tiller; but there was a sullen
+hopelessness in his air, a nerveless dejection in the pose of his limbs,
+which showed that he had neither strength nor inclination to fight much
+longer against fate.
+
+It was at nine o'clock on the fifth day of their perilous voyage, that
+the steersman lifted up his eyes, and saw a faint trail of smoke on the
+horizon. He uttered a hoarse, inarticulate cry, and rose up, pointing
+with one shaking finger to the distant sign. "A steamer!" He could say
+nothing more, but the word was enough. It called back life even to the
+dull eyes of the man who had lain down to die. And he who was sitting
+with his head bowed wearily upon his knees, looked up with a quick,
+sudden flicker of hope which seemed likely enough to be extinguished as
+soon as it was evident.
+
+For it was probable that the steamer would merely cross the line of
+vision and disappear, without approaching them near enough to be of any
+use. Eagerly they watched. They strained their eyes to see it: they
+spent their strength in rigging up a tattered garment or two to serve as
+a signal of distress. Then, they waited through hours of sickening,
+terrible suspense. And the steamer loomed into sight: nearer it came and
+nearer. They were upon its track: surely succour was nigh at hand.
+
+And succour came. The great vessel slackened its pace: it came to a
+standstill and waited, heaving to and fro upon the waters, as if it were
+a live thing with a beating and compassionate heart. The two men in the
+boat, standing up and faintly endeavouring to raise their voices, saw
+that a great crowd of heads was turned towards them from the sides of
+the vessel, that a boat was lowered and pushed off. The plashing of
+oars, the sound of a cheer, came to the ears of the seafarers. The old
+sailor muttered something that sounded like "Thank God!" and his
+companion burst into tears, but the man at the bottom of the boat lay
+still: they had not been able to make him hear or understand. The
+officer in the boat from the steamer stood up as it approached, and to
+him the old man addressed himself as soon as he could speak.
+
+"We're the second mate and bo'sun of the _Falcon_, sir, and one steerage
+passenger. Destroyed by fire five days ago; and we've been in this here
+cockle-shell ever since." But his voice was so husky and dry that he was
+almost unintelligible. "Mates, for the love of Heaven, give us summat to
+drink," cried the other man, as he was lifted into the boat. And in a
+few minutes they were speeding back to the steamer, and the sailors were
+trying to pour a few drops of brandy and water down the parched throat
+of the one man who seemed to be beyond speech and movement.
+
+The mate was able to give a concise account of the perils of the last
+few days when he arrived on board the _Arizona_; but there was little to
+relate. The story of a fire, of a hurried escape, of the severance of
+the boats, and the agonies of thirst endured by the survivors had
+nothing in it that was particularly new. The captain dismissed the men
+good-humouredly to the care of cook and steward: it was only the
+steerage passenger who required to be put under the doctor's care. It
+seemed that he had been hurt by the falling of a spar, and severely
+scorched in trying to save a child who was in imminent danger; and,
+though he had at first been the most cheery and hopeful of the party,
+his strength had soon failed, and he had lain half or wholly unconscious
+for the greater part of the last two or three days.
+
+There was one passenger on board the _Arizona_ who listened to all these
+details with a keener interest than that shown by any other listener. He
+went down and talked to the men himself as soon as he had the chance and
+asked their names. One of the officers came with him, and paid an almost
+equally keen attention to the replies.
+
+"Mine's Thomas Jackson, sir; and the bo'sun's name it is Fall--Andrew
+Fall. And the passenger, sir? Steerage he was: he was called Mackay."
+
+"No, he warn't," said the boatswain, in a gruff tone. "Saving your
+presence, sir, his name was Smith."
+
+"Mackay," said the mate, with equal positiveness. "And a fine fellow he
+was, too, and one of the best for cheering of us up with his stories and
+songs; and not above a bit of a prayer, too, when the worst came to the
+worst. I heard him myself."
+
+"No sign of your friend here, Mr. Heron, I'm afraid," whispered the
+ship's officer.
+
+"I am afraid not. Was there a passenger on board the _Falcon_ called
+Stretton."
+
+"No, sir. I'm sure o' that."
+
+"Or--Luttrell?"
+
+Percival Heron knew well enough that no such name had been found amongst
+the list of passengers; but he had a vague notion that Brian might have
+resumed his former appellation for some reason or other after he came on
+board. Thomas Jackson considered the subject for a few minutes.
+
+"I ain't rightly sure, sir. Seems to me there was a gent of that name,
+or something like it, on board: but if so, he was amongst those in the
+other boat."
+
+"I should like to see this man Mackay--or Smith," said Percival.
+
+The berth in which the steerage passenger lay was pointed out to him: he
+looked at the face upon the pillow, and shook his head. A rough,
+reddened, blistered face it was, with dirt grained into the pores and
+matting the hair and beard: not in the least like the countenance of the
+man whom he had come to seek.
+
+"We may fall in with the other boat," suggested the officer.
+
+But though the steamer went out of her course in search of it, and a
+careful watch was kept throughout the day and night, the other boat
+could not be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+WRECKED.
+
+
+Percival cultivated acquaintance with the two sailors, and tried to
+obtain from them some description of the passengers on board the
+_Falcon_. But description was not their forte. He gained nothing but a
+clumsy mass of separate facts concerning passengers and crew, which
+assisted him little in forming an opinion as to whether Brian Luttrell
+had, or had not, been on board. He was inclined to think--not.
+
+"But he seemed to have a slippery habit of turning up in odd places
+where you don't in the least expect to find him," soliloquised Percival
+over a cigar. "Why couldn't he have stayed comfortably dead in that
+glacier? Or why did the brain fever not carry him off? He has as many
+lives as a cat. He, drowned or burnt when the _Falcon_ was on fire? Not
+a bit of it. I'll believe in Mr. Brian Luttrell's death when I have seen
+him screwed into his coffin, followed him to the grave, ordered a
+headstone, and written his epitaph. And even then, I should feel that
+there was no knowing whether he had not buried himself under false
+pretences, and was, in reality, enjoying life at the Antipodes. I don't
+know anybody else who can be, 'like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once.'
+I shall nail him to one _alias_ for the future, if I catch him. But
+there seems very little chance of my catching him at all. I've come on a
+wild-goose chase, and can't expect to succeed."
+
+This mood of comparative depression did not last long. Percival felt
+certain that the other boat would be overtaken, or that Brian would be
+found to have sailed in another ship. He could not reconcile himself to
+any idea of returning to Elizabeth with his task half done.
+
+They were nearing the Equator, and the heat of the weather was great. It
+was less fine, however, than was usually the case, and when Percival
+turned into his berth one night, he noticed that the stars were hidden,
+and that rain was beginning to fall. He slept lightly, and woke now and
+then to hear the swish of water outside, and the beat of the engines,
+the dragging of a rope, or the step of a sailor overhead. He was
+dreaming of Elizabeth, and that she was standing with him beside Brian
+Luttrell's grave, when suddenly he awoke with a violent start, and a
+sense that the world was coming to an end. In another moment he was out
+of his berth and on the floor. There had been a scraping sound, then a
+crash--and then the engines had stopped. There was a swaying sensation
+for a second or two, and then another bump. Percival knew instinctively
+what was the matter. The ship had struck.
+
+After that moment's silence there was an outcry, a trampling of feet, a
+few minutes' wild confusion. The voice of the captain rose strong and
+clear above the hubbub as he gave his orders. Percival, already
+half-dressed, made his appearance on deck and soon learned what was the
+matter. The ship had struck twice heavily, and was now filling as
+rapidly as possible. The sailors were making preparations for launching
+the long boat. "Women and children first," said the captain, in his
+stentorian tones.
+
+The noise subsided as he made his calm presence felt. The children
+cried, indeed, and a few of the women shrieked aloud; but the men
+passengers and crew alike, bestirred themselves to collect necessary
+articles, to reassure the timid, and to make ready the boats.
+
+Percival was amongst the busiest and the bravest. His strength made him
+useful, and it was easier for him to use it in practical work than to
+stand and watch the proceedings, or even to console women and children.
+For one moment he had a deep and bitter sense of anger against the
+ordering of his fate. Was he to go down into the deep waters in the
+hey-day of his youth and strength, before he had done his work or tasted
+the reward of work well done? Had Brian Luttrell experienced a like
+fate? And what would become of Elizabeth, sitting lonely in the midst of
+splendours which she had felt were not justly hers, waiting for weeks
+and months and years, perhaps, for the lovers who would never come back
+until the sea gave up its dead?
+
+Percival crushed back the thought. There was no time for anything but
+action. And his senses seemed gifted with preternatural acuteness. He
+saw a child near him put her little hand into that of a
+soldierly-looking man, and heard her whisper--"You won't leave me,
+papa?" And the answer--"Never, my darling. Don't fear." Just behind him
+a man whispered in a woman's ear--"Forgive me, Mary." Percival wondered
+vaguely what that woman had to forgive. He never saw any of the speakers
+again.
+
+For a strange thing happened. Strange, at least, it seemed to him; but
+he understood it afterwards. The ship was really resting upon a ledge of
+the rock on which she had struck: there was little to be seen in the
+darkness except a white line of breakers and a mass of something
+beyond--was it land? The ship gave a sudden outward lurch. There went up
+a cry to Heaven--a last cry from most of the souls on board the
+ill-fated _Arizona_--and then came the end. The vessel fell over the
+edge of the rocky shelf into deep water and went down like a stone.
+
+Percival was a good swimmer, and struck out vigorously, without any
+expectation, however, of being able to maintain himself in the water for
+more than a very short time. Escape from the tangled rigging and
+floating pieces of the wreck was a difficult matter; but the water was
+very calm inside the reef, and not at all cold. He tried to save a woman
+as she was swept past him: for a time he supported a child, but the
+effort to save it was useless. The little creature's head struck against
+some portion of the wreck and it was killed on the spot. Percival let
+the little dead face sink away from him into the water and swam further
+from the point where it went down.
+
+"There must be others saved as well as myself," he thought, when he was
+able to think at all coherently. "At least, let me keep myself up till
+daylight. One may see some way of escape then." It had been three
+o'clock when the ship struck. He had remembered to look at his watch
+when he was first aroused. Would his strength last out till morning?
+
+If his safety had depended entirely on his swimming powers he would have
+been, indeed in evil case. But long before the first faint streak of
+dawn appeared, it seemed to him that he was coming in contact with
+something solid--that there was something hard and firm beneath him
+which he could touch from time to time. The truth came to him at last.
+The tide was going down; and as it went down, it would leave a portion
+of the reef within his reach. There might be some unwashed point to
+which he could climb as soon as daylight came. At any rate, as the
+waters ebbed, he found that he could cling to the rock, and then, that
+he could even stand upon it, although the waves broke over him at every
+moment, and sometimes nearly washed him from his hold.
+
+Never was daylight more anxiously awaited. It came at last; a faint,
+grey light in the east, a climbing flush of rose-colour, a host of
+crimson wavelets on a golden sea. And, as soon as the darkness
+disappeared, Percival found that his conjecture was a correct one. He
+was not alone. There were others beside himself who had won their way to
+even safer positions than his own. Portions of the reef on which the
+ship had struck were now to be plainly seen above the sea-level; it was
+plain that they were rarely touched by the salt water, for there was an
+attempt at vegetation in one or two places. And beyond the reef Percival
+saw land, and land that it would be easy enough to reach.
+
+He turned to look for the remains of the _Arizona_, but there was little
+to be seen. The tops of her masts were visible only in the deep water
+near the reef. Spars, barrels, articles of furniture, could here and
+there be distinguished; nothing of value nor of interest. Percival
+determined to try for the shore. But first he would see whether he could
+help the other men whom he had discerned at a little distance from him
+on a higher portion of the reef.
+
+He crept out to them, feeling his way cautiously, and not sure whether
+he might not be swept off his feet by the force of the waves. To his
+surprise, when he reached the two men, he found that they were two of
+the survivors from the wreck of the _Falcon_. One of them was Thomas
+Jackson, and the other was Mackay, the steerage passenger.
+
+"It's plain you weren't born to be drowned," said Percival, addressing
+Jackson, familiarly.
+
+"No, sir, it don't seem like it," returned the man. "There's one or two
+more that have saved themselves by swimming, too, I fancy. We'd better
+make land while we can, sir."
+
+"Your friend's not able to help himself much, is he?" said Percival,
+with a sharp glance at the bearded face of the steerage passenger.
+
+"Swims like a duck when he's all right, sir; but at present he's got a
+broken leg. Fainted just now; he'll be better presently. I wouldn't have
+liked to leave him behind."
+
+"We'll haul him ashore between us," said Percival.
+
+It was more easily said than done; but the task was accomplished at
+last. Thomas Jackson was of a wiry frame: Percival's trained muscles (he
+had been in the boats at Oxford) stood him in good stead. They reached
+the mainland, carrying the steerage passenger with them; for the poor
+man, not yet half-recovered from the effects of exposure and privation,
+and now suffering from a fracture of the bone just above the ankle, was
+certainly not in a fit state to help himself. On the island they found a
+few cocoa-nut trees: under one of these they laid their burden, and then
+returned to the shore to see whether there was any other castaway whom
+they could assist.
+
+In this search they were successful. One man had already followed their
+example and swam ashore, but he was so much exhausted that they felt
+bound to help him to the friendly shade of the cocoa-nut trees, where
+the steerage passenger, now conscious of his position, and as deadly
+white with the pain of his broken bone as the discolouration of his
+scorched face permitted him to be, moved aside a little in order to make
+room for him. There was another man on the reef; but he had been crushed
+between the upper and lower topsails, and it was almost impossible to
+get him to shore. Percival and Jackson made the effort, but a great wave
+swept the man into a cavern of the reef to which he was clinging before
+they could come to his assistance, and he was not seen again. With a lad
+of sixteen and another sailor they were more fortunate. So that when at
+last they met under the tree to compare notes and count their numbers,
+they found that the party consisted of six persons: Heron, Thomas
+Jackson, and his pet, the steerage passenger; George Pollard, the
+steward; Fenwick, the sailor; and Jim Barry, the cabin boy. They stared
+at each other in rather helpless silence for about a minute, and then
+Heron burst into a strange laugh.
+
+"Well, I've heard of a desert island all my life," he said, "but I never
+was on one before."
+
+"I was," said Fenwick, slowly, "and I didn't expect to get landed upon
+another. But, Lord! if once you go to sea, there's no telling."
+
+"You must feel thankful that you're landed at all," remarked Percival.
+"You might have been food for the fishes by this time."
+
+"I'd most as soon," said Fenwick, in a stolid tone, which had a
+depressing effect on the spirits of some of the party. The lad Barry
+began to whimper a little, and Pollard looked very downcast.
+
+"Cheer up, lads," said Percival, quickly. It was wonderful to see how
+naturally he fell into a position of command amongst them. "That isn't
+the way to get home again. Never fear but a ship will pass the island
+and pick us up. We can't be far out of the ordinary course of the
+steamers. We shall be here a day or two only, or a week, perhaps. What
+do you say, Jackson?"
+
+Jackson drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and seemed to
+meditate a reply; but while he considered the matter, the steerage
+passenger spoke for the first time.
+
+"Mr. Heron is right," he said, causing Percival a moment's surprise at
+the fact of his name being so accurately known by a man to whom he had
+never spoken either on board the _Arizona_ or since they landed. "We all
+ought to feel thankful to Almighty God for bringing us safe to land,
+instead of grumbling that the island has no inhabitants. We have had a
+wonderful escape."
+
+"And so say I, sir," said Jackson, touching an imaginary cap with his
+forefinger, while Barry and Fenwick both looked a little ashamed of
+themselves, and Pollard mechanically followed the example set by the
+sailor. "Them as grumbles had better keep out of my sight unless they
+want to be kicked."
+
+"You're fine fellows, both of you," cried Percival, heartily. And then
+he shook hands with Jackson, and would have followed suit with the
+steerage passenger, had not Mackay drawn back his hand.
+
+"I'm not in condition for shaking hands with anybody," he said, with a
+smile; and Percival remembered his burns and was content.
+
+"I know this place," said Jackson, looking round him presently. "It's a
+dangerous reef, and there's been a many accidents near it. Ships give it
+a wide berth, as a general rule." The men's faces drooped when they
+heard this sentence. "The _Duncan Dunbar_ was wrecked here on the way to
+Auckland. The _Mercurius_, coming back from Sydney by way of 'Frisco,
+she was wrecked, too--in '70. It's the Rocas Reef, mates, which you may
+have heard of or you may not; and, as near as I remember, it's about
+three degrees south of the Line: longitude thirty-three twenty, west."
+
+"I remember now," said Percival, eagerly. His work as a journalist
+helped him to remember the event to which Jackson alluded. "The men of
+the _Mercurius_ found some iron tanks filled with water, left by the
+_Duncan Dunbar_ people. We might go and see if they are still here. But
+first we must attend to this man's leg."
+
+"It is not very bad," said Mackay.
+
+"It's tremendously swollen, at any rate. Are you good at this sort of
+work, Jackson? I can't say I am."
+
+"I know something about it," said Jackson. "Let's have a look, mate."
+
+He knelt down and felt the swollen limb, putting its owner to
+considerable pain, as Percival judged from the way in which he set his
+teeth during the operation. Jackson had, however, a tolerable knowledge
+of a rough sort of surgery, and managed to set the bone and bind up the
+swollen limb in a manner that showed skill and tenderness as well as
+knowledge. And then Percival proposed that they should try to find some
+food, and make the tour of the island before the day grew hotter. The
+leadership of the party had been tacitly accorded to him from the first;
+and, after a consultation with the others, Jackson stepped forward to
+say that they all wished to consider themselves under Mr. Heron's
+orders, "he having more head than the rest of them, and being a
+gentleman born, no doubt." At which Heron laughed good-humouredly and
+accepted the position. "And none of us grudge you being the head," said
+Jackson, sagely, "except, maybe, one, and he don't count." Heron made no
+response; but he wondered for a moment whether the one who grudged him
+his leadership could possibly be Mackay, whose eyes had a quiet
+attentiveness to all his doings, which looked almost like criticism. But
+there was no other fault to be found with Mackay's manner, while against
+Fenwick's dogged air Percival felt some irritation.
+
+The want of food was decidedly the first difficulty. Sea-birds' eggs and
+young birds, shell-fish and turtle, were all easily to be obtained; but
+how were they to be cooked? Percival was not without hopes that some
+tinned provisions might be cast ashore from the wreck; but at present
+there was nothing of the kind to be seen. A few cocoa-nuts were
+procurable: and these provided them with meat and drink for the time
+being. Then came the question of fire. The only possible method of
+obtaining it was the Indian one of rubbing two sticks diligently
+together for the space of some two hours; and Thomas Jackson sat down
+with stoical patience worthy of an Indian himself to fulfil this
+operation.
+
+Percival, who felt that he could not bear to be doing nothing, started
+off for a walk round the island, and the rest of the party dozed in the
+shade until the return of their leader.
+
+When Heron came back he made his report as cheerful as he could, but he
+could not make it a particularly brilliant one, although he did his
+best. He was one of those men who grumble at trifles, but are unusually
+bright and cheerful in the presence of a great emergency. The sneer had
+left his face, the cynical accent had disappeared from his voice; he
+employed all his social gifts, which were naturally great, for the
+entertainment of his comrades. As they ate boiled eggs and fried fish
+and other morsels which seemed especially dainty when cooked over the
+fire that Jackson's patient industry had lighted at last, the spirits of
+the whole party seemed to rise; and Percival's determination to look
+upon the bright side of things, produced a most enlivening effect. Some
+of them remembered afterwards, with a sort of puzzled wonder, that they
+had more than once laughed heartily during their first meal upon the
+Rocas Reef.
+
+Yet none of them were insensible to the danger through which they had
+passed, nor the terrible position in which they stood. Uppermost in the
+minds of each, although none of them liked to put it into words, was the
+question--How long shall we stay here? Is it likely that any ship will
+observe our signal of distress and come to our aid? They looked each
+other furtively in the eyes, and read no comfort in each other's face.
+
+They had landed upon one of two islands, about fifteen acres each in
+size, which were separated at high water, but communicated with each
+other when the tide had ebbed. Both islands lay low, and had patches of
+white sand in the centre; but there was very little vegetation. Even
+grass seemed as if it would not grow; and the cocoa-nut trees were few
+and far between.
+
+The signs of previous wrecks struck the men's hearts with a chill. There
+was a log hut, to which Mackay was moved when evening came on; there
+were the iron tanks of which Percival had made mention, filled with
+rain-water; there were some rotten boards, and a small hammer and a
+broken knife; but there was no fresh-water spring, and there were no
+provision chests, such as Heron had vainly hoped to find.
+
+The setting up of a distress-signal on the highest point of the island
+was the next matter to be attended to; and for this purpose nothing
+could be found more suitable than a very large yellow silk-handkerchief
+which Percival had found in his pocket. It did not make a very large
+flag, although it was enormous as a handkerchief; but no other article
+of clothing could well be spared. Indeed, the spareness of their
+coverings was a matter of some regret and anxiety on Percival's part. He
+could not conceive what they were to do if they were on the island for
+more than a few days; the rough work which would be probably necessary
+being somewhat destructive of woollen and linen garments. Jackson, with
+whom he ventured a joke on the subject, did not receive it in very good
+part. "You needn't talk as if we was to stay here for ever, Mr. Heron,
+sir," he murmured. "But there's always cocoa-nut fibre, if the worst
+comes to the worst."
+
+"Ah, yes, cocoa-nut fibre," said Percival, turning his eyes to one of
+the slim, straight stems of the palm trees. "I forgot that. I seem to
+have walked straight into one of Jules Verne's books. Gad! I wish I
+could walk out of it again. What a thrilling narrative I'll make of this
+for the _Mail_ when I get home. If ever I do get home. Bah, it's no use
+to talk of that."
+
+These reflections were made under his breath, while Jackson walked on to
+examine a nest of sea-birds' eggs; for Percival was wisely resolved
+against showing a single sign of undue anxiety or depression of spirits,
+lest it should re-act on the minds of those who had declared themselves
+his followers. For the rest of the day the party worked hard at various
+contrivances for their own welfare and comfort.
+
+Firewood was collected; birds and fish caught for the evening meal. To
+each member of the party a task was assigned: even Mackay could make
+himself useful by watching the precious flame which must never be
+suffered to go out. And thus the day wore on, and night came with its
+purple stillness and its tropical wealth of stars.
+
+The men sought shelter in the hut: Percival only, by his own choice,
+remained outside until he thought that they were sleeping. He wanted to
+be alone. He had banished reflection pretty successfully during the day;
+but at night he knew that it would get the better of him. And he felt
+that he must meet and master the thronging doubts and fears and regrets
+that assailed him. Whatever happened he would not be sorry that he had
+come. If he never saw Elizabeth's face again, he was sure that her
+memories of him would be full of tenderness. What more did he want? And
+yet he wanted more.
+
+He found out what his heart desired before he laid himself down to sleep
+amongst the men. He would have given a year of his life to know whether
+Brian Luttrell was alive or dead. And he could not honestly say that he
+wished Brian Luttrell to be alive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+ON THE ROCAS REEF.
+
+
+The morning light showed several articles on the shore which had been
+washed up from the wreck. Some tins of biscuits were likely to be very
+useful, and a box of carpenter's tools, most of them sadly rusted, was
+welcomed eagerly; but nothing else was found, and the day might have
+begun with murmurs of discontent but for a discovery made by Mackay,
+which restored satisfaction to the men's faces.
+
+Close by his head in the log hut where he had spent the night, he found
+a sort of cupboard--something like a rabbit-hutch. And this cupboard
+contained--oh, joyful discovery!--not gold or gems, nor any such useless
+glittering lumber, but something far more precious to these weary
+mariners--two bottles of brandy and a chest of tea. Perhaps a former
+sojourner on the island had placed them in that hiding-place, thinking
+compassionately of the voyagers who might in some future day find
+themselves in bitter need upon the Rocas Reef. "Whoever it was as left
+'em here," said Pollard, "got off safe again, you may depend on it; and
+so shall we." Percival said nothing: he had been thinking that perhaps
+the former owner of this buried treasure had died upon the island. He
+hoped that they would not find his grave.
+
+He measured out some tea for the morning's meal, but decided that
+neither tea nor spirits should be used, except on special occasions or
+in cases of illness. The men accepted his decision as a reasonable one;
+they were all well-disposed and tractable on the whole. Percival was
+amazed to find them so easy to manage. But they were more depressed that
+morning at the thought of their lost comrades, their wrecked ship, and
+the prospect of passing an indefinite time upon the coral-reef, than
+they had been on the previous day. It was a relief when they were busy
+at their respective tasks; and Percival found an odd kind of pleasure in
+all sorts of hard and unusual work; in breaking up rotten planks, for
+instance; in extracting old nails painfully and laboriously from them
+for future use; and in tramping to and fro between the sea-shore and the
+log hut, carrying the driftwood deposited on the sand to a more
+convenient resting-place. They had planned to build another hut, as the
+existing structure was both small and frail; and Percival laboured at
+his work like a giant. In the hot time of the day, however, he was glad
+to do as the others did; to throw down his tools, such as they were, and
+creep into the shadow of the log hut. The heat was very great; and the
+men were beginning to suffer from the bites of venomous ants which
+infested the island. In short, as Percival said to himself, the Rocas
+Reef was about as little like Robinson Crusoe's island as it could
+possibly be. Life would be greatly ameliorated if goats and parrots
+could be found amongst the rocks; shell-fish and sea-fowl were a poor
+exchange for them; and an island that was "desert" in reality as well as
+in name, was a decidedly prosaic place on which to spend a few days, or
+weeks, or months. Of course he made none of these remarks in public; he
+contented himself with humming in an undertone the words of Alexander
+Selkirk, as interpreted by Cowper:--
+
+    "I am monarch of all I survey,
+    My right there is none to dispute--"
+
+a quotation which brought a meaning smile to Mackay's face, whereupon
+Percival laughed and checked himself.
+
+"How are you to-day?" he said, addressing the steerage passenger with
+some show of good-humoured interest. Mackay was lying on the sand,
+propped up against the wall of the hut, and Percival was breaking his
+nails over an obstinate screw which was deeply embedded in a thick piece
+of wood.
+
+"Better, thanks." The voice was curiously hoarse and gruff.
+
+"Jackson isn't a bad surgeon, I fancy."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Lucky for you that he was saved."
+
+"I owe my life twice to him and once to you."
+
+"I hope you think it's something to be grateful for," said Percival,
+carelessly. "You've had some escapes to tell your friends about when you
+get home."
+
+Mackay turned aside his head. "I have no friends to tell," he said,
+shortly.
+
+"Ah! more's the pity. Well, no doubt you will make some in
+Pernambuco--when you get there."
+
+"Do you think we ever shall get there?"
+
+Percival shot a rather displeased glance at him. "Don't go talking like
+that before the men," he said.
+
+"I am not talking before the men," rejoined the steerage passenger, with
+a smile: "I am talking to you, Mr. Heron. And I repeat my question--Do
+you think we shall ever get to Pernambuco?"
+
+"Yes," said Percival, stoutly. "A ship will see our signal and call for
+us."
+
+"It's a very small flag," said Mackay, in a significant tone.
+
+"Good Heavens!" burst out Percival, with the first departure from his
+good-humoured tone that Mackay had heard from him: "why do you take the
+trouble to put that side of the question to me? Don't you think I see it
+for myself? There is a chance, if it is only a small one; and I'm not
+going to give up hope--yet."
+
+Then he walked away, as if he refused to discuss the subject any longer.
+Mackay looked at the sea and sighed; he was sorry that he had provoked
+Mr. Heron's wrath by his question. But he found afterwards that it
+contributed to form a kind of silent understanding between him and
+Percival. It was a sort of relief to both of them, occasionally to
+exchange short, sharp sentences of doubt or discouragement, which
+neither of them breathed in the ear of the others. Percival divined
+quickly enough, that the steerage passenger was not a man of Thomas
+Jackson's class. As the hoarseness left his voice, and the disfiguring
+redness disappeared from his face, Percival distinguished signs of
+refinement and culture which he wondered at himself for not perceiving
+earlier. But there was nothing remarkable in his having made a mistake
+about Mackay's station in life. The man had come on board the _Arizona_
+in a state of wretched suffering: his face had been scorched, his hair
+and beard singed, his clothes, as well as his person, blackened by dust
+and smoke. Then his clothes were those of a working-man, and his speech
+had been rendered harsh to the ear from the hoarseness of his voice. But
+he gradually regained his strength as he lay in the fresh air and the
+sunshine, and returning health gave back to him the quiet energy and
+cheerfulness to which Jackson had borne testimony. He was a great
+favourite with the men, who, in their rough way, made a sort of pet of
+him, and brought him offerings of the daintiest food that they could
+find. And his hands were not idle. He wove baskets and plaited hats of
+cocoa-nut fibre with his long white fingers, which were very unlike
+those of the working-man that he professed to be. Percival Heron was
+often struck by the appearance of that hand. It was one of unusual
+beauty--the sort of hand that Titian or Vandyke loved to draw: long,
+finely-shaped, full of quiet power, and fuller, perhaps, of a subtle
+sort of refinement, which seems to express itself in the form of
+tapering fingers with filbert nails and a well-turned wrist. It was not
+the hand of a working-man, not even of a skilled artizan, whose hand is
+often delicately sensitive: it was a gentleman's hand, and as such it
+piqued Percival's curiosity. But Mackay was of a reserved disposition,
+and did not offer any information about himself.
+
+One day when rain was falling in sheets and torrents, as it did
+sometimes upon the Rocas Reef, Percival turned into the log hut for
+shelter. Mackay was there, too; his leg had been so painful that he had
+not left the rude bed, which his comrades had made for him, even to be
+carried out into the fresh air and sunshine, for two or three days.
+Percival noticed the look of pain in the languid eyes, and had, for a
+moment, a fancy that he had seen this man before. But the burns on his
+face, the handkerchief tied round his head to conceal a wound on the
+temple, and the tangled brown beard and moustache, made it difficult to
+seize hold of a possible likeness.
+
+Percival threw himself on the ground with a half-sigh, and crossed his
+arms behind his head.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Mackay.
+
+Percival noticed that he never addressed him as "Sir" or "Mr. Heron,"
+unless the other men were present.
+
+"Jackson's ill," said Percival, curtly.
+
+Mackay started and turned on his elbow.
+
+"Ill?"
+
+"Fever, I'm afraid. Not bad; just a touch of it. He's in the other hut."
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said Mackay, lying down again.
+
+"So am I. He is the steadiest man among them. How the rain pours!
+Pollard is sitting with him."
+
+There was a little silence, after which Percival spoke again.
+
+"Are you keeping count of the days? How long is it since we landed?"
+
+"Sixteen days."
+
+"Is that all? I thought it had been longer."
+
+"You were anxious to get to your journey's end, I suppose," said the
+steerage passenger, after a little hesitation.
+
+"Aren't we all anxious? Do we want to stay here for ever?" And then
+there was another pause, which ended by Percival's saying, in a tone of
+subdued irritation: "There are few of our party that have the same
+reasons that I have for wishing myself on the way back to England."
+
+"You are not going to stay in South America, then?"
+
+"Not I. There is someone I want to find; that's all."
+
+"A man?"
+
+"Yes, a man. I thought that he had sailed in the _Falcon_; but I suppose
+I was mistaken."
+
+"And if you don't find him?"
+
+"I must hunt the world over until I do. I won't go back to England
+without him, if he's alive."
+
+"Friend or enemy?" said Mackay, fixing his eyes on Percival's face with
+a look of interest. At any other time Percival might have resented the
+question: here, in the log hut, with a tempest roaring and the rain
+streaming outside, and the great stormy sea as a barrier between the
+dwellers on the island and the rest of the civilised world, such
+questions and answers seemed natural enough.
+
+"Enemy," said Percival, sharply. It was evident that some hidden sense
+of wrong had sprung suddenly to the light, and perhaps amazed him by its
+strength, for he began immediately to explain away his answer. "Hum! not
+that exactly. But not a friend."
+
+"And you want to do him an injury!" said Mackay, with grave
+consideration.
+
+"No, I don't," said Percival, angrily, as if replying to a suggestion
+that had been made a thousand times before, and flinging out his arm
+with a reckless, agitated gesture. "I want to do him a service--confound
+him!"
+
+There was a silence. Percival lay with his outstretched hand clenched
+and his eyes fixed gloomily on the opposite wall: Mackay turned away his
+head. Presently, however, he spoke in a low but distinct tone.
+
+"What is the service you propose doing me, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"Doing you? Good Heavens! You! What do you mean?"
+
+"I suppose that my face is a good deal disfigured at present," said the
+steerage passenger, passing his hand lightly over his thick, brown
+beard; "but when it is better, you will probably recognise me easily
+enough. But, perhaps, I am mistaken. I thought for a moment that you
+were in search of a man called Stretton, who was formerly a tutor to
+your step-brothers."
+
+Percival was standing erect by this time in the middle of the floor. His
+hands were thrust into his pockets: his deep chest heaved: the bronzed
+pallor of his face had turned to a dusky red. He did not answer the
+words spoken to him; but after a few seconds of silence, in which the
+eyes of the two men met and told each other a good deal, he strode to
+the doorway, pushed aside the plank which served for a door, and went
+out into the storm. He did not feel the rain beating upon his head: he
+did not hear the thunder, nor see the forked lightning that played
+without intermission in the darkened sky; he was conscious only of the
+intolerable fact that he was shut up in a narrow corner of the earth, in
+daily, almost hourly, companionship with the one man for whom he felt
+something not unlike fierce hatred. And in spite of his resolution to
+act generously for Elizabeth's sake, the hatred flamed up again when he
+found himself so suddenly thrust, as it were, into Brian Luttrell's
+presence.
+
+When he had walked for some time and got thoroughly wet through, it
+occurred to him that he was acting more like a child than a grown man;
+and he turned his face as impetuously towards the huts as he had lately
+turned his back upon them. He found plenty to do when the rain ceased.
+The fire had for the first time gone out, and the patience of Jackson
+could not now be taxed, because he was lying on his back in the stupor
+of fever. Percival set one of the men to work with two sticks; but the
+wood was nearly all damp, and it was a weary business, even when two dry
+morsels were found, to get them to light. However, it was better than
+having nothing to do. Want of employment was one of their chief trials.
+The men could not always be catching fish and snaring birds. They were
+thinking of building a small boat; but Jackson's illness deprived them
+of the help of one who had more practical knowledge of such matters than
+any of the others, and threw a damp over their spirits as well.
+
+Jackson's illness seemed to give Percival a pretext for absenting
+himself from the hut in which the so-called Mackay lay. He had, just at
+first, an invincible repugnance to meeting him again; he could not make
+up his mind how Brian Luttrell would expect to be treated, and he was
+almost morbidly sensitive about the mistake that he had made respecting
+"the steerage passenger." At night he stayed with Jackson, and sent the
+other men to sleep in Mackay's hut. But in the morning an absolute
+necessity arose for him to speak to his enemy.
+
+Jackson was sensible, though extremely weak, when the daylight came: and
+his first remark was an anxious one concerning the state of his
+comrade's broken leg. "Will you look after it a bit, sir?" he said,
+wistfully, to Heron.
+
+"I'll do my best. Don't bother yourself," said Percival, cheerfully. And
+accordingly he presented himself at an early hour in the other
+sleeping-place, and addressed Brian in a very matter of fact tone.
+
+"Your leg must be seen to this morning. I shall make a poor substitute
+for Jackson, I'm afraid; but I think I shall do it better than Pollard
+or Fenwick."
+
+"I've no doubt of that," said the man with the brown beard and bright,
+quick eyes. "Thank you."
+
+And that was all that passed between them.
+
+It was wonderful to see the determined, unsparing way in which Percival
+worked that day. His energy never flagged. He was a little less
+good-tempered than usual; the upright black line in his forehead was
+very marked, and his utterances were not always amiable. But he
+succeeded in his object; he made himself so thoroughly tired that he
+slept as soon as his head touched his hard pillow, and did not wake
+until the sun was high in the heaven. The men showed a good deal of
+consideration for him. Fenwick watched by the sick man, and Pollard and
+Barry bestirred themselves to get ready the morning meal, and to attend
+to the wants of their two helpless companions.
+
+It was not until evening that Brian found an opportunity to say to
+Percival:--
+
+"What did you want to find me for?"
+
+"Can't you let the matter rest until we are off this ---- island?" said
+Percival, losing control of that hidden fierceness for a moment.
+
+And Brian answered rather coldly:--"As you please."
+
+Percival waited awhile, and then said, more deliberately:--
+
+"I'll tell you before long. There is no hurry, you see"--with a sort of
+grim humour--"there is no post to catch, no homeward-bound mail steamer
+in the harbour. We cannot give each other the slip now."
+
+"Do you mean that I gave you the slip?" said Brian, to whom Percival's
+tone was charged with offence.
+
+"I mean that Brian Luttrell would not have been allowed to leave England
+quite so easily as Mr. Stretton was. But I won't discuss it just now.
+You'll excuse my observing that I think I would drop the 'Mackay' if I
+were you. It will hurt nobody here if you are called Luttrell; and--I
+hate disguises."
+
+"The name Luttrell is as much a disguise as any other," said Brian,
+shortly. "But you may use it if you choose."
+
+He was hardly prepared, however, for the round eyes with which the lad
+Barry regarded him when he next entered the log hut, nor for the awkward
+way in which he gave a bashful smile and pulled the front lock of his
+hair when Brian spoke to him.
+
+"What are you doing that for?" he said, quickly.
+
+"Well, sir, it's Mr. Heron's orders," said Barry.
+
+"What orders?"
+
+"That we're to remember you're a gentleman, sir. Gone steerage in a bit
+of a freak; but now you've told him you'd prefer to be called by your
+proper name. Mr. Luttrell, that is."
+
+"I'm no more a gentleman than you are," said Brian, abruptly. "Call me
+Mackay at once as you used to do."
+
+Barry shook his head with a knowing look. "Daren't sir. Mr. Heron is a
+gentleman that will have his own way. And he said you had a big estate
+in Scotland, sir; and lots of money."
+
+"What other tales did he tell you?" said Brian, throwing back his head
+restlessly.
+
+"Well, I don't know, sir. Only he told us that we'd better nurse you up
+as well as we could before we left the island, and that there was one at
+home as would give money to see you alive and well. A lady, I think he
+meant."
+
+"What insane folly!" muttered Brian to himself. "Look here, Barry," he
+added aloud, "Mr. Heron was making jokes at your expense and mine. He
+meant nothing of the kind; I haven't a penny in the world, and I'm on
+the way to the Brazils to earn my living as a working-man. Now do you
+understand?"
+
+Barry retired, silenced but unconvinced. And the next time that Brian
+saw Percival alone, he said to him drily:--
+
+"I would rather make my own romances about my future life, if it's all
+the same to you."
+
+"Eh? What? What do you mean?"
+
+"Don't tell these poor fellows that I have property in Scotland, please.
+It is not the case."
+
+"Oh, that's what you're making a fuss about. But I can't help it," said
+Percival, shrugging his shoulders. "If you are Brian Luttrell, as Vasari
+swears you are--swearing it to his own detriment, too, which inclines me
+to believe that it is true--the Strathleckie estate is yours."
+
+"You can't prove that I am Brian Luttrell."
+
+"But I might prove--when we get back to Scotland--that you bore the name
+of Brian Luttrell for three or four-and-twenty years of your life."
+
+"I am not going back to Scotland," said the young man, looking steadily
+and attentively at Percival's troubled countenance.
+
+"Yes, you are. I promised that you should come back, and you must not
+make me break my word."
+
+"Whom did you promise?"
+
+"I promised Elizabeth."
+
+And then the two men felt that the conversation had better cease.
+Percival walked rapidly away, while Brian, who could not walk anywhere,
+lay flat on his back and listened, with dreamy eyes, to the long
+monotonous rise and fall of the waves upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
+
+
+"Pollard's down with this fever," was the announcement which Percival
+made to Brian a few days later.
+
+"Badly?"
+
+"A smart touch. And Jackson doesn't mend as he ought to do. I can't
+understand why either of them should have it at all. The island may be
+barren, but it ought to be healthy."
+
+"I wish I could do anything beside lying here like a log."
+
+"Well, you can't," said Percival, by no means unkindly. "I never heard
+that it was any good to stand on a broken leg. I'll manage."
+
+Such interchange of semi-confidential sentences was now rare between
+them. Percival was, for the most part, very silent when circumstances
+threw him into personal contact with Brian; and there was something
+repellant about this silence--something which prevented Brian from
+trying to break it. Brian was feeling bitterly that he had done Percival
+some wrong: he knew that he might justly be blamed for returning to
+Scotland after his supposed death. He need not have practised any
+deception at all, but, having practised it, he ought to have maintained
+it. He had no right to let the estates pass to Elizabeth unless he meant
+her to keep them. Such, he imagined, might well be Percival's attitude
+of mind towards him.
+
+And then there was the question of his love for Elizabeth, of which both
+Elizabeth herself and Dino Vasari had made Heron aware. But in this
+there was nothing to be ashamed of. When he fell in love with Elizabeth,
+he thought her comparatively poor and friendless, and he did not know of
+her engagement to Percival. He never whispered to himself that he had
+won her heart: that fact, which Elizabeth fancied that she had made
+shamefully manifest, had not been grasped by Brian's consciousness at
+all. He would have thought himself a coxcomb to imagine that she cared
+for him more than as a friend. If he had ever dreamt of such a thing, he
+assured himself that he had made a foolish mistake.
+
+He thought that he understood what Percival wanted to say to him. Of
+course, since Dino had disclosed the truth, Elizabeth Murray desired to
+give up the property, and her lover had volunteered to come in search of
+the missing man. It was a generous act, and one that Brian thoroughly
+admired: it was worthy, he thought, of Elizabeth's lover. For he knew
+that he had always been especially obnoxious to Percival Heron in his
+capacity as tutor; and now, if he were to assume the character of a
+claimant to Elizabeth's estates, he would certainly not find the road to
+Percival's liking. For his own part, Brian respected and liked Percival
+Heron much more than he had found it possible to do during those flying
+visits to Italy, when he had systematically made himself disagreeable to
+the unknown Mr. Stretton. He admired the way in which Percival assumed
+the leadership of the party, and bore the burden of all their
+difficulties on his own broad shoulders: he admired his cheerfulness and
+untiring energy. He was sure that if Heron could succeed in carrying him
+off to England, and forcing him to make Elizabeth a poor woman instead
+of a rich one, he would be only too pleased to do so. But this was a
+thing which Brian did not mean to allow.
+
+Jackson's illness was a protracted one, and left him in a weak state,
+from which he had not recovered when Pollard died. Then the boy Barry
+fell ill--out of sheer fright, Percival declared; but his attack was a
+very slight one, prolonged from want of energy rather than real
+indisposition. Heron was the only nurse, for Fenwick's strength had to
+be utilised in procuring food for the party; and, as he was often up all
+night and busy all day long, it was no surprise to Brian when at last he
+staggered, rather than walked into the hut, and threw himself down on
+the ground, declaring himself so tired that he could not keep awake. And
+he had scarcely said the words when slumber overpowered him.
+
+Brian, who was beginning to move about a very little, crawled to the
+door and managed to attract Fenwick's attention. The man--a rough,
+black-bearded sailor--came up to him with a less surly look than usual.
+
+"How's Barry?" said Brian.
+
+"Better. He's all right. They've both got round the corner now, though I
+think the master thought yesterday that Barry would follow Pollard. It
+was faint-heartedness as killed Pollard, and it's faint-heartedness
+that'll kill Barry, if he don't look out."
+
+"See here," said Brian, indicating the sleeper with his finger. "You
+don't think Mr. Heron has got the fever, do you?"
+
+Fenwick took a step forward and looked stolidly at Percival's face,
+which was very pale.
+
+"Not he. Dead-beat, sir; that's all. He's done his work like a man, and
+earned a sleep. He'll be right when he wakes."
+
+Armed with this assurance, Brian resumed his occupation of weaving
+cocoa-nut fibre; but he grew uneasy, when, at the end of a couple of
+hours, Percival's face began to flush and his limbs to toss restlessly
+upon the ground. He muttered incoherent words from time to time, and at
+last awoke and asked for water. Brian's walking was a matter of
+difficulty; he took some minutes in crossing the room to bring a
+cocoa-nut, which had been made into a cup, to Percival's side; and by
+the time he had done it, Heron was wide awake.
+
+"What on earth are you doing, bringing me water in this way? You ought
+to be lying down, and I ought to go to Barry. If I were not so sleepy!"
+
+"Go to sleep," said Brian. "Barry's all right. I asked Fenwick just
+now."
+
+"I suppose I've gone and caught it," said Percival, in a decidedly
+annoyed tone of voice. "A nice state of things if I were to be laid up!
+I won't be laid up either. It's to a great extent a matter of will; look
+at Barry--and Pollard." His voice sank a little at the latter name.
+
+"You're only tired: you will be all right presently."
+
+"You don't think I'm going to have the fever, then?"
+
+"No," said Brian, wondering a little at his anxiety.
+
+There was a long pause: then Heron spoke again.
+
+"Luttrell." It was the first time that he had addressed Brian by his
+name. "If I have the fever and go off my head as the others have all
+done, will you remember--it's just a fancy of mine--that I--I don't
+exactly want you to hear what I say! Leave me in this hut, or move me
+into the other one, will you?"
+
+"I'll do as you wish," said Brian, seriously, "but I needn't tell you
+that I should attach no importance to what you said. And I should be
+pleased to do anything that I was able to do for you, if you were ill."
+
+"Well," said Percival, "I may not be ill after all. But I thought I
+would mention it. And, Luttrell, supposing I were to follow Pollard's
+example--"
+
+"What is the good of talking in that way when you are not even ill?"
+
+"Never mind that. If you get off this island and I don't, I want you to
+promise me to go and see Elizabeth." Then, as Brian hesitated, "You must
+go. You must see her and talk to her; do you hear? Good Heavens! How can
+you hesitate? Do you mean to let her think for ever that I have betrayed
+her trust?"
+
+Decidedly the fever was already working in his veins. The flushed face,
+the unnaturally brilliant eyes, the excitement of his manner, all
+testified to its presence. Brian felt compelled to answer quietly,
+
+"I promise."
+
+"All right," said Percival, lying down again and closing his eyes. "And
+now you can tell Fenwick that he's got another patient. It's the fever;
+I know the signs."
+
+And he was right. But the fever took a different course with him from
+that which it had taken with the others: he was never delirious at all,
+but lay in a death-like stupor from which it seemed that he might not
+awake. Once--some days after the beginning of his illness--he came to
+himself for a few minutes with unexpected suddenness. It was midnight,
+and there was no light in the hut beyond that which came from the
+brilliant radiance of the moon as it shone in at the open door. Percival
+opened his eyes and made a sound, to which Brian answered immediately by
+giving him something to drink.
+
+"You've broken your promise," said Percival, in a whisper, keeping his
+eyes fixed suspiciously on Brian's face.
+
+"No. You have never been delirious, so I never needed to leave you."
+
+"A quibble," murmured Heron, with the faintest possible smile.
+"However--I'm not sorry to have you here. You'll stay now, even if I
+talk nonsense?"
+
+"Of course I will." Brian was glad of the request.
+
+In another moment the patient had relapsed into insensibility; but,
+curiously enough, after this, conversation, Percival's mind began to
+wander, and he "talked nonsense" as persistently as the others had done.
+Brian could not see why he had at first told him to keep away. He was
+quite prepared for some revelation of strong feeling against himself,
+but none ever came. Elizabeth's name occurred very frequently; but for
+the most, part, it was connected with reminiscences of the past of which
+Brian knew nothing. Early meetings, walks about London, boy and girl
+quarrels were talked of, but about recent events he was silent.
+
+Brian wondered whether he himself and Fenwick would also succumb to the
+malarious influences of the place; but these two escaped. Fenwick was
+never ill; and Brian grew stronger every day. When Percival opened his
+eyes once more upon him, after three weeks of illness, he said,
+abruptly:--
+
+"Ah, if you had looked like that when you came on board the _Arizona_, I
+should never have been deceived."
+
+Brian smiled, and made no answer. Percival watched him hobbling about
+the room for some minutes, and then said:--
+
+"How long have we been on the island?"
+
+"Forty-seven days."
+
+"And not a sail in sight the whole time?"
+
+"Two, but they did not come near enough to see our signals--or passed
+them by."
+
+"My God!" said Percival, faintly. "Will it never end?" And then he
+turned away his face.
+
+After a little silence he asked, uneasily:--
+
+"Did I say much when I was ill?"
+
+"Nothing of any consequence."
+
+"But about you," said Percival, turning his hollow eyes on Brian with
+painful earnestness, "did I talk about you? Did I say----"
+
+"You never mentioned my name so far as I know. So make your mind easy on
+that score. Now, don't talk any more: you are not fit for it. You must
+eat, and drink, and sleep, so as to be ready when that dilatory ship
+comes to take us off."
+
+Percival did his duty in these respects. He was a more docile patient
+than Brian had expected to find him. But he did not seem to recover his
+buoyant spirits with his strength. He had long fits of melancholy
+brooding, in which the habitual line between his brows became more
+marked than ever. But it was not until two or three weeks more of their
+strangely monotonous existence had passed by, that Brian Luttrell got
+any clue to the kind of burden that was weighing upon Heron's mind.
+
+The day had been fiercely hot, but the night was cool, and Brian had
+half-closed the door through which the sea-breeze was blowing, and the
+light of the stars shone down. He and Percival continued to share this
+hut (the other being tenanted by the three seamen), and Brian was
+sitting on the ground, stirring up a compound of cocoa-nut milk, eggs
+and brandy, with which he meant to provide Percival for supper. Percival
+lay, as usual, on his couch, watching his movements by the starlight.
+When the draught had been swallowed, Heron said:--
+
+"Don't go to sleep yet. I wish you would sit down here. I want to say
+something."
+
+Brian complied, and Percival went on in his usual abrupt fashion.
+
+"You know I rather thought I should not get better."
+
+"I know."
+
+"It might have been more convenient if I had not. Did you never feel
+so?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"If I had been buried on the Rocas Reef," said Percival, with biting
+emphasis, "you would have kept your promise, gone back to England,
+and--married Elizabeth."
+
+"I never considered that possibility," answered Brian, with perfect
+quietness and some coldness.
+
+"Then you're a better fellow than I am. Look here," said Percival, with
+vehemence, "in your place I could not have nursed a man through an
+illness as you have done. The temptation would have been too strong: I
+should have killed him."
+
+"I am sure you would have done nothing of the kind, Heron. You are
+incapable of treachery."
+
+"You won't say so when you know all that I am going to tell you. Prepare
+your mind for deeds of villainy," said Percival, rallying his forces and
+trying to laugh; "for I am going to shock your virtuous ear. It's been
+on my mind ever since I was taken ill; and I was so afraid that I should
+let it out when I was light-headed, that, as you know, I asked you not
+to stay with me."
+
+"Don't tell me now: I'll take it on trust. Any time will do," said
+Brian, shrinking a little from the allusion to his own story that he
+knew would follow.
+
+"No time like the present," responded Heron, obstinately. "I've been a
+pig-headed brute; that's the chief thing. Now, don't interrupt,
+Luttrell. Miss Murray, you know, was engaged to me when you first saw
+her."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't know it!" said Brian, with vehemence almost equal to
+Percival's own.
+
+"Of course you didn't. I understand all that. It was the most natural
+thing in the world for you to admire her."
+
+"Admire her!" repeated Brian, in an enigmatic tone.
+
+"Let the word stand for something stronger if you don't like it. Perhaps
+you do not know that your friend, Dino Vasari, the man who claimed to be
+Brian Luttrell, betrayed your secrets to me. It was he who told me your
+name, and your love for Miss Murray. She had mentioned that to me, too;
+or rather I made her tell me."
+
+"Dino confessed that he had been to you," said Brian, who was sitting
+with his hand arched over his eyes. "He had some wild idea of making a
+sort of compromise about the property, to which I was to be a party."
+
+"Did he tell you the terms of the compromise?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I won't--just now. I'll tell you what I did, Luttrell, and you may
+call me a cad for it, if you like: I refused to do anything towards
+bringing about this compromise, and, although I knew when you were to
+sail, I did not try to detain you! You should have heard the blowing-up
+I had afterwards from old Colquhoun for not dropping a word to him!"
+
+"I am very glad you did not. He could not have hindered me."
+
+"Yes, he could. Or I could. Some of us would have hindered you, you may
+depend on it. And, if I had said that word, don't you see, you would
+never have set foot in the _Falcon_ nor I in the _Arizona_, and we
+should both have been safe at home, instead of disporting ourselves,
+like Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, on a desert island."
+
+"It's too late to think of that now," said Brian, rather sadly.
+
+"Too late! that's the worst of it. You've the right to reproach me. Of
+course, I know I was to blame."
+
+"No, I don't see that. I don't reproach you in the least. You knew so
+little, that it must have seemed unnecessary to make a fuss about what
+you had heard."
+
+"I heard quite enough," said Percival, with a short laugh. "I knew what
+I ought to do--and I didn't do it. That's the long and the short of it.
+If I had spoken, you would not be here. That makes the sting of it to me
+now."
+
+"Don't think of that. I don't mind. You made up for all by coming after
+me."
+
+"I think," said Percival, emphatically, "that if a word could have
+killed you when I first knew who you were, you wouldn't have had much
+chance of life, Luttrell. I was worse than that afterwards. If ever I
+had the temptation to take a man's life----"
+
+"Keep all that to yourself," said Brian, in a quick, resolute tone.
+"There is no use in telling it to me. You conquered the temptation, if
+there was one; that I know; and if there was anything else, forget it,
+as I shall forget what you have told me. I have something to ask your
+pardon for, besides."
+
+Percival's chest heaved; the emotion of the moment found vent in one
+audible sob. He stretched out his hand, which Brian clasped in silence.
+For a few minutes neither of them spoke.
+
+"It was chiefly to prove to myself that I was not such a black sheep as
+some persons declared me to be, that I made up my mind to follow you and
+bring you back," said Percival, with his old liveliness of tone. "You
+see I had been more selfish than anybody knew. Shall I tell you how?"
+
+"If you like."
+
+"You say you don't know what Dino Vasari suggested. That subtle young
+man made a very bold proposition. He said he would give up his claim to
+the property if I would relinquish my claim to Miss Murray's hand. The
+property and the hand thus set at liberty were both to be bestowed upon
+you, Mr. Brian Luttrell. Dino Vasari was then to retire to his
+monastery, and I to mine--that is, to my bachelor's diggings and my
+club--after annihilating time and space 'to make two lovers happy.'"
+
+"Don't jest on that subject," said Brian in a low, pained tone. "What a
+wild idea! Poor Dino!"
+
+"Poor me, I think, since I was to be in every sense the loser. I am
+sorry to say I didn't treat your friend with civility, Luttrell. After
+your departure, however, he went himself to Netherglen, and there, it
+seems, he put the finishing stroke to any claim that he might have on
+the property." And then Percival proceeded to relate, as far as he knew
+it, the story of Dino's visit to Mrs. Luttrell, its effect on Mrs.
+Luttrell's health, and the urgent necessity that there was for Brian to
+return and arrange matters with Elizabeth. Brian tried to evade the last
+point, but Percival insisted on it so strongly that he was obliged to
+give him a decisive answer.
+
+"No," he said, at last. "I'm sorry to make it seem as if your voyage had
+been in vain; but, if we ever get off the Rocas Reef, I shall go on to
+the Brazils. There is not the least reason for me to go home. I could
+not possibly touch a penny of the Luttrells' money after what has
+happened. Miss Murray must keep it."
+
+"But, you see, there will be legal forms to go through, even if she does
+keep it, for which your presence will be required."
+
+"You don't mean that, Heron; you know I can do all that in writing."
+
+"You won't get Miss Murray to touch a farthing of it either."
+
+"You must persuade her," said Brian, calmly. "I think you will
+understand my feeling, when I say that I would rather she had it--she
+and you--than anybody in the world."
+
+"You must come back. I promised to bring you back," returned Percival,
+with some agitation of manner. "I said that I would not go back without
+you."
+
+"I will write to Mr. Colquhoun and explain."
+
+"Confound it! What Colquhoun thinks does not signify. It is Elizabeth
+whom I promised."
+
+"Well," said Brian slowly, and with some difficulty, "I think I can
+explain it to her, too, if you will let me write to her."
+
+Percival suppressed a groan.
+
+"Why should I go back?" asked Luttrell. "I see no reason."
+
+"And I wish you did not drive me to tell you the reason," said Percival,
+in crabbed, reluctant tones. "But it must come, sooner or later. If you
+won't go for any other reason, will you go when I tell you that
+Elizabeth Murray cares for you as she never cared for me, and never will
+care for any other man in the world? That was why I came to fetch you
+back; and, if you don't find it a reason for going back and marrying
+her, why--you deserve to stop on the Rocas Reef for the remainder of
+your natural life!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+KITTY.
+
+
+Winter had come to our cold northern isles. The snow lay thick upon the
+ground, but a sharp frost had made it hard and crisp. It sparkled in a
+flood of brilliant sunshine; the air was fresh and exhilarating, the sky
+transparently blue. It was a pleasant day for walking, and one that Miss
+Kitty Heron seemed thoroughly to enjoy, as she trod the white carpet
+with which nature had provided the world.
+
+She carried a little basket on her arm: a basket filled with good things
+for some children in a cottage not far from Strathleckie. The good
+things were of Elizabeth's providing; but Kitty acted as her almoner.
+Kitty was a very charming almoner, with her slight, graceful little
+figure and _mignonne_ face set off by a great deal of brown fur and a
+dress of deep Indian red. The sharpness in the air brought a faint
+colour to her cheeks--Kitty was generally rather pale--and a new
+brightness to her pretty eyes. There was something delightfully
+bewitching about her: something provoking and coquettish: something of
+which Hugo Luttrell was pleasantly conscious as he came down the road to
+meet her and then walked for a little way at her side.
+
+They did not say very much. There were a few ardent speeches from him, a
+vehement sort of love-making, which Kitty parried with a good deal of
+laughing adroitness, some saucy speeches from her which all the world
+might have heard, and then the cottage was reached.
+
+"Let me go in with you," said Hugo.
+
+"Certainly not. You would frighten the children."
+
+"Am I so very terrible? Not to you; don't say that I frighten you."
+
+"I should think not," said Kitty, with a little toss sideways of her
+dainty head. "I am frightened of nothing."
+
+"I should think not. I should think that you were the bravest of women,
+as you are the most charming."
+
+"Oh, please! I am not accustomed to these compliments. I must take my
+cakes to the children. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye," said Hugo, taking her hand, and keeping it in his own while
+he spoke. "I may wait for you here and go back with you to Strathleckie,
+may I not?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no," said Kitty. "You'll catch cold."
+
+Then she looked down at her imprisoned hand, and up into his face,
+sweetly smiling all the time, and, if they had not been within sight of
+the cottage windows, Hugo would have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her there and then.
+
+"I never catch cold. I shall walk about here till you come back. You
+don't dislike my company, I hope?"
+
+It was said vehemently, with a sudden kindling of his dark eyes.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Kitty, feeling rather frightened, in spite of her
+previous professions of courage, though she did not quite know why. "I
+shall be very pleased. I must go now." And then she vanished hastily
+into the cottage.
+
+Hugo waited for some time, little guessing the fact that she was
+protracting her visit as much as possible, and furtively peeping through
+the blinds now and then in order to see if he were gone. Kitty had had
+some experience of his present mood, and was not certain that she liked
+it. But his patience was greater than hers. She was forced to come out
+at last, and before she had gone two steps he was at her side.
+
+"I thought you were never going to leave that wretched hole," he said.
+
+"Don't call it a wretched hole. It is very clean and nice. I often think
+that I should like to live in a cottage like that."
+
+"With someone who loved you," said Hugo, coming nearer, and gazing into
+her face.
+
+Kitty made a little _moue_.
+
+"The cottage would only hold one person comfortably," she said.
+
+"Then you shall not live in a cottage. You shall live in a far
+pleasanter place. What should you say to a little villa on the shores of
+the Mediterranean, with orange groves behind it, and the beautiful blue
+sea before? Should you like that, Kitty? You have only to say the word,
+and you know that it will be yours."
+
+"Then I won't say the word," said Kitty, turning away her head. "I like
+Scotland better than the Mediterranean."
+
+"Then let it be Scotland. What should you say to Netherglen?"
+
+"I prefer Strathleckie," replied the girl, with her most provoking
+smile.
+
+"That is no answer. You must give me an answer some day," said Hugo,
+whose voice was beginning to tremble. "You know what I mean: you
+know----"
+
+"Oh, what a lovely bit of bramble in the hedge!" cried Kitty, making
+believe that she had not been listening. "Look, it has still a leaf or
+two, and the stem is frosted all over and the veins traced in silver! Do
+get it for me: I must take it home."
+
+Hugo did her bidding rather unwillingly; but his sombre eyes were
+lighted with a reluctant smile, or a sort of glow that did duty for a
+smile, as she thanked him.
+
+"It is beautiful: it is like a piece of fairies' embroidery; far more
+beautiful than jewels would be. Oh, I wonder how people can make such a
+fuss about jewels, when they are so much less beautiful than these
+simple, natural things."
+
+"These will soon melt away; jewels won't melt," said Hugo. "I should
+like to see you with jewels on your neck and arms--you ought to be
+covered with diamonds."
+
+"That is not complimentary," laughed Kitty, "it sounds as if you thought
+they would make me better-looking. Now, you should compliment a person
+on what she is, and not on what she might be."
+
+"I have got beyond the complimentary stage," said Hugo. "What is the use
+of telling you that you are the most beautiful girl I ever met, or the
+most charming, or anything of that kind? The only thing I know"--and he
+lowered his voice almost to a whisper, and spoke with a fierce intensity
+that made Kitty shrink away from him--"the only thing I know is that you
+are the one woman in the world for me, and that I would sooner see you
+dead at my feet than married to another man!"
+
+Kitty had turned pale: how was she to reply? She cast her eyes up and
+down the road in search of some suggestion. Oh, joy and relief! she saw
+a figure in the distance. Perhaps it was somebody from Strathleckie;
+they were not far from the lodge now. She spoke with renewed courage,
+but she did not know exactly what she said.
+
+"Who is this coming down the road? He is going up to Strathleckie, I
+believe; he seems to be pausing at the gates. Oh, I hope it is a
+visitor. I do like having the house full; and we have been so melancholy
+since Percival went on that horrid expedition to Brazil. Who can it be?"
+
+"What does it matter?" said Hugo. "Can you not listen to me for one
+moment? Kitty--darling--wait!"
+
+"I can't; I really can't!" said Kitty, quickening her pace
+almost to a run. "Oh, Hugo--Mr. Luttrell--you must not say such
+things--besides--look, it's Mr. Vivian; it really is! I haven't seen him
+for two years."
+
+And she actually ran away from him, coming face to face with her old
+friend, at the Strathleckie gates.
+
+Hugo followed sullenly. He did not like to be repulsed in that way. And
+he had reasons for wishing to gain Kitty's consent to a speedy marriage.
+He wanted to leave the country before the return of Percival Heron,
+whose errand to South America he guessed pretty accurately, although Mr.
+Colquhoun had thought fit to leave him in the dark about it. Hugo
+surmised, moreover, that Dino had told Brian Luttrell the history of
+Hugo's conduct to him in London: if so, Brian Luttrell was the last man
+whom Hugo desired to meet. And if Brian returned to England with
+Percival, the story would probably become known to the Herons; and then
+how could he hope to marry Kitty? With Brian's return, too, some
+alteration in Mrs. Luttrell's will might possibly be expected. The old
+lady's health had lately shown signs of improvement: if she were to
+recover sufficiently to indicate her wishes to her son, Hugo might find
+himself deprived of all chance of Netherglen. For these reasons he was
+disposed to press for a speedy conclusion to the matter.
+
+He came up to the gates, and found Kitty engaged in an animated
+conversation with Mr. Vivian; her cheeks were carnation, and her eyes
+brilliant. She was laughing with rather forced vivacity as he
+approached. In his opinion she had seldom appeared to more advantage;
+while to Rupert's eyes she seemed to have altered for the worse.
+Dangerously, insidiously pretty, she was, indeed; but a vain little
+thing, no doubt; a finished coquette by the way she talked and lifted
+her eyes to Hugo's handsome face; possibly even a trifle fast and
+vulgar. Not the simple child of sixteen whom he had last seen in
+Gower-street.
+
+"Won't you come in, Hugo? I am sure everybody would be pleased to see
+you," said poor Kitty, unconscious of being judged, as she tried to
+propitiate Hugo by a pleading look. She did not like him to go away with
+such a cross look upon his face--that was all. But as she did not say
+that she would be pleased to see him, Hugo only sulked the more.
+
+"How cross he looks! I am rather glad he is not coming in," said Kitty,
+confidentially, as Hugo walked away, and she escorted Rupert up the long
+and winding drive. "And where did you come from? I did not know that you
+were near us."
+
+"I have been staying at Lord Cecil's, thirty miles from Dunmuir. I
+thought that I should like to call, as you were still in this
+neighbourhood. I wrote to Mrs. Heron about it. I hope she received my
+note?"
+
+"I see you don't know the family news," said Kitty, with a beaming
+smile. "I have a new stepsister, just three weeks old, and Isabel is
+already far too much occupied with the higher education of women to
+attend to such trifles as notes. She generally hands them over to
+Elizabeth or papa. Then, you know, papa broke one of his ribs and his
+collar-bone a fortnight ago, and I expect that this accident will keep
+us at Strathleckie for another month or two."
+
+"That accounts for you being here so late in the year."
+
+"Or so early! This is January, not December. But I think we may stay
+until the spring. It is not worth while to take a London house now."
+
+Kitty spoke so dolefully that Rupert was obliged to smile. "You are
+sorry for that?" he said.
+
+"Yes. We are all rather dull; we want something to enliven us. I hope
+you will enliven us, Mr. Vivian."
+
+"I am afraid I can hardly hope to do so," said Rupert, coldly. "Of
+course, you have not the occupation that you used to have when you were
+in London."
+
+"When I went to school! No, I should think not," said Kitty, with her
+giddiest laugh. "I have locked up my lesson books and thrown away the
+key. So you must not lecture me on my studies as you used to do, Mr.
+Vivian."
+
+"I should not presume to do so," he said, with rather unnecessary
+stiffness.
+
+"But you used to do it! Have you forgotten?" asked Kitty, peeping up at
+him archly from under her long, curling eyelashes. There was a momentary
+smile upon his lips, but it disappeared as he answered quietly:--
+
+"What was allowable when you were a child, would justly be resented by
+you now, Miss Heron."
+
+"I should not resent it; indeed I should not mind," said Kitty, eagerly.
+"I should like it: I always like being lectured, and told what I ought
+to do. I should be glad if you would scold me again about my reading; I
+have nobody to tell me anything now."
+
+"I could not possibly take the responsibility," said Rupert. "If you
+have thrown away the key of your book-box, Miss Heron, I don't think
+that you will be anxious to find it again."
+
+"Oh, but the lock could be picked!" cried Kitty, and then repented her
+words, for Rupert's impassive face showed no interest beyond that
+required by politeness. The tears were very near her eyes, but she got
+rid of them somehow, and plunged into a neat and frosty style of
+conversation which she heartily detested. "This is Strathleckie; you
+have never seen it before, I think? It is on the Leckie property, but it
+is not an old place like Netherglen. I think it was built in 1840."
+
+"Not a very good style of architecture," said Rupert, scanning it with
+an attentive eye.
+
+"A good style of architecture, indeed!" commented Kitty to herself, as
+she ran away to her own room, after committing Mr. Vivian to the care of
+her step-mother, who was lying on a sofa in the drawing-room, quite
+ready to unfold her views about the higher education of girls. "What a
+piece of ice he is! He used not to be so frigid. I wonder if we offended
+him in any way before we left London. He has never been nice since then.
+Nice? He is simply hateful!" and Kitty stamped on the floor of her
+bed-room with alarming vehemence, but the crystal drops that had been so
+long repressed were trembling on her eyelashes, and giving to her face
+the grieved look of a child.
+
+Meanwhile Vivian was thinking:--"What a pity she is so spoilt! A
+coquettish, hare-brained flirt: that is all that she is now, and she
+promised to be a sweet little woman two years ago! What business had she
+to be out walking with Hugo Luttrell? I should have heard of it if they
+were going to be married. I suppose she has had nobody to look after
+her. And yet Miss Murray always struck me as a sensible, staid kind of
+girl. Why can she not keep her cousin in order?" And then Rupert was
+conscious of a certain sense of impatience for Kitty's return, much as
+he disapproved of her alluring ways.
+
+He was prevailed on to stay the night, and his visit was prolonged day
+after day, until it was accepted as a settled thing that he would remain
+for some time--perhaps even until Percival came home. It had been
+calculated that Percival might easily be home in February.
+
+He could not easily maintain the coldness and reserve with which he had
+begun to treat Kitty Heron. There was something so winning and so
+childlike about her at times, that he dropped unconsciously into the old
+familiar tone. Then he would try to draw back, and would succeed,
+perhaps, in saying something positively rude or unkind, which would
+bring the tears to her eyes, and the flush of vexation to her face. At
+least, if it was not really unkind it sounded so to Kitty, and that came
+to the same thing. And when she was vexed, he was illogical enough to
+feel uncomfortable.
+
+But Kitty's crowning offence was her behaviour at a dinner-party, on the
+occasion of the christening of Mrs. Heron's little girl. Hugo Luttrell
+and the two young Grants from Dunmuir were amongst the guests; and with
+them Kitty amused herself. She did not mean any harm, poor child; she
+chattered gaily and looked up into their faces, with a gleeful
+consciousness that Rupert was watching her, and that she could show him
+now that some people admired her if he did not. Archie Grant certainly
+admired her prodigiously; he haunted her steps all through the evening,
+hung over the piano when she sang a gay little French _chanson_; turned
+over a portfolio of Mr. Heron's sketches with her in a corner. On the
+other hand, Hugo, who took her in to dinner, whispered things to her
+that made her start and blush. Vivian would have liked very much to know
+what he said. He did not approve of that darkly handsome face, with the
+haggard, evil-looking eyes, being thrust so close to Kitty's soft cheeks
+and pretty flower-decked head. He was glad to think that he had
+prevailed on Angela to leave Netherglen. He was not fond of Hugo
+Luttrell.
+
+He was stiffer and graver than usual that evening; not even the
+appearance of the newly-christened Dorothy Elizabeth, in a very long
+white robe, won a smile from him. He never approached Kitty--never said
+a word to her--until he was obliged to say good-night. And then she
+looked up to him with her dancing eyes and pretty smile, and said:--
+
+"You never came near me all the evening, and you had promised to sing a
+duet with me."
+
+"Is the little coquette trying her wiles on me!" thought Rupert,
+sternly; but aloud he answered, with grave indifference,
+
+"You were better employed. You had your own friends."
+
+"And are you not a friend?" cried Kitty, biting her lip.
+
+"I am not your contemporary. I cannot enter into competition with these
+younger men," he answered, quietly.
+
+Kitty quitted him in a rage. Elizabeth encountered her as she ran
+upstairs, her cheeks crimson, her lips quivering, her eyes filled with
+tears.
+
+"My dear Kitty, what is the matter?" she said, laying a gently detaining
+hand on the girl's arm.
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all," declared Kitty; but she suffered herself to
+be drawn into Elizabeth's room, and there, sinking into a low seat by
+the fire, she detailed her wrongs. "He hates me; I know he does, and I
+hate him! He thinks me a horrid, frivolous girl; and so I am! But he
+needn't tell me that he does not want to be a friend of mine!"
+
+"Well, perhaps, you are rather too old to take him for a friend in the
+way you used to do," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "You were a child
+then; and you are eighteen now, you know, Kitty. He treats you as a
+woman: that is all. It is a compliment."
+
+"Then I don't like his compliments: I hate them!" Kitty asseverated. "I
+would rather he let me alone."
+
+"Don't think about him, dear. If he does not want to be friendly with
+you, don't try to be friendly with him."
+
+"I won't," said Kitty, in the tone of one who has taken a solemn
+resolution. Then she rose, and surveyed herself critically in
+Elizabeth's long mirror. "I am sure I looked very nice," she said. "This
+pink dress suits me to perfection and the lace is lovely. And then the
+silver ornaments! I'm glad I did not wear anything that he gave me, at
+any rate. I nearly put on the necklace he sent me when I was seventeen;
+I'm glad I did not."
+
+"Dearest Kitty, why should you mind what he thinks?" said Elizabeth,
+coming to her side, and looking at the exquisitely-pretty little figure
+reflected in the glass, a figure to which her own, draped in black lace,
+formed a striking contrast. But she was almost sorry that she had said
+the words, for Kitty immediately threw herself on her cousin's shoulder
+and burst into tears. The fit of crying did not last long, and Kitty was
+unfeignedly ashamed of it: she dried her tears with a very
+useless-looking lace handkerchief, laughed at herself hysterically, and
+then ran away to her own room, leaving Elizabeth to wish that the sense
+and spirit that really existed underneath that butterfly-like exterior
+would show itself on the surface a little more distinctly.
+
+But the last thing she dreamed of was that Kitty, with all her little
+follies, would outrage Rupert's sense of the proprieties in the way she
+did in the course of the following morning.
+
+Rupert was standing alone in the drawing-room, looking out of a window
+which commanded an extensive view. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Heron had come
+downstairs. Kitty had breakfasted in her own room; Elizabeth was busy.
+Mr. Vivian was wondering whether it might not be as well to go back to
+London. It vexed him to see little Kitty Heron flirting with
+half-a-dozen men at once.
+
+A voice at the door caused him to turn round. Kitty was entering, and as
+her hands were full, she had some difficulty in turning the handle.
+Rupert moved forward to assist her, and uttered a courteous
+good-morning, but Kitty only looked at him with flushed cheeks and
+wide-open resentful eyes, and made no answer.
+
+She was wearing an embroidered apron over her dark morning frock, and
+this apron, gathered up by the corners in her hands, was full of various
+articles which Rupert could not see. He was thoroughly taken aback,
+therefore, when she poured its contents in an indiscriminate heap upon
+the sofa, and said, in a decided tone:--
+
+"There are all the things you ever gave me; and I would rather not keep
+them any longer. I take presents only from my friends."
+
+Foolish Kitty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+KITTY'S FRIENDS.
+
+
+"How have I had the misfortune to offend you?" said Rupert, in a voice
+from which he could not banish irony as completely as he would have
+liked to do.
+
+"You said so yourself," replied Kitty, facing him with the dignity of a
+small princess. "You said that you were not my friend now."
+
+"When did I make that statement?" said Rupert, lifting his eyebrows.
+
+"Last night. And I knew it. You are not kind as you used to be. It does
+not matter to me at all; only I felt that I did not like to keep these
+things--and I brought them back."
+
+"And what am I to do with them?" said Rupert, approaching the sofa and
+looking at the untidy little heap. He gave a subdued laugh, which
+offended Kitty dreadfully.
+
+"I don't see anything to laugh at," she said.
+
+"Neither do I." But the smile still trembled on his finely-cut mouth.
+"What did you mean me to do with these things?" he asked. "These are
+trifles: why don't you throw them into the fire if you don't value
+them?"
+
+"They are not all trifles; and I did value them before you came to see
+us this time," said Kitty, with a lugubriousness which ought to have
+convinced him of her sincerity. "There are some bangles, and a cup and
+saucer, and two books; and there is the chain that you sent me by Mr.
+Luttrell in the autumn."
+
+"Ah, that chain," said Vivian, and then he took it up and weighed it
+lightly in his hand. "I have never seen you wear it. I thought at first
+that you had got it on last night: but my eyes deceived me. My sight is
+not so good as it used to be. Really, Miss Heron, you make me ashamed of
+my trumpery gifts: pray take them away, and let me give you something
+prettier on your next birthday for old acquaintance sake."
+
+"No, indeed!" said Kitty.
+
+"And why not? Because I don't treat you precisely as I did when you were
+twelve? You really would not like it if I did. No, I shall be seriously
+offended if you do not take these things away and say no more about
+them. It would be perfectly impossible for me to take them back; and I
+think you will see--afterwards--that you should not have asked me to do
+so."
+
+The accents of that calmly inflexible voice were terrible to Kitty. He
+turned to the window and looked out, but, becoming impatient of the
+silence, walked back to her again, and saw that her face had grown
+white, and was quivering as if she had received a blow. Her eyes were
+fixed upon the sofa, and her fingers held the chain which he had quietly
+placed within them; but it was evident that she was doing battle with
+herself to prevent the tears from falling. Rupert felt some remorse: and
+then hardened himself by a remembrance of the glances that had been
+exchanged between her and Hugo in that very room the night before.
+
+"I am old enough to be your father, you know," he began, gravely. This
+statement was not quite true, but it was true enough for conversational
+purposes. "I have sent you presents on your birthday since you were a
+very little girl, and I hope I may always do so. There is no need for
+you to reject them, because I think it well to remember that you are not
+a child any longer, but a young lady who has 'come out,' and wears long
+frocks, and does her hair very elaborately," he said, casting a smiling
+glance at Kitty's carefully-frizzled head. "I certainly do not wish to
+cease to be friends with--all of you; and I hope you will not drive me
+away from a house where I have been accustomed to forget the cares of
+the world a little, and find pleasant companionship and relaxation."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vivian!" said Kitty, in a loud whisper. The suggestion that she
+had power to drive him away seemed almost impious. She felt completely
+crushed.
+
+"Don't think any more about it," said Rupert, kindly, if
+condescendingly. "I never wished to be less of a friend to you than I
+was when you lived in Gower-street; but you must remember that you are a
+great deal altered from the little girl that I used to know."
+
+Kitty could not speak; she stooped and began to gather the presents
+again into her apron. Vivian came and helped her. He could not forbear
+giving her hand a little kindly pat when he had finished, as if he had
+been dealing with a child. But the playful caress, if such it might be
+called, had no effect on Kitty's sore and angry feelings. She was
+terribly ashamed of herself now: she could hardly bear to remember his
+calmly superior tone, his words of advice, which seemed to place her on
+a so much lower footing than himself.
+
+But in a day or two this feeling wore off. He was so kindly and friendly
+in manner, that she was emboldened to laugh at the recollection of the
+tone in which he had alluded to her elaborately-dressed hair and long
+dresses, and to devise a way of surprising him. She came down one day to
+afternoon tea in an old school-girlish dress of blue serge, rather short
+about the ankles, a red and white pinafore, and a crimson sash. Her hair
+was loose about her neck, and had been combed over her forehead in the
+fashion in which she wore it in her childish days. Thus attired, she
+looked about fourteen years old, and the shy way in which she glanced at
+the company from under her eyelashes, added to the impression of extreme
+youth. To carry out the character, she held a battledore and shuttlecock
+in her hand.
+
+"Kitty, are you rehearsing for a fancy ball?" said Mrs. Heron.
+
+"No, Isabel. I only thought I would try to transform myself into a
+little girl again, and see what it felt like. Do I look very young
+indeed?"
+
+"You look about twelve. You absurd child!"
+
+"Is the battledore for effect, or are you going to play a game with it?"
+asked Rupert, who had been surveying her with cold criticism in his
+eyes.
+
+"For effect, of course. Don't you think it is a very successful
+attempt?" she said, looking up at him saucily.
+
+He made no answer. Elizabeth wanted the tea-kettle at that moment, and
+he moved to fetch it. Hugo Luttrell, however, who was paying a call at
+the house, was ready enough with a reply.
+
+"It could not be more successful," he said, looking at her admiringly.
+"I suppose"--in a lowered tone--"that you looked like this in the
+school-room. I am glad those days are over, at any rate."
+
+"I am not," said Kitty, helping herself to bread and butter. "I should
+like them all over again--lessons and all." She stole a glance at
+Rupert, but his still face betrayed no consciousness of her remark. "I
+am going to keep up my character. I am going to play at battledore and
+shuttlecock with the boys in the dining-room. Who will come, too? _Qui
+m'aime me suit._"
+
+"Then I will be the first to follow," said Hugo, in her ear.
+
+She pouted and drank her tea, glancing half-reluctantly toward Rupert.
+But he would not heed.
+
+"I will come, too," said Elizabeth, relieving the awkwardness of a
+rather long pause. "I always like to see you play. Kitty is as light as
+a bird," she added to Mr. Vivian, who bowed and looked profoundly
+uninterested.
+
+Nevertheless, in a few minutes he found the drawing-room so dull without
+the young people, that he, too, descended to see what was going on. He
+heard the sound of counting in breathless voices as he drew near the
+drawing-room. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, three hundred. One, two,
+three----"
+
+"Kitty and Mr. Luttrell have kept up to three hundred and three, Mr.
+Vivian!" cried one of the boys as he entered the room.
+
+Mr. Vivian joined the spectators. It was a pretty sight. Kitty, with her
+floating locks, flushed face, trim, light figure, and unerring accuracy
+of eye, was well measured against Hugo's lithe grace and dexterity. The
+two went on until eight hundred and twenty had been reached; then the
+shuttlecock fell to the ground. Kitty had glanced aside and missed her
+aim.
+
+"You must try, now, Mr. Vivian," she said, advancing towards him,
+battledore in hand, and smiling triumphantly in his face.
+
+"No, thank you," said Rupert, who had been shading his eyes with one
+hand, as if the light of the lamps had tried them: "I could not see."
+
+"Could you not? Oh, you are short-sighted, perhaps. Ah! there go Hugo
+and Johnny. This is better than being grown-up, I think. Am I like the
+little girl that you used to know in Gower-street now, Mr. Vivian?"
+
+It was perhaps her naming Hugo so familiarly that caused Rupert to
+reply, with a smile that was more cutting than reproof would have
+been:--
+
+"I prefer the little girl in Gower-street still."
+
+From the colour that instantly overspread her face and neck, he saw that
+she was hurt or offended--he did not know which. She left his side
+immediately, and plunged into the game with renewed ardour. She played
+until Hugo left the house about seven o'clock; and then she rushed up to
+her room and bolted herself in with unnecessary violence. She came down
+to dinner in a costume as different as possible from the one which she
+had worn in the afternoon. Her dress was of some shining white stuff,
+very long, very much trimmed, cut very low at the neck; her hair was
+once more touzled, curled and pinned, in its most elaborate fashion; and
+her gold necklet and bracelets were only fit for a dinner-party. It is
+to be feared that Rupert Vivian did not admire her taste in dress. If
+she had worn white cotton it would had pleased him better.
+
+There was a wall between them once more. She was more conscious of it
+than he was, but he did not perceive that something was wrong. He saw
+that she would not look at him, would not speak to him; he supposed that
+he had offended her. He himself was aware of an increasing feeling of
+dissatisfaction--whether with her, or with her circumstances, he could
+not define--and this feeling found expression in a sentence which he
+addressed to her two days after the game of battledore and shuttlecock.
+Hugo had been to the house again, and had been even less guarded than
+usual in his love-making. Kitty meant to put a stop to it sooner or
+later; but she did not quite know how to do it (not having had much
+experience in these matters, in spite of the coquettishness which Rupert
+attributed to her), and also she did not want to do it just at present,
+because of her instinctive knowledge of the fact that it annoyed Mr.
+Vivian. She was too much of a child to know that she was playing with
+edged tools.
+
+So she allowed Hugo a very long hand-clasp when he said good-bye, and
+held a whispered consultation with him at the door in a confidential
+manner, which put Rupert very much out of temper. Then she came back to
+the drawing-room fire, laughing a little, with an air of pretty triumph.
+Rupert was leaning against the mantelpiece; no one else was in the room.
+Kitty knelt down on the rug, and warmed her hands at the fire.
+
+"We have such a delightful secret, Hugo and I," she said, brightly. "You
+would never guess what it was. Shall I tell it to you?"
+
+"No," he answered, shortly.
+
+"No?" She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment, and then shrugged her
+shoulders. "You are not very polite to me, Mr. Vivian!" she said,
+half-playfully, half-pettishly.
+
+"I do not wish to share any secret that you and Mr. Hugo Luttrell may
+have between you," said Rupert, with emphasis.
+
+Kitty's face changed a little. "Don't you like him?" she said, in a
+rather timid voice.
+
+"Before I answer I should like to know whether you are engaged to marry
+him," said Mr. Vivian.
+
+"Certainly not. I never dreamt of such a thing. You ought not to ask
+such a question," said Kitty, turning scarlet.
+
+"I suppose I ought not. I beg your pardon. But I thought it was the
+case."
+
+"Why should you think so?" said Kitty, turning her face away from him.
+"You would have heard about it, you know--and besides--nobody ever
+thought of such a thing."
+
+"Excuse me: Mr. Luttrell seems to have thought of it," said Rupert, with
+rather an angry laugh.
+
+"What Mr. Luttrell thinks of is no business of yours," said Kitty.
+
+"You cannot deny it then!" exclaimed Vivian, with a mixture of
+bitterness and sarcastic triumph in his tone.
+
+She made no answer. He could not see her face, but the way in which she
+was twisting her fingers together spoke of some agitation. He tried to
+master himself; but he was under the empire of an emotion of which he
+himself had not exactly grasped the meaning nor estimated the power. He
+walked to the window and back again somewhat uncertainly; then paused at
+about two yards' distance from her kneeling figure, and addressed her in
+a voice which he kept carefully free from any trace of excitement.
+
+"I have no right to speak, I know," he said, "and, if I were not so much
+older than yourself, or if I had not promised to be your friend, Kitty,
+I would keep silence. I want you to be on your guard with that man. He
+is not the sort of man that you ought to encourage, or whom you would
+find any happiness in loving."
+
+"I thought it was not considered generous for one man to blacken
+another's character behind his back," said Kitty, quickly.
+
+"Well, you are right, it is not. If I had put myself into rivalry with
+Hugo Luttrell, of course, I should have to hold my tongue. But as I am
+only an outsider--an old friend who takes a kindly interest in the child
+that he has seen grow up--I think I am justified in saying, Kitty, that
+I do not consider young Luttrell worthy of you."
+
+The calm, unimpassioned tones produced their usual effect on poor Kitty.
+She felt thoroughly crushed. And yet there was a rising anger in her
+heart. What reason had Rupert Vivian to hold himself so far aloof from
+her? Was he not Percival's friend? Why should he look down from such
+heights of superiority upon Percival's sister?
+
+"I speak to you in this way," Rupert went on, with studied quietness,
+"because you have less of the guardianship usually given to girls of
+your age than most girls have. Mrs. Heron is, I know, exceedingly kind
+and amiable, but she has her own little ones to think of, and then she,
+too, is young. Miss Murray, although sensible and right-thinking in
+every way, is too near your own age to be a guide for you. Percival is
+away. Therefore, you must let me take an elder brother's place to you
+for once, and warn you when I see that you are in danger."
+
+Kitty had risen from her knees, and was now standing, with her face
+still averted, and her lips hidden by a feather fan which she had taken
+from the mantelpiece. There was a sharper ring in her voice as she
+replied.
+
+"You seem to think I need warning. You seem to think I cannot take care
+of myself. You have reminded me once or twice lately that I was a woman
+now and not a child. Pray, allow me the woman's privilege of choosing
+for myself."
+
+"I am sorry to have displeased you," said Vivian, gravely. "Am I to
+understand that my warning comes too late?"
+
+There was a moment's pause before she answered coldly:--
+
+"Quite too late."
+
+"Your choice has fallen upon Hugo Luttrell?"
+
+Kitty was stripping the feathers ruthlessly from her fan. She answered
+with an agitated little laugh:
+
+"That is not a fair question. You had better ask him."
+
+"I think I do not need," said Rupert. Then, in a low and rather ironical
+tone, he added, "Pray accept my congratulations." She bowed her head
+with a scornful smile, and let him leave the room without another word.
+What was the use of speaking? The severance was complete between them
+now.
+
+They had quarrelled before, but Kitty felt, bitterly enough, that now
+they were not quarrelling. She had built up a barrier between them which
+he was the last man to tear down. He would simply turn his back upon her
+now and go his own way. And she did not know how to call him back. She
+felt vaguely that her innocent little wiles were lost upon him. She
+might put on her prettiest dresses, and sing her sweetest songs, but
+they would never cause him to linger a moment longer by her side than
+was absolutely necessary. He had given her up.
+
+She felt, too, with a great swelling of heart, that her roused pride had
+made her imply what was not true. He would always think that she was
+engaged to Hugo Luttrell. She had, at least, made him understand that
+she was prepared to accept Hugo when he proposed to her. And all the
+world knew that Hugo meant to propose--Kitty herself knew it best of
+all.
+
+The day came on which Rupert was to return to London. Scarcely a word
+had been interchanged between him and Kitty since the conversation which
+has been recorded. She thought, as she stole furtive glances towards him
+from time to time, that he looked harassed, and even depressed, but in
+manner he was more cheerful than it was his custom to be. When the time
+came for saying good-bye, he held out his hand to her with a kindly
+smile.
+
+"Come, Kitty," he said, "let us be friends."
+
+Her heart gave a wild leap which seemed almost to suffocate her; she
+looked up into his face with changing colour and eager eyes.
+
+"I am sorry," she began, with a little gasp. "I did not mean all I said
+the other day, and I wanted to tell you----"
+
+To herself it seemed as if these words were a tremendous self-betrayal;
+to Vivian they were less than nothing--commonplace sentences enough;
+uttered in a frightened, childish tone.
+
+"Did you not mean it all?" he said, giving her hand a friendly pressure.
+"Well, never mind; neither did I. We are quits, are we not? I will not
+obtrude my advice upon you again, and you must forgive me for having
+already done so. Good-bye, my dear child; I trust you will be happy."
+
+"I shall never be happy," said Kitty, withdrawing her hand from his,
+"never, never, never!" And then she burst into tears and rushed out of
+the room.
+
+Vivian looked after her with a slightly puzzled expression, but did not
+attempt to call her back.
+
+It was not a very favourable day for Hugo's suit, and he was received
+that afternoon in anything but a sunshiny mood by Miss Heron. For almost
+the first time she snubbed him unmercifully, but he had been treated
+with so much graciousness on all previous occasions that the snubs did
+not produce very much impression upon him. And, finding himself alone
+with her for a few minutes, he was rash enough to make the venture upon
+which he had set his heart, without considering whether he had chosen
+the best moment for the experiment or not. Accordingly, he failed. A few
+brief words passed between them, but the few were sufficient to convince
+Hugo Luttrell that he had never won Kitty Heron's heart. To his infinite
+surprise and mortification, she refused his offer of marriage most
+decidedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+A FALSE ALARM.
+
+
+Angela's departure from Netherglen had already taken place. Hugo was not
+sorry that she was gone. Her gentle words and ways were a restraint upon
+him: he felt obliged to command himself in her presence. And
+self-command was becoming more and more a difficult task. What he wanted
+to say or to do presented itself to him with overmastering force: it
+seemed foolishly weak to give up, for the sake of a mere scruple of
+conscience, any design on which he had set his heart. And above all
+things in life he desired just now to win Kitty Heron for himself.
+
+"She has deceived me," he thought, as he sat alone on the evening of the
+day on which she had refused to marry him. "She made me believe that she
+cared for me, the little witch, and then she deliberately threw me over.
+I suppose she wants to marry Vivian. I'll stop that scheme. I'll tell
+her something about Vivian which she does not know."
+
+The fire before which he was sitting burnt up brightly, and threw a red
+glow on the dark panelling of the room, on the brocaded velvet of the
+old chair against which he leaned his handsome head, on the pale, but
+finely-chiselled, features of his face. The look of subtlety, of mingled
+passion and cruelty, was becoming engraved upon that face: in moments of
+repose its expression was evil and sinister--an expression which told
+its own tale of his life and thoughts. Once, in London, when he had
+incautiously given himself up in a public place to rejection upon his
+plans, an artist said to a friend as they passed him by: "That young
+fellow has got the very look I want for the fallen angel in my picture.
+There's a sort of malevolent beauty about his face which one doesn't
+often meet." Hugo heard the remark, and smoothed his brow, inwardly
+determining to control his facial muscles better. He did not wish to
+give people a bad impression of him. To look like a fallen angel was the
+last thing he desired. In society, therefore, he took pains to appear
+gentle and agreeable; but the hours of his solitude were stamping his
+face with ineradicable traces of the vicious habits, the thoughts of
+crime, the attempts to do evil, in which his life was passed.
+
+The ominous look was strongly marked on his face as he sat by the fire
+that evening. It was not the firelight only that gave a strange glow to
+his dark eyes--they were unnaturally luminous, as the eyes of madmen
+sometimes are, and full of a painful restlessness. The old, dreamy,
+sensuous languor was seldom seen in their shadowy depths.
+
+"I will win her in spite of herself," he went on, muttering the words
+half-aloud: "I will make her love me whether she will or no. She may
+fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before
+very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her
+brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February.
+Yes--before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife."
+
+He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.
+
+He did not sleep much that night. He had lately grown very wakeful, and
+on this night he did not go to bed at all. The servants heard him
+wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning, opening and
+shutting doors, pacing the long passages, stealing up and downstairs.
+One of the maids put her head out of her door, and reported that the
+house was all lit up as if for a dance--rooms and corridors were
+illuminated. It was one of Hugo's whims that he could not bear the dark.
+When he walked the house in this way he always lighted every lamp and
+candle that he could find. He fancied that strange faces looked at him
+in the dark.
+
+Confusion and distress reigned next day at Netherglen. Mr. Luttrell had
+taken upon himself to dismiss one or two of the servants, and this was
+resented as a liberty by the housekeeper, who had lived there long
+before he had made his appearance in Scotland at all. He had paid two of
+the maids a month's wages in advance, and told them to leave the house
+within four-and-twenty hours. The household had already been
+considerably reduced, and the indignant housekeeper immediately
+announced her intention of going to Mr. Colquhoun and inquiring whether
+young Mr. Luttrell had been legally empowered to manage his aunt's
+affairs. And seeing that this really was her intention, Hugo smiled and
+spoke her fair.
+
+"You're a little hard on me, Mrs. Shairp," he said, in dulcet tones. "I
+was going to speak to you privately about these arrangements. You, of
+course, ought never to go away from Netherglen, and, whoever goes, you
+shall not. You must be here to welcome Mr. Brian when he comes home
+again, and to give my wife a greeting when I bring her to
+Netherglen--which I hope I shall do very shortly."
+
+"An' wha's the leddy, Maister Hugo?" said the housekeeper, a little
+mollified by his words. "It'll be Miss Murray, maybe? The mistress liked
+the glint of her bonny een. 'Jean,' she said to me; the day Miss Murray
+cam' to pay her respects, 'Jean, yon lassie steps like a princess.'
+Ye'll be nae sae far wrang, Maister Hugo, if it's Miss Murray that ye
+mak' your bride."
+
+"It is not Miss Murray," said Hugo, carelessly; "it is her cousin, Miss
+Heron."
+
+Mrs. Shairp's eyebrows expressed astonishment and contempt, although her
+lips murmured only--"That wee bit lassie!" But she made no further
+objection to the plan which Hugo now suggested to her. He wanted her not
+to leave Mrs. Luttrell's service (or so he said), but to take a few
+weeks' holiday. She had a sister in Aberdeen--could she not pay this
+sister a visit? Mrs. Luttrell should have every care during the
+housekeeper's absence--two trained nurses were with her night and day;
+and a Miss Corcoran, a cousin of the Luttrell family, was shortly
+expected. Mr. Colquhoun had spoken to him about the necessity of
+economy, and for that reason he wished to reduce the number of servants
+as much as possible. He was going away to London, and there would be no
+need of more than one servant in the house. In fact, the gardener and
+his wife could do all that would be required.
+
+"Me leave my mistress to the care o' John Robertson and his wife!"
+ejaculated the housekeeper, indignantly.
+
+Whereupon Hugo had to convince her that Mrs. Luttrell was perfectly safe
+in the hands of the two nurses--at any rate for a week. During that
+week, one or two necessary alterations could be made in the house--there
+was a water-pipe and a drain that needed attention, in Hugo's
+opinion--and this could be done while the house was comparatively
+empty--"before Brian came home." With this formula he never failed to
+calm Mrs. Shairp's wrath and allay her rising fears.
+
+For she had fears. She did not know why Mr. Hugo seemed to want her out
+of the way. She fancied that he had secret plans which he could not
+carry out if the house were full of servants. She tried every possible
+pretext for staying at home, but she felt herself worsted at all points
+when it came to matters of argument. She did not like to appeal to Mr.
+Colquhoun. For she knew, as well as everybody in the county knew, that
+Mrs. Luttrell had made Hugo the heir to all she had to leave; and that
+before very long he would probably be the master of Netherglen. As a
+matter of fact, he was even now virtually the master, and she had gone
+beyond her duty, she thought, in trying to argue with him. She did not
+know what to do, and so she succumbed to his more persistent will. After
+all, she had no reason to fear that anything would go wrong. She said
+that she would go for a week or ten days, but not for a longer time.
+"Well, well," said Hugo, in a soothing tone, as if he were making a
+concession, "come back in a week, if you like, my good Mrs. Shairp. You
+will find the house very uncomfortable--that is all. I am going to turn
+painters and decorators loose in the upper rooms; the servants' quarters
+are in a most dilapidated condition."
+
+"If the penters are coming in, it's just the time that I sud be here,
+sir," said Mrs. Shairp, firmly, but respectfully. And Hugo smiled an
+assent.
+
+As a matter of fact he had got all he wanted. He wanted Mrs. Shairp out
+of the house for a week or ten days. For that space of time he wished to
+have Netherglen to himself. She announced, after some hesitation, that
+she would leave for Aberdeen on the twenty-eighth, and that she should
+stay a week, or at the most, a day or two longer. "She's safe for a
+fortnight," said Hugo to himself with a triumphant smile. He had other
+preparations to make, and he set to work to make them steadily.
+
+It was a remark made by Kitty herself at their last interview that had
+suggested to his mind the whole mad scheme to which he was devoting his
+mental powers. It all hinged upon the fact that Kitty was going to spend
+a week with some friends in Edinburgh--friends whom Hugo knew only by
+name. She went to them on the twenty-seventh. Mrs. Shairp left
+Netherglen the twenty-eighth. Two hours after Mrs. Shairp had started on
+her journey the two remaining servants were dismissed. The plumber, who
+had been severely inspected and cautioned as to his behaviour that
+morning by Mrs. Shairp, was sent about his business. One of the nurses
+was also discharged. The only persons left in the house beside Mrs.
+Luttrell, the solitary nurse, and Hugo himself, were two; a young
+kitchen-maid, generally supposed to be somewhat deficient in intellect,
+and a man named Stevens, whom Hugo had employed at various times in
+various capacities, and characterised (with rather an odd smile) as "a
+very useful fellow." The nurse who remained, protested vigorously
+against this state of affairs, but was assured by Hugo in the politest
+manner, that it would last only for a day or two, that he regretted it
+as much as she did, that he would telegraph to Edinburgh for another
+nurse immediately. What could the poor woman do? She was obliged to
+submit to circumstances. She could no more withstand Hugo's smiling,
+than she liked to refuse--in despite of all rules--the handsome gratuity
+that he slid into her hand.
+
+Meanwhile, Kitty was trying to forget her past sorrows in the society of
+some newly-made friends in Edinburgh. Here, if anywhere, she might
+forget that Rupert Vivian had despised her, and that Hugo Luttrell
+accused her of being a heartless coquette. She was not heartless--or, at
+least, not more so than girls of eighteen usually are--but, perhaps, she
+was a little bit of a coquette. Of course, she had acted foolishly with
+respect to Vivian and Hugo Luttrell. But her foolishness brought its own
+punishment.
+
+It was on the second day of her visit that a telegram was brought to
+her. She tore it open in some surprise, exclaiming:--
+
+"They must have had news of Percival!"
+
+Then she read the message and turned pale.
+
+"What is it?" said one of her friends, coming to her side.
+
+Kitty held out the paper for her to read.
+
+"Elizabeth Murray, Queen's Hotel, Muirside, to Miss Heron, Merchiston
+Terrace, Edinburgh. Your father has met with a serious accident, and is
+not able to move from Muirside. He wishes you to come by the next train,
+which leaves Edinburgh at four-thirty. You shall be met at the Muirside
+Station either by Hugo or myself."
+
+"There is time for me to catch the train, is there not?" said Kitty,
+jumping up, with her eyes full of tears.
+
+"Oh, yes, dear, yes, plenty of time. But who is to go with you?" said
+Mrs. Baxter, rather nervously. "I am so sorry John is not at home; but
+there is scarcely time to let him know."
+
+"I can go perfectly well by myself," said Kitty. "You must put me into
+the train at the station, Mrs. Baxter, under the care of the guard, if
+you like, and I shall be met at Muirside."
+
+"Where is Muirside?" asked Jessie Baxter, a girl of Kitty's age.
+
+"Five miles from Dunmuir. I suppose papa was sketching or something. Oh!
+I hope it is not a very bad accident!" said Kitty, turning great,
+tearful eyes first on Mrs. Baxter, and then on the girls. "What shall we
+do! I must go and get ready instantly."
+
+They followed her to her room, and anxiously assisted in the
+preparations for her journey, but even then Mrs. Baxter could not
+refrain from inquiring:--
+
+"Who is the person who is to meet you? 'Hugo'--do you know him?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he is Elizabeth's cousin, and Elizabeth is my cousin. We are
+connections you see. I know him very well," said Kitty, with a blush,
+which Mrs. Baxter remembered afterwards.
+
+"I would go with you myself," she said, "if it were not for the cold,
+but I am afraid I should be laid up with bronchitis if I went."
+
+"Let Janet go, mamma," cried one of the girls.
+
+"I don't want Janet, indeed, I don't want her," said Kitty, earnestly.
+"I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Baxter, but, indeed, I can manage quite
+well by myself. It is quite a short journey, only two-hours-and-a-half;
+and it would be a pity to take her, especially as she could not get back
+to-night."
+
+She carried her point, and was allowed to depart without an attendant.
+Mrs. Baxter went with her to the station, and put her under the care of
+the guard who promised to look after her.
+
+"You will write to us, Kitty, and tell us how Mr. Heron is," said Mrs.
+Baxter, before the train moved off.
+
+"Yes, I will telegraph," said Kitty, "as soon as I reach Muirside."
+
+"Do, dear. I hope you will find him better. Take care of yourself," and
+then the train moved out of the station, and Mrs. Baxter went home.
+
+Kitty's journey was a perfectly uneventful one, and would have been
+comfortable enough but for the circumstances under which she made it.
+The telegram lay upon her lap, and she read it over and over again with
+increasing alarm as she noticed its careful vagueness, which seemed to
+her the worst sign of all. She was heartily relieved when she found that
+she was nearing Muirside: the journey had never seemed so long to her
+before. It was, indeed, longer than usual, for the railway line was in
+some places partly blocked with snow, and eight o'clock was past before
+Kitty reached Muirside. She looked anxiously out of the window, and saw
+Hugo Luttrell on the platform before the train had stopped. He sprang up
+to the step, and looked at her for a moment without speaking. Kitty had
+time to think that the expression of his face was odd before he replied
+to her eager questions about her father.
+
+"Yes, he is a little better; he wants to see you," said Hugo at last.
+
+"But how has he hurt himself? Is he seriously ill? Oh, Hugo, do tell me
+everything. Anything is better than suspense."
+
+"There is no need for such great anxiety; he is a great deal better,
+quite out of danger," Hugo answered, with a rather strange smile. "I
+will tell you more as we go up to the house. Don't be afraid."
+
+And then the guard came up to assure himself of the young lady's safety,
+and to receive his tip. Hugo made it a large one. Kitty's luggage was
+already in the hands of a man whom she thought she recognised: she had
+seen him once or twice with Hugo, and once when she paid a state-call at
+Netherglen. Just as she was leaving the station, a thought occurred to
+her, and she turned back.
+
+"I said I would telegraph to Mrs. Baxter as soon as I reached Muirside.
+Is it too late?"
+
+"The office is shut, I think."
+
+"I am so sorry! She will be anxious."
+
+"Not if you telegraph first thing in the morning," said Hugo,
+soothingly. "Or--stay: I'll tell you what you can do. Come with me here,
+into the waiting-room--now you can write your message on a leaf of my
+pocket-book, and we will leave it with the station-master, to be sent
+off as soon as possible."
+
+"What shall I say?" said Kitty, sitting down at the painted deal table,
+which was sparsely adorned with a water-bottle and a tract, and chafing
+her little cold hands. "Do write it for me, Hugo, please. My fingers are
+quite numb."
+
+"Poor little fingers! You will be warmer soon," said Hugo, with more of
+his usual manner. "I will write in your name then. 'Arrived safely and
+found my father much better, but will write in a day or two and give
+particulars.' That does not tie you down, you see. You may be too busy
+to write to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you. It will do very nicely."
+
+She was left for a few minutes, whilst he went to the station-master
+with the message, and she took the opportunity of looking at herself in
+the glass above the mantelpiece, partly in order to see whether her
+bonnet was straight, partly in order to escape the stare of the
+waiting-room woman, who seemed to take a great deal of interest in her
+movements. Kitty was rather vexed when Hugo returned, to hear him say,
+in a very distinct tone:--
+
+"Come, dearest. We shall be late if we don't set off at once."
+
+"Hugo!" she ejaculated, as she met him at the door.
+
+"What is it, dear? What is wrong?"
+
+It seemed to her that he made his words still more purposely distinct.
+The woman in the waiting-room came to the door, and gazed after them as
+they moved away towards the carriage which stood in waiting. They made a
+handsome pair, and Hugo looked particularly lover-like as he gave the
+girl his arm and bent his head to listen to what she had to say. But
+Kitty's words were not loving; they were only indignant and distressed.
+
+"You should not speak to me in that way," she said.
+
+But Hugo laughed and pressed her arm as he helped her into the carriage.
+The man Stevens was already on the box. Hugo entered with her, closed
+the door and drew up the window. The carriage drove away into the
+darkness of an unlighted road, and disappeared from the sight of a knot
+of gazers collected round the station door.
+
+"It's like a wedding," said the woman of the waiting-room, as she turned
+back to the deal table with the water bottle and the tract. "Just like a
+wedding."
+
+Mrs. Baxter received her telegram next morning, and was comforted by it.
+She noticed that the message was dated from Muirside Station, and that
+she must, therefore, wait until Kitty sent the promised letter before
+she wrote to Kitty, as she did not know where Mr. Heron might be
+staying. But as the days passed on and nothing more was heard, she
+addressed a letter of inquiry to Kitty at Strathleckie. To her amaze it
+was sent back to Merchiston Terrace, as if the Herons thought that Kitty
+was still with her, and a batch of letters with the Dunmuir postmark
+began to accumulate on the Baxters' table. Finally there came a postcard
+from Elizabeth, which Mrs. Baxter took the liberty of reading.
+
+"Dear Kitty," it ran, "why do you not write to us? When are you coming
+back? We shall expect you on Saturday, if we hear nothing to the
+contrary from you. Uncle Alfred will meet you at Dunmuir."
+
+"There is something wrong here," gasped poor Mrs. Baxter.
+
+"What has become of that child if she is not with her friends? What does
+it mean?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+TRAPPED.
+
+
+No sooner had the carriage door closed, than Kitty began to question her
+companion about the accident to her father. Hugo replied with evident
+reluctance--a reluctance which only increased her alarm. She began, to
+shed tears at last, and implored him to tell her the whole story,
+repeating that "anything would be better than suspense."
+
+"I cannot say more than I have done," said Hugo, in a muffled voice.
+"You will know soon--and, besides, as I have told you, there is nothing
+for you to be alarmed at; indeed there is not. Do you think I would
+deceive you in that?"
+
+"I hope not," faltered Kitty. "You are very kind."
+
+"Don't call it kindness. You know that I would do anything for you."
+Then, noticing that the vehemence of his tone made her shrink away from
+him, he added more calmly, "you will soon understand why I am acting in
+this way. Wait for a little while and you will see."
+
+She was silent for a few minutes, and then said in a subdued tone:--
+
+"You frighten me, Hugo, by telling me that I shall know--soon; that I
+shall see--soon. What are you hiding from me? You make me fancy terrible
+things. My father is not--not-dying--dead? Hugo, tell me the truth."
+
+"I solemnly assure you, Kitty, that your father is not even in danger."
+
+"Then someone else is ill?"
+
+"No, indeed. Be patient for a little time, and you shall see them all."
+
+Kitty clasped her hands together with a sigh, and resigned herself to
+her position. She leaned back in the comfortably-cushioned seat for a
+time, and then roused herself to look out of the window. The night was a
+dark one: she could see little but vague forms of tall trees on either
+hand, but she felt by the motion of the carriage that they were going
+uphill.
+
+"We have not much further to go, have we?" she asked.
+
+"Some distance, I am sorry to say. Your father was removed to a
+farmhouse four miles from the station--the house nearest the scene of
+the accident."
+
+"Four miles!" faltered Kitty. "I thought that it was close to the
+station."
+
+"Is it disagreeable to you to drive so far with me?" said Hugo. "I will
+get out and sit on the box if you do not want me."
+
+"Oh, no, I should not like you to do that," said Kitty. But in her
+heart, she wished that she had brought Mrs. Baxter's Janet.
+
+Her next question showed some uneasiness, though of what kind Hugo could
+not exactly discover.
+
+"Whose brougham is this?"
+
+"Mrs. Luttrell's. I borrowed it for the occasion."
+
+"You are very good. I could easily have come in a fly."
+
+"Don't say you would rather have done so," said Hugo, allowing his voice
+to fall into a caressing murmur. But either Kitty did not hear, or was
+displeased by this recurrence to his old habit of saying lover-like
+things; for she gazed blankly out of the window, and made no reply.
+
+After an hour's drive, the carriage turned in at some white gates, and
+stopped in a paved courtyard surrounded by high walls. Kitty gazed round
+her, thinking that she had seen the place before, but she was not
+allowed to linger. Hugo hurried her through a door into a stone hall,
+and down some dark passages, cautioning her from time to time to make no
+noise. Once Kitty tried to draw back. "Where is Elizabeth?" she said.
+"Is not Isabel here? Why is everything so still?"
+
+Hugo pointed to the end of the corridor in which they stood. A nurse, in
+white cap and apron, was going from one room to another. She did not
+look round, but Kitty was reassured by her appearance. "Is papa there?"
+she said in a whisper. "Is this the farmhouse?"
+
+"Come this way," said Hugo, pointing with his finger to a narrow wooden
+staircase before them. Kitty obeyed him without a word. Her limbs
+trembled beneath her with fatigue, and cold, and fear. It seemed to her
+that Hugo was agitated, too. His face was averted, but his voice had an
+unnatural sound.
+
+They mounted two flights of stairs and came out upon a narrow landing,
+where there were three doors: one of them a thick baize door, the others
+narrow wooden ones. Hugo opened one of the wooden doors and showed a
+small sitting-room, where a meal was laid, and a fire spread a pleasant
+glow over the scene. The other door opened upon another narrow flight of
+stairs, leading, as Kitty afterwards ascertained, to a small bed-room.
+
+"Where is papa?" said Kitty, glancing hurriedly around her. "He cannot
+be on this floor surely? Please take me to him at once, Mr. Luttrell."
+
+"What have I done that I should be called Mr. Luttrell?" said Hugo, who
+was pulling off his fur gloves and standing with his back to the door.
+There was a look of triumph upon his face, which Kitty thought very
+insolent, and could not understand. "We are cousins after a fashion, are
+we not? You must eat and drink after your journey before you undergo any
+agitation. There is a room prepared for you upstairs, I believe. This
+meal seems to have been made ready for me as well as for you, however.
+Let me give you a glass of wine."
+
+He walked slowly towards the table as he spoke.
+
+"I do not want anything," said Kitty, impatiently. "I want to see my
+father. Where are the people of the house?"
+
+"The people of the house? You saw the nurse just now. I will go and
+ascertain, if you like, whether the patient can be seen or not."
+
+"Let me come with you."
+
+"I think not," said Hugo, slowly. "No, I will not trouble you to do
+that. I will be back in a moment or two. Excuse me."
+
+He made his exit very rapidly. From the sound that followed, it seemed
+that he had gone through the baize door. After a moment's hesitation
+Kitty followed and laid her hand on the brass handle. But she pushed in
+vain. There was no latch and no key to be seen, but the door resisted
+her efforts; and, as she stood hesitating, a man came up the narrow
+stair which she had mounted on her way from the courtyard, and forced
+her to retreat a step or two. He was carrying her box and hand-bag.
+
+"This door is difficult to open," said Kitty. "Will you please open it
+for me?"
+
+The man, Hugo's factotum, Stevens, gave her an odd glance as he set down
+his burden.
+
+"The door won't open from this side unless you have the key, miss," he
+said.
+
+"Not open from this side? Then I must have the key," said Kitty,
+decidedly.
+
+"Yes, miss." Steven's tone was perfectly respectful, and yet Kitty felt
+that he was laughing at her in his sleeve. "Mr. Luttrell, perhaps, can
+get you the key, miss."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Put the box down, please. No, it need not be
+uncorded until I know whether I shall stay the night."
+
+The man obeyed her somewhat imperiously-uttered commands with an air of
+careful submission. He then went down the dark stairs. Kitty heard his
+footsteps for some little distance. Then, came the sound of a closing
+door, and the click of a key in the lock. Then silence. Was she locked
+in? She wished that the baize door had not been closed, and she chid
+herself for nervousness. Hugo had shut it accidentally--it would be all
+right when he came back. Excited and fearful as she was, she chose to
+fortify herself against the unknown, by swallowing a biscuit and a
+draught of black coffee. When this was done she felt stronger in every
+way--morally as well as physically. She had been faint for want of food.
+
+Would Hugo never come back? He was absent a quarter-of-an-hour, she
+verified that fact by reference to a little enamelled watch which
+Elizabeth had given her on her last birthday. She had taken off her hat
+and cloak, and smoothed her rebellious locks into something like order
+before he returned.
+
+"Why have you been so long?" she said, rather plaintively, when the door
+moved at last. "And, oh, please, if I am to stop here at all, will you
+find out whether I can have the key of that door? The man who brought up
+my boxes says it will not open from this side, and I cannot bear to feel
+that I am shut in. May I go to papa, now?"
+
+"You do not like being a prisoner, do you?" said Hugo, totally ignoring,
+her last question. "So much the better for you--so much the better for
+me."
+
+Kitty recoiled a little. She did not know what had happened to him, but
+she saw that his face expressed some mood which she had never seen it
+express before. It was flushed, and his eyes glittered with an unnatural
+light. And surely there was a faint odour of brandy in the room which
+had not been there before his entrance! She recoiled from him, but she
+was brave enough to show no other sign of fear.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," she said, "but I know that I want to go to
+my father. Please put an end to this mystery and take me to him at
+once."
+
+"Yes, I will put an end to the mystery," said Hugo, drawing nearer to
+her, and putting out his hands as if he wished to take hers. "There is
+more of a mystery than you can guess, but there shall be one no longer.
+Ah, Kitty, won't you forgive me when I tell you what I have done? It was
+for your sake that I have sunk to these depths--or risen to these
+heights, I hardly know which to call them--for your sake, because I love
+you, love you as no other woman in the world, Kitty, was ever loved
+before!"
+
+He threw himself down on his knees before her, in passionate
+self-abasement, and lifted his ardent eyes pleadingly to her face.
+
+"Kitty, forgive me," he said. "Tell me that you forgive me before I tell
+you what I have done."
+
+Kitty had turned very pale. "What have you done?" she asked. "How can I
+forgive you if I do not know what to forgive? Pray get up, Hugo; I
+cannot bear to see you acting in this way."
+
+"How can I rise till I have confessed?" said Hugo, seizing one of her
+hands and pressing it to his lips. "Ah, Kitty, remember that it was all
+because I loved you! You will not be too hard upon me, darling? Tell me
+that you love me a little, and then I shall not despair."
+
+"But, I do not love you; I told you so before," said Kitty, trying hard
+to draw away her hand. "And it is wicked of you to say these things to
+me here and now. Where is my father? Take me to him at once."
+
+"Oh, my dearest, be kind and good to me," entreated Hugo. "Can you not
+guess?--then how can I tell you?--your father is well--as well as ever
+he was in his life."
+
+"Well?" cried Kitty. "Then was it a mistake? Was it some one else who
+was hurt? Who sent the telegram?"
+
+"I sent the telegram. I wanted you here."
+
+"Then it was a trick--a hoax--a lie? How dare you, sir! And why have you
+brought me here? What is this place?"
+
+"This place, Kitty, is Netherglen."
+
+"Netherglen!" said Kitty, in a relieved tone of voice. "Oh, it is not so
+very far from home."
+
+Then she turned sharply upon him with a flash in her eye that he had
+never seen before.
+
+"You must let me go home at once; and you will please understand, Mr.
+Luttrell, that I wish to have no further intercourse with you of any
+sort. After the cruel and unkind and useless trick that you have played
+upon me, you must see that you have put an end to all friendship between
+yourself and my family. My father will call you to account for it."
+
+Kitty spoke strongly and proudly. Her eyes met his undauntedly: her head
+was held high, her step was firm as she moved towards the door. If she
+trembled internally, she showed at least no sign of fear.
+
+"Ah, I knew that you would be angry at first," said Hugo; "but you will
+listen to me, and you will understand----"
+
+"I will not listen. I do not want to understand," cried Kitty, with a
+slight stamp of her little foot. "Angry at first! Do you think I shall
+ever forgive you? I shall never see you nor speak to you again. Let me
+pass."
+
+Hugo had still been kneeling, but he now rose to his feet and confronted
+her. The flush was dying out of his face, but his eyes retained their
+unnatural brightness still.
+
+"You cannot pass that door just yet," he said, with sudden, dangerous
+calmness. "You must wait until I let you go. You ask if I think you will
+ever forgive me? Yes, I do. You say you will never see me or speak to me
+again? I say that you will see me many times, and speak to me in a very
+different tone before you leave Netherglen."
+
+"Be kind enough to stand out of the way and open the door for me," said
+Kitty, with supreme contempt. "I do not want to hear any more of this
+nonsense."
+
+"Nonsense, do you call it? You will give it a very different name before
+long, my fair Kitty. Do you think I am in play? Do you think I should
+risk--what I have risked, if I meant to gain nothing by it? I am in
+sober, solemn earnest, and know very well what I am doing, and what I
+want to gain."
+
+"What can you gain," said Kitty, boldly facing him, "except disgrace and
+punishment? What do you think my father will say to you for bringing me
+away from Edinburgh on false pretences? What will you tell my brother
+when he comes home?"
+
+"As for your brother," said Hugo, with a sneer, "he is not very likely
+to come home again at all. His ship has been wrecked, and all lives
+lost. As for your father----"
+
+He was interrupted by a passionate cry from the girl's pale lips.
+
+"Wrecked! Percival's ship lost! Oh, it cannot be true!"
+
+"It is true enough--at least report says so. It may be a false report!"
+
+"It must be a false report! You would not have the heart to tell me the
+news so cruelly if it were true! But no, I forgot. You made me believe
+that my father was dying; you do not mind being cruel. Still, I don't
+believe you. I shall never again believe a word you say. Oh! Percival,
+Percival!" And then, to prove how little she believed him, Kitty burst
+into tears, and pressed her handkerchief to her face. Hugo stood and
+watched her earnestly, and she, on looking up, found his eyes fixed upon
+her. The gaze brought back all her ire. "Order the carriage for me at
+once, and let me go out of your sight," she said. "I cannot bear to look
+at you!"
+
+Kitty was not dignified in her wrath, but she was so pretty that Hugo's
+lips curled with a smile of enjoyment. At the same time he felt that he
+must bring her to a sense of her position. She had not as yet the least
+notion of what he meant to require of her. And it would be better that
+she should understand. He folded his arms and leant against the door as
+he spoke.
+
+"You are not going away just yet," he said. "I have got my pretty bird
+caged at last, and she may beat her wings against the bars as much as
+she pleases, but she will not leave her cage until she is a little tamer
+than she is now. When she can sing to the tune I will teach her, I will
+let her go."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Kitty. "Stand away from the door, Mr. Luttrell.
+I want to pass."
+
+"I will stand aside presently and let you go--as far as the doors will
+let you. But just now you must listen to me."
+
+"I will not listen. I will call the servants," she said, pulling a
+bell-handle which she had found beside the mantelpiece.
+
+"Ring as much as you please. Nobody will come. The bell-wire has been
+cut."
+
+"Then I will call. Somebody must hear."
+
+"My man, Stevens, may hear, perhaps. But he will not come unless I
+summon him."
+
+"But the other servants----"
+
+"There are no other servants in this part of the house. The kitchen-maid
+and the nurse sleep close to Mrs. Luttrell's room--so far away that not
+your loudest scream would reach their ears. You are in my power, Kitty.
+I could kill you if I liked, and nobody could interfere."
+
+What strange light was that within his eyes? Was it the light of madness
+or of love? For the first time Kitty was seized with positive fear of
+him. She listened, the colour dying out of her face, and her eyes slowly
+dilating with terror as she heard what he had to say.
+
+"I will tell you now what I have done," he said, "and then I will ask
+you, once more, to forgive me. It is your own fault if I love you madly,
+wildly, as I do. You led me on. You let me tell you that I loved you;
+you seemed to care for me too, sometimes. By the time that you had made
+up your mind, to throw me over, Kitty, my love had grown into a passion
+that must be satisfied. There are two ways in which, it can end, and two
+only. I might kill you--other men of my race have killed the women who
+trifled with them and deceived them. I could forgive you for what you
+have made me suffer, if I saw you lying dead at my feet, child; that is
+the first way. And the second--be mine--be my wife; that is the better
+way."
+
+"Never!" said Kitty, firmly, although her white lips quivered with an
+unspoken fear. "Kill me, if you like. I would rather be killed than be
+your wife now."
+
+"Ah, but I do not want to kill you!" cried Hugo, his dark face lighting
+up with a sudden glow, which made it hatefully brilliant and beautiful,
+even in Kitty's frightened eyes. He left the door and came towards her,
+holding out his hands and gesticulating as he spoke. "I want you to be
+my wife, my own sweet flower, my exquisite bird, for whom no cage can be
+half too fine! I want you to be mine; my own darling----. I would give
+Heaven and earth for that; I have already risked all that makes life
+worth living. Men love selfishly; but you shall be loved as no other
+woman was ever loved. You shall be my queen, my angel, my wife!"
+
+"I will die first," said Kitty. Before he could interpose, she snatched
+a knife from the table, and held it with the point turned towards him.
+"Come a step nearer," she cried, "and I shall know how to defend
+myself."
+
+Hugo stopped short. "You little fool!" he said, angrily. "Put the knife
+down."
+
+She thought that he was afraid; and, still holding her weapon, she made
+a rush for the door; but Hugo caught her skilfully by the wrists,
+disarmed her, and threw the knife to the other end of the room. Then he
+made her sit down in an arm-chair near the fire, and without relaxing
+his hold upon her arm, addressed her in cool but forcible tones.
+
+"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You need not be so frightened or
+so foolish. I won't come near you, unless you give me leave. I am going
+to have your full and free consent, my little lady, before I make you my
+wife. But, this I want you to understand. I have you here--a prisoner;
+and a prisoner you will remain until you do consent. Nobody knows where
+you are--nobody will look for you here. You cannot escape; and if you
+could escape, nobody would believe your story. Do you hear?"
+
+He took away his hand from her arm. But she did not try to move. She was
+trembling from head to foot. He looked at her silently for a little
+time, and then withdrew to the door.
+
+"I will leave you now until to-morrow," he said, quietly. "There is a
+girl--a kitchen-maid--who will bring you your breakfast in the morning.
+You have this little wing of the house entirely to yourself, but I don't
+think that you will find any means of getting out of it. Good-night, my
+darling. You will forgive me yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+HUGO'S VICTORY.
+
+
+Kitty remained for some time in the state in which Hugo left her. She
+was only faintly conscious of his departure. The shutting of the baize
+door, and of another door beyond it, scarcely penetrated to her brain.
+She fancied that Hugo was still standing over her with a wild light in
+his eyes and the sinister smile upon his lips; and she dared not look up
+to see if the fancy were true. A sick, faint feeling came over her, and
+made her all the more disinclined to move.
+
+The fire, which had been burning hollow and red, fell in at last with a
+great crash; and the noise startled her into full consciousness. She sat
+erect in her chair, and looked about her fearfully. No, Hugo was not
+there. He had left the door of the room a little way open. With a
+shuddering desire to protect herself, she staggered to the door, closed
+it, looked for a key or a bolt, and found none; then sank down again
+upon a chair, and tried seriously to consider the position in which she
+found herself.
+
+There was not much comfort to be gained out of the reflections which
+occurred to her. If she was as much in Hugo's power as he represented
+her to be, she was in evil case, indeed. She thought over the
+arrangements which he seemed to have planned so carefully, and she saw
+that they were all devised so as to make it appear that she had been in
+the secret, that she had met him and gone away with him willingly. And
+her disappearance might not be made known for days. Mrs. Baxter would
+suppose that she was with her relations; her relations would think that
+she was still in Edinburgh. Inquiries might be made in the course of
+three or four days; but even if they were made so soon, they would
+probably be fruitless. The woman at the waiting-room, whose stare Kitty
+had resented, would perhaps give evidence that the gentleman had called
+her his "dearest," and taken her away with him in his carriage. She
+thought it all too likely that Hugo had planned matters so as to make
+everybody, believe that she had eloped with him of her own free-will.
+
+If escape were only possible! Surely there was some window, some door,
+by which she could leave the house! She would not mind a little danger.
+Better a broken bone or two than the fate which would await her as
+Hugo's wife--or as Hugo's prisoner. She turned to the window with a
+resolute step, drew aside the curtains, unbarred the shutters, and
+looked out.
+
+Disappointment awaited her. There was a long space of wall, and then the
+pointed roofs of some outhouses, which hid the courtyard and the road
+entirely from her sight. Beyond the roofs she could see the tops of
+trees, which, it was plain, would entirely conceal any view of her
+window from passers-by. It would be quite impossible to climb down to
+those sharp-gabled roofs; and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, the
+window was protected by strong iron bars, between which nobody could
+have squeezed more than an arm or foot. Moreover, the sash was nailed
+down. Kitty dropped the curtain with a despairing sigh.
+
+After a little hesitation, she took a candle and opened the sitting-room
+door. All was dark in the passage outside; but from the top of the
+flight of stairs leading to a higher storey, she could distinguish a
+glimmer of light which seemed to come from a window in the roof. She
+went up the stairs and found two tiny rooms; one a lumber-room, the
+other a bed-room. These were just underneath the roof, and had tiny
+triangular windows, which were decidedly too small to allow of anyone's
+escaping through them. Kitty peered through them both, and got a good
+view of the loch, glimmering whitely in the starlight between its black,
+wooded shores. She retraced her steps, and explored an empty room on the
+floor with her sitting-room, the window of which was also barred and
+nailed down. Then she went down the lower flight of steps until she came
+to a closed door, which had been securely fastened from the outside by
+the man who brought up her box. She shook it and beat it with her little
+fists; but all in vain. Nobody seemed to hear her knocks; or, if heard,
+they were disregarded. She tried the baize door with like ill-success.
+Hugo had said the truth; she was a prisoner.
+
+At last, tired and disheartened, she crept back to her sitting-room. The
+fire was nearly out, and the night was a cold one. She muffled herself
+in her cloak and crouched down upon the sofa, crying bitterly. She
+thought herself too nervous, too excited, to sleep at all; and she
+certainly did not sleep for two or three hours. But exhaustion came at
+last, and, although she still started at the slightest sound, she fell
+into a doze, and thence into a tolerably sound slumber, which lasted
+until daylight looked in at the unshuttered window, and the baize door
+moved upon its hinges to admit the girl who was to act as Miss Heron's
+maid.
+
+The very sight of a girl--a woman like herself--brought hope to Kitty's
+mind. She started up, pressing her hands to her brow and pushing back
+the disordered hair. Then she addressed the girl with eager, persuasive
+words. But the kitchen-maid only shook her head. "Dinna ye ken that I'm
+stane-deef?" she said, pointing to her ears with a grin. For a moment
+Kitty in despair desisted from her efforts. Then she thought of another
+argument. She produced her purse, and showed the girl some sovereigns,
+then led her to the door, intimating by signs that she would give her
+the money if she would but open it. The girl seemed to understand, but
+laughed again and shook her head. "Na, na," she said. "I daurna lat ye
+oot sae lang's the maister's here." Hugo's coadjutors were apparently
+incorruptible.
+
+The kitchen-maid proved herself equal to all the work required of her.
+She relighted the fire, cleared away the uneaten supper, and brought
+breakfast and hot water. Kitty discovered that everything she required
+was handed to the girl through a sliding panel in the door at the bottom
+of the stairs. There was no chance of escape through any chance opening
+of the door.
+
+She had no appetite, but she knew that she ought to eat in order to keep
+up her strength and courage. She therefore drank some coffee, and ate
+the scones which the maid brought her. The girl then took away the
+breakfast-things, put fresh fuel on the fire, and departed by the lower
+door. Kitty would have kept her if she could. Even a deaf kitchen-maid
+was better than no company at all.
+
+The view from the windows was no more encouraging by day than night.
+There seemed to be no way of communicating with the outer world. A
+letter flung from either storey would only reach the slanting roofs
+below, and lie on the slates until destroyed by snow and rain. Kitty
+doubted whether her voice would reach the courtyard, even if she raised
+it to its highest pitch. She tried it from the attic window, but it
+seemed to die away in the heights, and she could hardly hope that it had
+been heard by anyone either inside or outside the house.
+
+She was left alone for some time. About noon, as she was standing by her
+window, straining her eyes to discover some trace of a human being in
+the distance, whose attention she perhaps might catch if one could only
+be seen, she heard the door open and close again. She knew the footstep:
+it was neither that of the deaf girl nor of the man Stevens. It was Hugo
+Luttrell coming once more to plead his cause or lay his commands upon
+her.
+
+She turned round unwillingly and glanced at him with a faint hope that
+the night might have brought him to some change of purpose. But although
+the excitement of the previous evening had disappeared, there was no
+sign of relenting in his face. He came up to her and tried to take her
+hand.
+
+"_Nuit porte conseil_," he began. "Have you thought better of last
+night's diversions? Have you arrived at any decision yet?"
+
+"Oh, Hugo," she burst out, clasping her hands, "don't speak to me in
+that sneering, terrible way. Have a little pity upon me. Let me go
+home!"
+
+"You shall go home to-morrow, if you will go as my wife, Kitty."
+
+"But you know that can never be," she expostulated. "How can you expect
+me to be your wife after all that you have made me suffer? Do you think
+I could ever love you as a wife should do? You would be miserable; and
+I--I--should break my heart." She burst into tears as she concluded, and
+wrung her hands together.
+
+"Why did you make me suffer if you want me to pity you now?" said Hugo,
+in a low, merciless tone. "You used me shamefully: you know you did. I
+swore then to have my revenge; and I have it now. For every one of the
+tears you shed now, I have shed drops of my heart's blood. It is nothing
+to me if you suffer: your pain is nothing to what mine was when you cast
+me off like an old glove because your fancy had settled on Rupert
+Vivian. You shall feel your master now: you shall be mine and mine only;
+not his, nor any other's. I will have my revenge."
+
+"My fancy had settled on Rupert Vivian!" repeated Kitty, with a sudden
+rush of colour to her face. "Ah, how little you know about it! Rupert
+Vivian is far above me: he does not care for me. You have no business to
+speak of him."
+
+"He does not care for you, but you are in love with him," said Hugo,
+looking at her from between his narrowed eyelids with a long penetrating
+gaze. "I understand."
+
+Kitty shrank away from him. "No, no!" she cried. "I am not in love with
+anyone."
+
+"I know better," said Hugo. "I have seen it a long time: seen it in a
+thousand ways. You made no secret of it, you know. You threw yourself in
+his way: you did all that you could to attract him; but you failed. He
+had to tell you to be more careful, had he not?"
+
+"How dare you! How dare you!" cried the girl, starting up with her face
+aflame. "Never, never!" Then she threw herself down on the sofa and hid
+her face. Some memory came over her that made her writhe with shame.
+Hugo smiled to himself.
+
+"Everybody saw what was going on," he continued. "Everybody pitied you.
+People wondered at your friends for allowing you to manifest an
+unrequited attachment in that shameless manner. They supposed that you
+knew no better; but they wondered that Mrs. Heron and Elizabeth Murray
+did not caution you. Perhaps they did. You were never very good at
+taking a caution, were you, Kitty?"
+
+The only answer was a moan. He had found the way to torture her now; and
+he meant to use his power.
+
+"Vivian was a good deal chaffed about it. He used to be a great flirt
+when he was younger, but not so much of late years, you know. I'll
+confess now, Kitty, I taxed him one day with his conduct to you. He said
+he was sorry; he knew that you were head and ears in love with him----"
+
+"It is false," said Kitty, lifting a very pale face from the cushions
+amongst which she had laid it. "Mr. Vivian never said anything of the
+kind. He is too much of a gentleman to say a thing like that."
+
+"What do you know of the things that men say to each other when they are
+alone?" said Hugo, confident in her ignorance of the world, and
+professedly contemptuous. "He said what I have told you. And he said,
+too, that marriage was out of the question for him, on account of an
+unfortunate entanglement in his youth--a private marriage, or something
+of the kind; his wife is separated from him, but she is living still. He
+asked me to let you know this as soon and as gently as I could."
+
+"Is it true?" she asked, in a low voice. Her face seemed to have grown
+ten years older in the last ten minutes: it was perfectly colourless,
+and the eyes had a dull, strained look, which was not softened even by
+the bright drops that still hung on her long lashes.
+
+"Perfectly true," said Hugo. "Perhaps this paper will bring you
+conviction, if my word does not."
+
+He handed her a small slip cut from a newspaper, which had the air of
+having been in his possession for some time. Kitty took it and read:--
+
+"On the 15th of October, at St. Botolph's Church, Manchester, Rupert,
+eldest son of the late Gerald Vivian, Esq., of Vivian Court, Devonshire,
+to Selina Mary Smithson. No cards."
+
+Just a commonplace announcement of marriage like any other. Kitty's eyes
+travelled to the top of the paper where the date was printed: 1863. "It
+is a long while ago," she said, pointing to the figures. "His wife may
+be dead." Her voice sounded hoarse and unnatural, even in her own ears.
+
+"Perhaps so," said Hugo, carelessly. "If he said that she were, I should
+not be much inclined to believe him. After all these years of secrecy a
+man will say anything. But he told me last year that she was living."
+
+Kitty laid down the paper with a sort of gasp and shiver. She murmured
+something to herself--it sounded like a prayer--"God help me!" or words
+to that effect--but she was quite unconscious of having spoken. Hugo
+took up the paper, and replaced it carefully in his pocket-book. He had
+held it in reserve for some time now; but he was not quite sure that it
+had done all its work.
+
+"And now," he went on, "you see a part--not the whole--of my motives,
+Kitty. I had been raging in my heart against this fellow's insolence for
+long enough; I wanted to stop the slanderous tongues of the people who
+were talking about you; and I hoped--when you were so kind and gracious
+to me--that you meant to be my wife. Therefore, when I asked you and you
+refused me, I grew desperate. Believe me, Kitty, or not, as you choose,
+but my love for you has nearly maddened me. I could not leave you
+to lay yourself open to the world's contempt and scorn: I was
+afraid--afraid--lest Vivian should do you harm in the world's eyes, and
+so I tried to save you, dear, to save you from yourself and him--even
+against your own will, when I brought you here."
+
+His eyes grew moist, and lost some of their wildness: he drew nearer,
+and ventured almost timidly to take her hand. She did not repulse him,
+and from her silence and motionlessness he gathered courage.
+
+"I thought to myself," he said, "that here, at least, was a refuge: here
+was a man who loved you, and was ready to give you his home and his
+name, and show the world that he loved you in spite of all. Here was a
+chance for you, I thought, to show that you had not given your heart
+where it was not wanted; that you were not that pitiable object, a woman
+scorned. But you refused me. So then I took the law into my own hands.
+Was I so very wrong?"
+
+He paused, and she suddenly burst out into wild hysterical sobs and
+tears.
+
+"Let me go home," she said, between her sobs. "I will give you my answer
+then.... I will not forget! I will not be thoughtless and foolish any
+more.... But let me go home first: I must go home. I cannot stay here
+alone!"
+
+"You cannot go home, Kitty," said Hugo, modulating his voice to one of
+extreme softness and sweetness. He knelt before her, and took both her
+hands in his. "You left Mrs. Baxter's yesterday afternoon--to meet me,
+you said. Where have you been since then?--that will be the first
+question. You cannot go home without me now: what would the world say?
+Don't you understand?"
+
+"What does it matter what the world says? My father would know that it
+was all right," said Kitty, helplessly.
+
+"Would your father take you in?" Hugo whispered. "Would he not rather
+say that you must have planned it all, that you were not to be trusted,
+that you had better have married me when I asked you? For, if you leave
+this house before you are my wife, Kitty, I shall not ask you again to
+marry me. Are you so simple as not to know why? You would be
+compromised: that is all. You need not have obliged me to tell you so."
+
+She wrenched her hands away from him and put them before her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I see it all now," she moaned. "I am trapped--trapped. But I will
+not marry you. I will die rather. Oh, Rupert, Rupert! why do you not
+come?"
+
+And then she fell into a fit of hysterical shrieking, succeeded by a
+swoon, from which Hugo found some difficulty in recovering her. He was
+obliged to call the nurse to his aid, and the nurse and the kitchen-maid
+between them carried the girl upstairs and placed her on the bed. Here
+Kitty came to herself by degrees, but it was thought well to leave the
+kitchen-maid, Elsie, beside her for some time, for as soon as she was
+left alone the hysterical symptoms reappeared. She saw Hugo no more that
+day, but on the following morning, when she sat pale and listless over
+the fire in her sitting-room, he reappeared. He spoke to her gently, but
+she gave him no answer. She looked at him with blank, languid eyes, and
+said not a word. He was almost frightened at her passivity. He thought
+that he had perhaps over-strained matters: that he had sent her out of
+her mind. But he did not lose hope. Kitty, with weakened powers of body
+and mind, would still be to him the woman that he loved, and that he had
+set his heart upon winning for his wife.
+
+That day passed, and the next, with no change in her condition. Hugo
+began to grow impatient. He resolved to try stronger measures.
+
+But stronger measures were not necessary. On the fifth day, he came to
+her at eleven o'clock in the morning, with a curious smile upon his
+lips. He had an opera-glass in his hand.
+
+"I have something to show you, Kitty," he said to her.
+
+He led her to the window, and directed her attention to a distant point
+in the view where a few yards of the highroad could be discerned. "You
+see the road," he said. "Now look through the glass for a few minutes."
+
+Languidly enough she did as he desired. The strong glass brought into
+her sight in a few moments two gentlemen on horseback. Kitty uttered a
+faint cry. It was her father and Mr. Colquhoun.
+
+"I thought that we should see them in a minute or two," said Hugo,
+calmly. "They were here a quarter-of-an-hour ago."
+
+"Here! In this house?"
+
+"Yes; making inquiries after you. I think I quite convinced them that I
+knew nothing about you. They apologised for the trouble they had given
+me, and went away."
+
+"Oh, father, father!" cried Kitty, stretching out her arms and sobbing
+wildly, as if she could make him hear: "Oh, father, come back! come
+back! Am I to die here and never see you again--never again?"
+
+Hugo said nothing more. He had no need. She wept herself into quietness,
+and then remained silent for a long time, with her head buried in her
+hands. He left her in this position, and did not return until the
+evening. And then she spoke to him in a voice which showed that her
+strength had deserted her, her will had been bent at last.
+
+"Do as you please," she said. "I will be your wife. I see no other way.
+But I hate you--I hate you--and I will never forgive you for what you
+have done as long as ever I live."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+TOO LATE!
+
+
+Rupert Vivian went to London with a fixed determination not to return to
+Strathleckie. He told himself that he had been thinking far too much of
+the whims and vagaries of a silly, pretty girl; and that it would be for
+his good to put such memories of her bright eyes, and vain, coquettish
+ways as remained to him, completely out of his mind. He did his best to
+carry out this resolution, but he was not very successful.
+
+He had some troubles of his own, and a good deal of business to
+transact; but the weeks did not pass very rapidly, although his time was
+so fully occupied. He began to be anxious to hear something of his
+friend, Percival Heron; he searched the newspapers for tidings of the
+_Arizona_, he called at Lloyd's to inquire after her; but a mystery
+seemed to hang over her fate. She had never reached Pernambuco--so much
+was certain! Had she gone to the bottom, carrying with her passengers
+and crew? And the _Falcon_, in which Brian had sailed--also reported
+missing--what had become of her?
+
+Rupert knew enough of Elizabeth Murray's story to think of her with
+anxiety--almost with tenderness--at this juncture. He knew of no reason
+why the marriage with Percival should not take place, for he had not
+heard a word about her special interest in Brian Luttrell; but he had
+been told of Brian's reappearance, and of the doubt cast upon his claim
+to the property. He was anxious, for Percival's sake as well as for
+hers, that the matter should be satisfactorily adjusted; and he felt a
+pang of dismay when he first learnt the doubt that hung over the fate of
+the _Arizona_.
+
+His anxiety led him one day to stroll with a friend into the office of a
+shipowner who had some connection with the _Arizona_. Here he found an
+old sailor telling a story to which the clerks and the chief himself
+were listening with evident interest. Vivian inquired who he was. The
+answer made him start. John Mason, of the good ship _Arizona_, which I
+saw with my own eyes go down in eight fathoms o' water off Rocas reef.
+Me and the mate got off in the boat, by a miracle, as you may say. All
+lost but us.
+
+And forthwith he told the story of the wreck--as far as he knew it.
+
+Vivian listened with painful eagerness, and sat for some little time in
+silence when the story was finished, with his hand shading his eyes.
+Then he rose up and addressed the man.
+
+"I want you to go with me to Scotland," he said, abruptly. "I want you
+to tell this story to a lady. She was to have been married to the Mr.
+Heron of whom you speak as soon as he returned. Poor girl! if anything
+can make it easier for her, it will be to hear of poor Heron's courage
+in the hour of death."
+
+He set out that night, taking John Mason with him, and gleaning from him
+many details concerning Percival's popularity on board ship, details
+which he knew would be precious to the ears of his family by-and-bye.
+Mason was an honest fellow, and did not exaggerate, even when he saw
+that exaggeration would be welcome: but Percival had made himself
+remarked, as he generally did wherever he went, by his ready tongue and
+flow of animal spirits. Mason had many stories to tell of Mr. Heron's
+exploits, and he told them well.
+
+Vivian was anxious to see the Herons before any newspaper report should
+reach them; and he therefore hurried the seaman up to Strathleckie after
+a hasty breakfast at the hotel. But at Strathleckie, disappointment
+awaited him. Everybody was out--except the baby and the servants. The
+whole party had gone to spend a long day at the house of a friend: they
+would not be back till evening.
+
+Rupert was forced to resign himself to the delay. The man, Mason, was
+regaled in the servants' hall, and was there regarded as a kind of hero;
+but Vivian had no such distraction of mind. He had nothing to do: he had
+reasons of his own for neither walking out nor trying to read. He leaned
+back in an arm-chair, with his back to the light, and closed his eyes.
+From time to time he sighed heavily.
+
+He felt himself quite sufficiently at home to ask for anything that he
+wanted; and the glass of wine and biscuit which formed his luncheon were
+brought to him in the study, the room that seemed to him best fitted for
+the communication that he would have to make. He had been there for two
+or three hours, and the short winter day was already beginning to grow
+dim, when the door opened, and a footstep made itself heard upon the
+threshold.
+
+It was a woman's step. It paused, advanced, then paused again as if in
+doubt. Vivian rose from his chair, and held out both hands. "Kitty," he
+said. "Kitty, is it you?"
+
+"Yes, it is I," she said. Her voice had lost its ring; there was a
+tonelessness about it which convinced Rupert that she had already heard
+what he had come to tell.
+
+"I thought you had gone with the others," he said, "but I am glad to
+find you here. I can tell you first--alone. I have sad news, Kitty. Why
+don't you come and shake hands with me, dear, as you always do? I want
+to have your little hand in mine while I tell you the story."
+
+He was standing near the arm-chair, from which he had risen, with his
+hand extended still. There was a look of appeal, almost a look of
+helplessness, about him, which Kitty did not altogether understand. She
+came forward and touched his hand very lightly, and then would have
+withdrawn it had his fingers not closed upon it with a firm, yet gentle
+grasp.
+
+"I think I know what you have come to say," she answered, not struggling
+to draw her hand away, but surrendering it as if it were not worth while
+to consider such a trifle. "I read it all in the newspapers this
+morning. The others do not know."
+
+"You did not tell them?" said Rupert, a little surprised.
+
+"I came to tell them now."
+
+"You have been away? Ah, yes, I heard you talking about a visit to
+Edinburgh some time ago: you have been there, perhaps? I came to see
+your father--to see you all, so that you should not learn the story
+first from the newspapers, but I was too late to shield you, Kitty."
+
+"Yes," she said, with a weary sigh; "too late."
+
+"I have brought the man Mason with me. He will tell you a great deal
+more than you can read in the newspapers. Would you like to see him now?
+Or will you wait until your father comes?"
+
+"I will wait, I think," said Kitty, very gently. "They will not be long
+now. Sit down, Mr. Vivian. I hope you have had all that you want."
+
+"What is the matter, Kitty?" asked Vivian, with (for him) extraordinary
+abruptness. "Why have you taken away your hand, child? What have I
+done?"
+
+She made no answer.
+
+"You are in trouble, Kitty. Can I not comfort you a little? I would give
+a great deal to be able to do it. But the day for that is gone by."
+
+"Yes, it is gone by," echoed Kitty once more in the tones that never
+used to be so sad.
+
+"It is selfish to talk about myself when you have this great loss to
+bear," he pursued; "and yet I must tell you what has happened to me
+lately, so that you may understand what perhaps seems strange to you. Am
+I altered, Kitty? Do I look changed to your eyes in any way?"
+
+"No," she answered, hesitatingly; "I think not. But people do not change
+very easily in appearance, do they? Whatever happens, they are the same.
+I am not at all altered, they tell me, since--since you were here."
+
+"Why should you be?" said Rupert, vaguely touched, he knew not why, by
+the pathetic quality that had crept into her voice. "Even a great
+sorrow, like this one, does not change us in a single day. But I have
+had some weeks in which to think of my loss; small and personal though
+it may seem to you."
+
+"What loss?" said Kitty.
+
+"Is it no loss to think that I shall never see your face again, Kitty? I
+am blind."
+
+"Blind!" She said the word again, with a strange thrill in her voice.
+"Blind!"
+
+"Not quite, just yet," said Rupert, quietly, but with a resolute
+cheerfulness. "I know that you are standing there, and I can still grope
+my way amongst the tables and chairs in a room, without making many
+mistakes: but I cannot see your sweet eyes and mouth, Kitty, and I shall
+never look upon the purple hills again. Do you remember that we planned
+to climb Craig Vohr next summer for the sake of the fine view? Not much
+use my attempting it now, I am afraid--unless you went with me, and told
+me what you saw."
+
+She did not say a word. He waited a moment, but none came; and he could
+not see the tears that were in her eyes. Perhaps he divined that they
+were there.
+
+"It has been coming on for some time," he said, still in the cheerful
+tone which he had made himself adopt. "I was nearly certain of it when I
+was here in January; and since then I have seen some famous oculists,
+and spent a good deal of time in a dark room--with no very good result.
+Nothing can be done."
+
+"Nothing? Absolutely nothing?"
+
+"Nothing at all. I must bear it as other men have done. I am rather old
+to frame my life anew, and I shall never equal Mr. Fawcett in energy and
+power, though I think I shall take him as my model," said Rupert, with a
+rather sad smile, "but I must do my best, and I dare say I shall get
+used to it in time. Kitty, I thought--somehow--that I should like to
+hear you say that you were sorry.... And you have not said it yet."
+
+"I am sorry," said Kitty, in a low voice.
+
+The tears were falling over her pale cheeks, but she did not turn away
+her head--why should she? He could not see.
+
+"I have been a fool," said Vivian, with the unusual energy of utterance
+which struck her as something new in him. "I am thirty-eight--twenty
+years older than you, Kitty--and I have missed half the happiness that I
+might have got out of my life, and squandered the other half. I will
+tell you what happened when I was a lad of one-and-twenty--before you
+were a year old, Kitty: think of that!--I fell in love with a woman some
+years older than myself. She was a barmaid. Can you fancy me now in love
+with a barmaid? I find it hard to imagine, myself. I married her, Kitty.
+Before we had been married six weeks I discovered that she drank. I was
+tied to a drunken, brawling, foul-mouthed woman of the lower class--for
+life. At least I thought it was for life."
+
+He paused, and asked with peculiar gentleness:--
+
+"Am I telling you this at a wrong time? Shall I leave my story for
+another day? You are thinking of him, perhaps: I am not without thoughts
+of him, too, even in the story that I tell. Shall I stop, or shall I go
+on?"
+
+"Go on, please. I want to hear. Yes, as well now as any other time. You
+married. What then?"
+
+Could it be Kitty who was speaking? Rupert scarcely recognised those
+broken, uneven tones. He went on slowly.
+
+"She left me at last. We agreed to separate. I saw her from time to
+time, and made her an allowance. She lived in one place: I in another.
+She died last year."
+
+"Last year?"
+
+"Yes, in the autumn. You heard that I had gone into Wales to see a
+relation who was dying: that was my wife."
+
+"Did Percival know?" asked Kitty, in a low voice.
+
+"No. I think very few persons knew. I wonder whether I ought to have
+told the world in general! I did not want to blazon forth my shame."
+
+For a little time they both were silent. Then Rupert said, softly:--
+
+"When she was dead, I remembered the little girl whom I used to know in
+Gower-street; and I said to myself that I would find her out."
+
+"You found her changed," said Kitty, with a sob.
+
+"Very much changed outwardly; but with the same loving heart at the
+core. Kitty, I was unjust to you: I have come back to offer reparation."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For that injustice, dear. When I went away from Strathleckie in
+January, I was angry and vexed with you. I thought that you were
+throwing yourself away in promising to marry Hugo Luttrell--" then, as
+Kitty made a sudden gesture--"oh, I know I had no right to interfere. I
+was wrong, quite wrong. I must confess to you now, Kitty, that I thought
+you a vain, frivolous, little creature; and it was not until I began to
+think over what I had said to you and what you had said to me, that I
+saw clearly, as I lay in my darkened room, how unjust I had been to
+you."
+
+"You were not unjust," said Kitty, hurriedly; "and I was wrong. I did
+not tell you the truth; I let you suppose that I was engaged to Hugo
+when I was not. But----"
+
+"You were not engaged to him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I may say what I should have said weeks ago if I had not thought
+that you had promised to marry him?"
+
+"It cannot make much difference what you say now," said Kitty, heavily.
+"It is too late."
+
+"I suppose it is. I cannot ask any woman--especially any girl of your
+age--to share the burden of my infirmity."
+
+"It is not that. Anyone would be proud to share such a burden--to be of
+the least help to you--but I mean--you have not heard----"
+
+She could not go on. If he had seen her face, he might have guessed more
+quickly what she meant. But he could not see; and her voice, broken as
+it was, told him only that she was agitated by some strong emotion--he
+knew not of what kind. He rose and stood beside her, as if he did not
+like to sit while she was standing. Even at that moment she was struck
+by the absence of his old airs of superiority; his blindness seemed to
+have given him back the dependence and simplicity of much earlier days.
+
+"I suppose you mean that you are not free," he said. "And even if you
+had been free, my dear, it is not at all likely that I should have had a
+chance. There are certain to be many wooers of a girl possessed of your
+fresh sweetness and innocent gaiety. I wished only to say to you that I
+have been punished for any harsh words of mine, by finding out that I
+could not forget your face for a day, for an hour. I will not say that I
+cannot live without you; but I will say that life would have the charm
+that it had in the days of my youth, if I could have hoped that you,
+Kitty, would have been my wife."
+
+There was a faint melancholy in the last few words that went to Kitty's
+heart. Rupert heard her sob, and immediately put out his hand with the
+uncertain action of a man who cannot see.
+
+"Kitty!" he said, ruefully, "I did not mean to make you cry, dear. Don't
+grieve. There are obstacles on both sides now. I am a blind, helpless
+old fellow; and you are going to be married. Child, what does this
+mean?"
+
+Unable to speak, she had seized his hand and guided it to the finger on
+which she wore a plain gold ring. He felt it: he felt her hand, and then
+he asked a question.
+
+"Are you married already, Kitty?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To whom?"
+
+"To Hugo Luttrell." And then she sank down almost at his feet, sobbing,
+and her hot tears fell upon the hand which she pressed impulsively to
+her lips. "Oh, forgive me! forgive me!" she cried. "Indeed, I did not
+know what to do. I was very wicked and foolish. And now I am miserable.
+I shall be miserable all my life."
+
+These vague self-accusations conveyed no very clear idea to Vivian's
+mind; but he was conscious of a sharp sting of pain at the thought that
+she was not happy in her marriage.
+
+"I did not know. I would not have spoken as I did if I had known," he
+said.
+
+"No, I know you would not; and yet I could not tell you. You will hear
+all about it from the others. I cannot bear to tell you. And
+yet--yet--don't think me quite so foolish, quite so wrong as they will
+say that I have been. They do not know all. I cannot tell them all. I
+was driven into it--and now I have to bear the punishment. My whole life
+is a punishment. I am miserable."
+
+"Life can never be a mere punishment, if it is rightly led," said
+Vivian, in a low tone. "It is, at any rate, full of duties and they will
+bring happiness."
+
+"To some, perhaps; not to me," said Kitty, raising herself from her
+kneeling posture and drying her eyes. "I have no duties but to look nice
+and make myself agreeable."
+
+"You will find duties if you look for them. There is your husband's
+happiness, to begin with----"
+
+"My husband," exclaimed Kitty, in a tone of passionate contempt that
+startled him. But they could say no more, for at that moment the
+carriage came up to the door, and, from the voices in the hall, it was
+plain that the family had returned.
+
+A great hush fell upon those merry voices when Mr. Vivian's errand was
+made known. Mrs. Heron, who was really fond of Percival, was
+inconsolable, and retired to her own room with the little boys and the
+baby to weep for him in peace. Mr. Heron, Kitty, and Elizabeth remained
+with Rupert in the study, listening to the short account which he gave
+of the wreck of the _Arizona_, as he had learnt it from Mason's lips.
+And then it was proposed that Mason should be summoned to tell his own
+story.
+
+Mason's eyes rested at once upon Elizabeth with a look of respectful
+admiration. He told his story with a rough, plain eloquence which more
+than once brought tears to the listeners' eyes; and he dwelt at some
+length on the presence of mind and cheery courage which Mr. Heron had
+shown during the few minutes between the striking of the ship and her
+going down. "Just as bold as a lion, ladies and gentlemen; helping every
+poor soul along, and never thinking of himself. They told fine tales of
+one of the men we took aboard from the _Falcon_; but Mr. Heron beat him
+and all of us, I'm sure."
+
+"You took on board someone from the _Falcon_?" said Elizabeth, suddenly.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, three men that were picked up in an open boat, where they
+had been for five days and nights; the _Falcon_ having been burnt to the
+water's edge, and very few of the crew saved."
+
+Elizabeth's hands clasped themselves a little more tightly, but she
+suffered no sign of emotion to escape her.
+
+"Do you remember the names of the men saved from the _Falcon_?" she
+said.
+
+"There was Jackson," said the sailor, slowly; "and there was Fall; and
+there was a steerage passenger--seems to me his name was Smith, but I
+can't rec'llect exackly."
+
+"It was not Stretton?"
+
+"No, it warn't no name like that, ma'am."
+
+"Then they are both lost," said Elizabeth, rising up with a deadly calm
+in her fixed eyes and white face; "both lost in the great, wild sea. We
+shall see them no more--no more." She paused, and then added in a much
+lower voice, as if speaking to herself: "I shall go to them, but they
+will not return to me."
+
+Her strength seemed to give way. She walked a few steps unsteadily,
+threw up her hands as if to save herself, and without a word and without
+a cry, fell in a dead faint to the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A MERE CHANCE.
+
+
+Vivian went back to London on the following morning, taking Mason with
+him. He had heard what made him anxious to leave Strathleckie before any
+accidental meeting with Hugo Luttrell should take place. The story told
+of Kitty's marriage was that she had eloped with Hugo; and Mr. Heron, in
+talking the matter over with his son's friend, declared that an
+elopement had been not only disgraceful, but utterly unnecessary, since
+he should never have thought of opposing the marriage. He had been
+exceedingly angry at first; and now, although he received Kitty at
+Strathleckie, he treated her with great coldness, and absolutely refused
+to speak to Hugo at all.
+
+In a man of Mr. Heron's easy temperament, these manifestations of anger
+were very strong; and Vivian felt even a little surprised that he took
+the matter so much to heart. He himself was not convinced that the whole
+truth of the story had been told: he was certain, at any rate, that Hugo
+Luttrell had dragged Kitty's name through the mire in a most
+unjustifiable way, and he felt a strong desire to wreak vengeance upon
+him. For Kitty's sake, therefore, it was better that he should keep out
+of the way: he did not want to quarrel with her husband, and he knew
+that Hugo would not be sorry to find a cause of dispute with him.
+
+He could not abandon the hope of some further news of the _Arizona_ and
+the _Falcon_. He questioned Mason repeatedly concerning the shipwrecked
+men who had been taken on board but he obtained little information. And
+yet he could not be content. It became a regular thing for Vivian to be
+seen, day after day, in the shipowners' offices, at Lloyd's, at the
+docks, asking eagerly for news, or, more frequently, turning his
+sightless eyes and anxious face from one desk to another, as the
+careless comments of the clerks upon his errand fell upon his ear.
+Sometimes his secretary came with him: sometimes, but, more seldom, a
+lady. For Angela was living with him now, and she was as anxious about
+Brian as he was concerning Percival.
+
+He had been making these inquiries one day, and had turned away with his
+hand upon Angela's arm, when a burly, red-faced man, with a short, brown
+beard, whom Angela had seen once or twice before in the office,
+followed, and addressed himself to Rupert.
+
+"Beg pardon: should like to speak to you for a moment, sir, if agreeable
+to the lady," he said, touching his cap. "You were asking about the
+_Arizona_, wrecked off the Rocas Reef, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, I was," said Vivian, quickly. "Have you any news? Have any
+survivors of the crew returned?"
+
+"Can't say I know of any, save John Mason and Terry, the mate," said the
+man, shaking his head. He had a bluff, good-natured manner, which Angela
+did not dislike; but it seemed somewhat to repel her brother.
+
+"If you have no news," he began in a rather distant tone; but the man
+interrupted him with a genial laugh.
+
+"I've got no news, sir, but I've got a suggestion, if you'll allow me to
+make it. No concern of mine, of course, but I heard that you had friends
+aboard the _Arizona_, and I took an interest in that vessel because she
+came to grief at a place which has been the destruction of many a fine
+ship, and where I was once wrecked myself."
+
+"You! And how did you escape?" said Angela, eagerly.
+
+"Swam ashore, ma'am," said the man, touching his cap. Then, with a shy
+sort of smile, he added:--"What I did, others may have done, for
+certain."
+
+"You swam to the reef?" asked Vivian.
+
+"First to the reef and then to the island, sir. There's two islands
+inside the reef forming the breakwater. More than once the same thing
+has happened. Men had been there before me, and had been fetched away by
+passing ships, and men may be there now for aught we know."
+
+"Oh, Rupert!" said Angela, softly.
+
+"How long were you on the island then?" asked Rupert.
+
+"About three weeks, sir. But I have heard of the crew of a ship being
+there for as many months--and more. You have to take your chance. I was
+lucky. I'm always pretty lucky, for the matter of that."
+
+"Would it be easy to land on the island?"
+
+"There's an opening big enough for boats in the reef. It ain't a very
+easy matter to swim the distance. I was only thinking, when I heard you
+asking questions, that it was just possible that some of the crew and
+passengers might have got ashore, after all, as I did, and turn up when
+you're least expecting it. It's a chance, anyway. Good morning, sir."
+
+"Excuse me," said Vivian; "would you mind giving me your name and
+address?"
+
+The man's name was Somers: he was the captain of a small trading vessel,
+and was likely to be in London for some weeks.
+
+"But if you have anything more to ask me, sir," he said, "I shall be
+pleased to come and answer any of your inquiries at your own house, if
+you wish. It's a long tramp for you to come my way."
+
+"Thank you," said Vivian. "If it is not troubling you too much, I think
+I had better come to you. Your time is valuable, no doubt, and mine is
+not."
+
+"You'll find me in between three and five almost any time," said Captain
+Somers, and with these words they parted.
+
+Rupert fell into a brown study as soon as the captain had left them, and
+Angela did not interrupt the current of his thoughts. Presently he
+said:--
+
+"What sort of face had that man, Angela?"
+
+"A very honest face, I think," she said.
+
+"He seemed honest. But one can tell so much from a man's face that does
+not come out in his manner. This is the sort of interview that makes me
+feel what a useless log I am."
+
+"You must not think that, Rupert."
+
+"But I do think it. I wish I could find something to do--something that
+would take me out of myself and these purely personal troubles of mine.
+At my age a man certainly ought to have a career. But what am I talking
+about? No career is open to me now." And then he sighed; and she knew
+without being told that he was thinking of his dead wife and of Kitty
+Heron, as well as of his blindness.
+
+Little by little he had told her the whole story; or rather she had
+pieced it together from fragments--stray words and sentences that he let
+fall; for Rupert was never very ready to make confidences. But at
+present he was glad of her quiet sympathy; and during the past few weeks
+she had learnt more about her brother than he had ever allowed her to
+learn before. But she never alluded to what he called his "purely
+personal troubles" unless he first made a remark about them of his own
+accord; and he very seldom indulged himself by referring to them.
+
+He had not informed the Herons of a fact that was of some importance to
+him at this time. He had never been without fair means of his own; but
+it had recently happened that a distant relative died and left him a
+large fortune. He talked at first to Angela about purchasing the old
+house in Devonshire, which had been sold in the later years of his
+father's life; but during the last few weeks he had not mentioned this
+project, and she almost thought that he had given it up.
+
+One result of this accession of wealth was that he took a pleasant house
+in Kensington, where he and his sister spent their days together. He had
+a young man to act as his secretary and as a companion in expeditions
+which would have been beyond Angela's strength; and on his return from
+the docks, where he met Captain Somers, he seemed to have a good deal to
+say to this young fellow. He sent him out on an errand which took up a
+good deal of time. Angela guessed that he was making inquiries about
+Captain Somers. And she was right.
+
+Vivian went next day to the address which the sea-captain had given him;
+and he took with him his secretary, Mr. Fane. They found Captain Somers
+at home, in a neat little room for which he looked too big; a room
+furnished like the cabin of a ship, and decorated with the various
+things usually seen in a seaman's dwelling--some emu's eggs, a lump of
+brain coral, baskets of tamarind seeds, and bunches of blackened
+seaweed. There were maps and charts on the table, and to one of these
+Captain Somers directed his guest's attention.
+
+"There, sir," he said. "There's the Rocas Reef; off Pernambuco, as you
+see. That's the point where the _Arizona_ struck, I'm pretty sure of
+that."
+
+"Show it to my friend, Mr. Fane," said Vivian, gently pushing the chart
+away from him. "I can't see. I'm blind."
+
+"Lord!" ejaculated the captain. Then, after an instant of astonished
+silence, "One would never have guessed it. I'm sure I beg your pardon,
+sir."
+
+"What for?" said Vivian, smiling. "I am glad to hear that I don't look
+like a blind man. And now tell me about your shipwreck on the Rocas
+Reef."
+
+Captain Somers launched at once into his story. He gave a very graphic
+description of the island, and of the days that he had spent upon it;
+and he wound up by saying that he had known of two parties of
+shipwrecked mariners who had made their way to the place, and that, in
+his opinion, there was no reason why there should not be a third.
+
+"But, mind you, sir," he said, "it's only a strong man and a good
+swimmer that would have any chance. There wasn't one of us that escaped
+but could swim like a fish. Was your friend a good swimmer, do you
+happen to know?"
+
+"Remarkably good."
+
+"Ah, then, he had a chance; you know, after all, the chance is very
+small."
+
+"But you think," said Vivian, deliberately, "that possibly there are now
+men on that island, waiting for a ship to come and take them off?"
+
+"Well, sir," said the captain, thrusting his hands into the pockets of
+his pea-jacket, and settling himself deep into his wooden arm-chair,
+"it's just a possibility."
+
+"Do ships ever call at the island?"
+
+"They give it as wide a berth as they can, sir. Still, if it was a fine,
+clear day, and a vessel passed within reasonable distance, the
+castaways, if there were any, might make a signal. The smoke from a fire
+can be seen a good way off. Unfortunately, the reef lies low. That's
+what makes it dangerous."
+
+Vivian sat brooding over this information for some minutes. The captain
+watched him curiously, and said:--
+
+"It's only fair to remind you, sir, that even if some of the men did get
+safe to the island, there's no certainty that your friend would be
+amongst them. In fact, it's ten to one that any of them got to land; and
+it's a hundred to one that your friend is there. It would need a good
+deal of pluck, and strength, and skill, too, to save himself in that
+way, or else a deal of lack. I had the luck," said Captain Somers,
+modestly, "but I own it's unusual."
+
+"I don't know about the luck," said Vivian, "but if pluck, and strength,
+and skill could save a man under those circumstances, I think my friend
+Heron had a good chance."
+
+They had some more conversation, and then Vivian took his leave. He did
+not talk much when he reached the street, and throughout the rest of the
+day he was decidedly absent-minded and thoughtful. Angela forebore to
+question him, but she saw that something lay upon his mind, and she
+became anxious to hear what it was. Mr. Fane preserved a discreet
+silence. It was not until after dinner that Rupert seemed to awake to a
+consciousness of his unwonted silence and abstraction.
+
+The servants had withdrawn. A shaded lamp threw a circle of brilliance
+upon the table, and brought out its distinctive features with singular
+distinctness against a background of olive-green wall and velvet
+curtain. Its covering of glossy white damask, its ornaments of Venetian
+glass, the delicate yet vivid colours of the hothouse flowers and fruit
+in the dishes, the gem-like tints of the wines, the very texture and the
+hues of the Bulgarian embroidery upon the d'oyleys, formed a study in
+colour which an artist would have loved to paint. The faces and figures
+of the persons present harmonised well enough with the artistic
+surroundings. Angela's pale, spiritual loveliness was not impaired by
+the sombreness of her garments; she almost always wore black now, but it
+was black velvet, and she had a knot of violets in her bosom. Rupert's
+musing face, with its high-bred look of distinction, was turned
+thoughtfully to the fire. Arthur Fane had the sleek, fair head, straight
+features, and good-humouredly intelligent expression, characteristic of
+a very pleasant type of young Englishman. The beautiful deerhound which
+sat with its long nose on Rupert's knee, and its melancholy eyes lifted
+affectionately from time to time to Rupert's face, was a not unworthy
+addition to the group.
+
+Vivian spoke at last with a smile. "I am very unsociable to-night," he
+said, tuning his face to the place where he knew Angela sat. "I have
+been making a decision."
+
+Fane looked up sharply; Angela said "Yes?" in an inquiring tone.
+
+But Rupert did not at once mention the nature of his decision. He began
+to repeat Captain Somer's story; he told her what kind of a place the
+Rocas Reef was like; he even begged Fane to fetch an atlas from the
+study and show her the spot where the _Arizona_ had been wrecked.
+
+"You must please not mention this matter to the Herons when you are
+writing, you know, Angela," he continued, "or to Miss Murray. It is a
+mere chance--the smallest chance in the world--and it would not be fair
+to excite their hopes."
+
+"But it is a chance, is it not, Rupert?"
+
+"Yes, dear, it is a chance."
+
+"Then can nothing be done?"
+
+"I think something must be done," said he, quietly. There was a purpose
+in his tone, a hopeful light in his face, which she could not but
+remark.
+
+"What will you do, Rupert?"
+
+"I think, dear," he said, smiling, "that the easiest plan would be for
+me to go out to the Rocas Reef myself."
+
+"You, Rupert!"
+
+"Yes, I, myself. That is if Fane will go with me."
+
+"I shall be delighted," said Fane, whose grey eyes danced with pleasure
+at the idea.
+
+"You must take me, too," said Angela.
+
+It was Rupert's turn now to ejaculate. "You, Angela! My dear child, you
+are joking."
+
+"I'm not joking at all. You would be much more comfortable if I went,
+too. And I think that Aunt Alice would go with us, if we asked her. Why
+not? You want to travel, and I have nothing to keep me in England. Let
+us go together."
+
+Rupert smiled. "I want to lose no time," he said. "I must travel fast."
+
+"I am fond of travelling. And I shall be so lonely while you are away."
+
+That argument was a strong one. Rupert conceded the point. Angela should
+go with him on condition that Aunt Alice--usually known as Mrs.
+Norman--should go too. They would travel with all reasonable swiftness,
+and if--as was to be feared--their expedition should prove unsuccessful,
+they could loiter a little as they came back, and make themselves
+acquainted with various pleasant and interesting places on their way.
+They spent the rest of the evening in discussing their route.
+
+Rupert was rich enough to carry out his whim--if whim it could be
+called--in the pleasantest and speediest way. Before long he was the
+temporary owner of a fine little schooner, in which he proposed to scour
+the seas in search of his missing friend. To his great satisfaction,
+Captain Somers consented to act as his skipper: a crew of picked men was
+obtained; and the world in general received the information that Mr.
+Vivian and his sister were going on a yachting expedition for the good
+of their health, and would probably not return to England for many
+months.
+
+Rupert's spirits rose perceptibly at the prospect of the voyage. He was
+tired of inaction, and welcomed the opportunity of a complete change. He
+had not much hope of finding Percival, but he was resolved, at any rate,
+to explore the Rocas Reef, and discover any existing traces of the
+_Arizona_. "And who knows but what there may be some other poor fellows
+on that desolate reef?" he said to his secretary, Fane, who was wild
+with impatience to set off. "We can but go and see. If we are
+unsuccessful we will go round Cape Horn and up to Fiji. I always had a
+hankering after those lovely Pacific islands. If you are going down Pall
+Mall, Fane, you might step into Harrison's and order those books by Miss
+Bird and Miss Gordon Cumming--you know the ones I mean. They will make
+capital reading on board."
+
+Angela had been making some purchases in Kensington one afternoon, and
+was thinking that it was time to return home, when she came unexpectedly
+face to face with an acquaintance. It was Elizabeth Murray.
+
+Angela knew her slightly, but had always liked her. A great wave of
+sympathy rose in her heart as her eyes rested upon the face of a woman
+who had, perhaps, lost her lover, even as Angela had lost hers.
+Elizabeth's face had parted with its beautiful bloom; it was pale and
+worn, and the eyelids looked red and heavy, as though from sleepless
+nights and many tears. The two clasped hands warmly. Angela's lips
+quivered, and her eyes filled with tears, but Elizabeth's face was
+rigidly set in an enforced quietude.
+
+"I am glad I have met you," she said. "I was wondering where to find
+you. I did not know your address."
+
+"Come and see me now," said Angela, by a sudden impulse.
+
+"Thank you. I will."
+
+A few minutes' walking brought them to the old house which Rupert had
+lately taken. It was in a state of some confusion: boxes stood in the
+passages, parcels were lying about the floor. Angela coloured a little
+as she saw Elizabeth's eye fall on some of these.
+
+"We are going away," she said, hurriedly, "on a sea-voyage. The doctors
+have been recommending it to Rupert for some time."
+
+This was strictly true.
+
+"I knew you were going away," said Elizabeth, in a low tone.
+
+She was standing beside a table in the drawing-room: her left hand
+rested upon it, her eyes were fixed absently upon the muff which she
+carried in her right hand. Angela asked her to sit down. But Elizabeth
+did not seem to hear. She began to speak with a nervous tremor in her
+voice which made Angela feel nervous, too.
+
+"I have heard a strange thing," she said. "I have heard it rumoured that
+you are going to cross the Atlantic--that you mean to visit the Rocas
+Reef. Tell me, please, if it is true or not."
+
+Angela did not know what to say.
+
+"We are going to South America," she murmured, with a somewhat
+embarrassed smile. "We may pass the Rocas Reef."
+
+"Ah, speak to me frankly," said Elizabeth, putting down her muff and
+moving forward with a slight gesture of supplication. "Mr. Vivian was
+Percival's friend. Does he really mean to go and look for him? Do they
+think that some of the crew and passengers may be living upon the island
+still?"
+
+"There is just a chance," said Angela, quoting her brother. "He means to
+go and see. We did not tell you: we were afraid you might be
+too--too--hopeful."
+
+"I will not be too hopeful. I will be prudent and calm. But you must
+tell me all about it. Do you really think there is any chance? Oh, you
+are happy: you can go and see for yourself, and I can do
+nothing--nothing--nothing! And it was my doing that he went!"
+
+Her voice sank into a low moan. She clasped her hands together and wrung
+them a little beneath her cloak. Angela, looking at her with wet,
+sympathetic eyes, had a sudden inspiration. She held out her hand.
+
+"Come with us," she said, gently. "Why should you not? We will take care
+of you. What would I not have given to do something for the man I loved!
+If Mr. Heron is living, you shall help us to find him."
+
+Elizabeth's face turned white. "I cannot go with you under false
+pretences," she said. "You will think me base--wicked; you cannot think
+too ill of me--but----It was not Percival Heron whom I loved. And he
+knew it--and loved me still. You--you--have been true in your heart to
+your promised husband; but I--in my heart--was false."
+
+She covered her face and burst into passionate weeping as she spoke. But
+Angela did not hesitate.
+
+"If that is the case," she said, very softly and sweetly, "if you are
+anxious to repair any wrong that you have done to him, help us to find
+him now. You have nothing to keep you in England! My brother will say
+what I say--Come with us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+FOUND.
+
+
+"As far as I can calculate," said Percival, "this is the end of March.
+Confound it! I wish I had some tobacco."
+
+"Don't begin to wish," remarked Brian, lazily, "or you will never end."
+
+"I haven't your philosophy. I am wishing all day long--and for nothing
+so much as the sight of a sail on yonder horizon."
+
+In justice to Percival, it must be observed that he never spoke in this
+way except when alone with Brian, and very seldom even then. There had
+been a marked change in their relations to each other since the night
+when Heron had made what he called "his confession." They had never
+again mentioned the subject then discussed, but there had been a steady
+growth of friendship and confidence between them. If it was ever
+interrupted, it was only when Percival had now and then a moody fit,
+during which he would keep a sort of sullen silence. Brian respected
+these moods, and thought that he understood them. But he found in the
+end that he had been as much mistaken about their origin as Percival had
+once been mistaken in attributing motives of a mercenary kind to him.
+And when the cloud passed, Percival would be friendlier and more genial
+than ever.
+
+"Of course," said Heron, presently, "if a vessel saw our signal--and
+hove to, we should have to send out one of our ingeniously constructed
+small boats and state our case. Jackson and I would be the best men for
+the purpose, I suppose. Then they would send for the rest of you. A good
+opportunity for leaving you behind, Brian, eh?"
+
+"A hermit's life would not suit me badly," said Brian, who was lying on
+his back on a patch of sand in the shade, with a hat of cocoa-nut fibre
+tilted over his eyes. "I think I could easily let you go back without
+me."
+
+"I shall not do that, you know."
+
+"It is foolish, perhaps, to let our minds dwell on the future," said
+Brian, after a moment's pause; "but the more I think of it the more I
+wonder that your mind is so set upon dragging me back to England. You
+know that I don't want to go. You know that that business could be
+settled just as well without me as with me; better, in fact. I shall
+have to stultify myself; to repudiate my own actions; to write myself
+down an ass."
+
+"Good for you," said Percival, with an ironical smile.
+
+"Possibly; but I don't see what you gain by it."
+
+"Love of dominion, my dear fellow. I want to drag you as a captive at my
+chariot-wheels, of course. We will have a military band at the Dunmuir
+Station, and it shall play 'See the conquering hero comes.'"
+
+"Very well. I don't mind assisting at your triumph."
+
+"Hum! My triumph? Wait till that day arrives, and we shall see. What's
+that fellow making frantic signs about from that biggest palm-tree? It
+looks as if----Good Heavens, Brian, it's a sail!"
+
+He dashed the net that he had been making to the ground, and rushed off
+at the top of his speed to the place where a pile of wood and seaweed
+had been heaped to make a bonfire. Brian followed with almost equal
+swiftness. The others had already collected at the spot, and in a few
+minutes a thin, wavering line of smoke rose up into the air, and flashes
+of fire began to creep amongst the carefully-dried fuel.
+
+For a time they all watched the sail in silence. Others had been seen
+before; others had faded away into the blue distance, and left their
+hearts sick and sore. Would this one vanish like the others? Was their
+column of smoke, now rising thick and black towards the cloudless sky,
+big enough to be seen by the man on the look-out? And, if it was
+seen--what then? Why, even then, they might choose to avoid that
+perilous reef, and pass it by.
+
+"It's coming nearer," said Jackson, at last, in a loud whisper.
+
+Brian looked at Percival, then turned away and fixed his eyes once more
+upon the distant sail. There was something in Percival's face which he
+hardly cared to see. The veins on his forehead were swollen, his lips
+were nearly bitten through, his eyes were strained with that passionate
+longing for deliverance to which he seldom gave vent in words. If this
+vessel brought no succour, Brian trembled to think of the force of the
+reaction from that intense desire. For himself, Brian had little care:
+he was astonished to find how slightly the suspense of waiting told upon
+him, except for others' sake. He had no prospects: no future. But
+Percival had everything in the world that heart could wish for: home,
+happiness, success. It was natural that his impatience should have
+something in it that was fierce and bitter. If this ship failed them,
+the disappointment would almost break his heart.
+
+"They've seen us," Jackson repeated, hoarsely. "They're making for the
+island. Thank God!"
+
+"Don't be too sure," said Percival, in a harsh voice. Then, in a few
+minutes, he added:--"The boats had better be seen to. I think you are
+right."
+
+Fenwick and the boy went off immediately to the place where the two
+little boats were moored--boats which they had all laboured to
+manufacture out of driftwood and rusty iron nails. Jackson remained to
+throw fuel on the fire, and Percival, suddenly laying a hand on Brian's
+arm, led him apart and turned his back upon the glittering expanse of
+sea.
+
+"I'm as bad as a woman," he said, tightening his grasp till it seemed
+like one of steel on Brian's arm. "It turns me sick to look. Do you
+think it is coming or not!"
+
+"Of course it is coming. Don't break down at the last moment, Heron."
+
+"I'm not such a fool," said Percival, gruffly. "But--good God! think of
+the months we have gone through. I say," with a sudden and complete
+change of tone, "you're not going to back out of our arrangements, are
+you? You're coming to England with me?"
+
+"If you wish it."
+
+"I do wish it."
+
+"Very well. I will come."
+
+They clasped hands for a moment in silence and then separated. Brian
+went to the hut to collect the scanty belongings of the party: Percival
+made his way down to the boats.
+
+There was no mistake about the vessel now. She was making steadily for
+the Rocas Reef. About a mile-and-a-half from it she hove to; and a boat
+was lowered. By this time Heron and Jackson had rowed to the one gap in
+the barrier reef that surrounded the island; they met the ship's boat
+half-way between the reef and the ship itself. A young, fair,
+pleasant-looking man in the ship's boat attracted Percival's attention
+at once: he seemed to be in some position of authority, although it was
+evident that he was not one of the ship's officers. As soon as they were
+within speaking distance of each other, questions and answers were
+exchanged. Percival was struck by the brightness of the young man's face
+as he gave the information required. After a little parley, the boat
+went its way to the schooner; the officer in charge declaring with an
+odd smile that the castaways had better make known their condition to
+the captain, before returning for the others on the island. Percival was
+in no mood to demur: he and Jackson stepped into the ship's boat, and
+their own tiny craft was towed behind it as a curiosity in boatbuilding.
+
+There was a good deal of crowding at the ship's sides to look at the
+new-comers: and, as Percival sprang on board, with a sense of almost
+overpowering relief and joy at the sight of his country-men, a broad,
+red-faced man with a black beard, came up, and, as soon as he learnt his
+name, shook him heartily by the hand.
+
+"So you're Mr. Heron," he said, giving him an oddly interested and
+approving look. "Well, sir, we've come a good way for you, and I hope
+you're glad to see us. You'll find some acquaintances of yours below."
+
+"Acquaintances?" said Heron, staring.
+
+"There's one, at any rate," said the captain, pushing forward a seaman
+who was standing at his elbow, with a broad grin upon his face.
+"Remember Mason of the _Arizona_, Mr. Heron? Ah, well! if you go into
+the cabin, you'll find someone you remember better." And then the
+captain laughed, and Heron saw a smile on the faces round him, which
+confused him a little, and made him fancy that something was going
+wrong. But he had not much time for reflection. He was half-led,
+half-pushed, down the companion ladder, but in such a good-humoured,
+friendly way that he did not know how to resist; and then the
+fair-haired young man opened a door and said, "He's here, sir!" in a
+tone of triumph, which was certainly not ill bestowed. And then there
+arose some sort of confusion, and Percival heard familiar voices, and
+felt that his hand was half-shaken off, and that somebody had kissed his
+cheek.
+
+But for the moment he saw no one but Elizabeth.
+
+They had known for some little time that their quest had been
+successful, that Percival was safe. They had seen him as he rowed from
+the island, as he entered the other boat, as he set his foot upon the
+schooner; and then they had withdrawn into the cabin, so that they might
+not meet him under the inquisitive, if friendly, eyes of the captain and
+his crew. Perhaps they had hardly made enough allowance for the shock of
+surprise and joy which their appearance was certain to cause Percival.
+His illness and long residence on the island had weakened his physical
+force. In almost the first time in his life he felt a sensation of
+faintness, which made him turn pale and stagger, as he recognised the
+faces of the two persons whom he loved better than any other in the
+world--his friend and his betrothed. A thought of Brian, too, embittered
+this his first meeting with Elizabeth. Only one person noticed that
+momentary paleness and unsteadiness of step; it was natural that Angela,
+a sympathetic spectator in the background, should see more than even
+Elizabeth, whose eyes were dim with emotions which she could not have
+defined.
+
+Explanations were hurriedly given, or deferred till a future time. It
+was proposed that the whole party should go on shore, as everyone was
+anxious to see the place where Percival had spent so long a time. Even
+Rupert talked gleefully of "seeing" it. Percival had never seen his
+friend so exultant, so triumphant. And then, without knowing exactly how
+it happened, he found himself for a moment alone with Elizabeth, with
+whom he had hitherto exchanged only a hurried, word or two of greeting.
+But her hand was still in his when he turned to speak to her alone.
+
+"How beautiful you look!" he said. "If you knew what it is to me to see
+you again, Elizabeth!"
+
+But it was not pure joy that sparkled in his eyes.
+
+"Dear Percival! I am glad to see you, so glad to know that you are
+safe."
+
+"You were sorry when you heard----"
+
+"Oh," she said, "sorry is not the word. I could not forgive myself! I
+can never thank God enough that we have found you."
+
+"Yes," said he, in a low tone. "I think you are glad that I am safe. I
+don't deserve that you should be, but----Well, never mind all that.
+Won't you give me one kiss, Elizabeth, my darling?" Then, in a more
+cheerful voice, "Come and see this wretched hole in which we have passed
+the last four months. It is an interesting place."
+
+"Oh, Percival, it is just like yourself to say so!" said Elizabeth,
+smiling, but with tearful eyes. "And how pale and thin you are."
+
+"You should have seen me a couple of months ago. I was a skeleton then,"
+said Percival, as he opened the door for her. "A shell-fish diet is not
+one which I should recommend to an invalid."
+
+He was conscious of a question in her eyes which he did not mean to
+answer: he even found time to whisper a word to Jackson before they got
+into the boat. "Not a word about Luttrell," he whispered. "Say it was a
+steerage passenger who gave his name as Mackay. And don't say anything
+unless they ask you point blank." Jackson stared, but nodded an assent.
+He had a good deal of faith in Mr. Heron's wisdom.
+
+Pale and gaunt as Percival undoubtedly was, Elizabeth thought that he
+looked very like his old self, as he stood frowning and biting his
+moustache in the bows, and looking shorewards as though he were afraid
+of something that he might see. This familiar expression--something
+between anxiety and annoyance--made Elizabeth smile to herself in spite
+of her agitation. Percival was not much changed.
+
+She was sitting near him, and she longed to ask the question which was
+uppermost in her mind; but it was a difficult question to ask, seeing
+that he did not mention Brian Luttrell of his own accord. With an effort
+that made her turn pale, she bent forward at last, and said, fixing her
+eyes steadily upon him:--
+
+"What news of the _Falcon_?"
+
+He looked at her and hesitated, "Don't ask me now," he said, averting
+his face.
+
+She was silent. He heard a little sigh, and glancing at her again, saw a
+look of heart-sick resignation in her white face which told him that she
+thought Brian must be dead. He felt a pang of compunction, and a desire
+to tell her all, then he restrained himself. "She will not have to wait
+long," he thought, with a rather bitter smile.
+
+When they landed, he quietly took her hand in his, and led her a little
+apart from the others. Angela and Rupert, Mrs. Norman and Mr. Fane,
+were, however, close behind. They followed Percival's footsteps as he
+showed the way to one of the huts which the men had occupied during
+their stay on the island. When they were near it, he turned and spoke to
+Rupert and Angela. "I am obliged to be very rude," he said. "Let me go
+into the hut with Miss Murray first of all. There is something I want
+her to see--something I must say. I will come back directly."
+
+They saw that he was agitated, although he tried to speak as if nothing
+were the matter; and they drew back, respecting his emotion. As for
+Elizabeth, she waited: she could do nothing else. A little while ago she
+had said to herself that Percival was not changed: she thought
+differently now. He was changed; and yet she did not know how or why.
+
+He stopped at the door, and turned to her. He still held her hand in a
+close, warm grasp. "Don't be startled," he said, gently. "I am going to
+surprise you very much. There is a friend of mine here: remember, I say,
+a friend of mine. He was saved from the wreck of the _Falcon_--do you
+understand whom I mean?"
+
+And then he opened the door. "Brian," he said, in a voice that seemed
+strange to Elizabeth, because of its measured quietness, "come here."
+
+Elizabeth was trembling from head to foot. "Don't be afraid, child," he
+said, with more of an approach to his old tones and looks than she had
+yet heard or seen; "nobody will hurt you. Here he is--and I think I may
+fairly say that I have kept my word."
+
+Brian Luttrell had been collecting the possessions which he thought that
+his comrades might wish to take with them as mementoes of their stay
+upon the island. He sprang up quickly at the first sound of Percival's
+voice, and then stood, as if turned to stone, looking at Elizabeth. The
+healthy colour faded from his face, leaving it nearly as pale as hers;
+he set his lips, and Percival could see that he clenched his hands.
+Elizabeth did not look up at all.
+
+"Is this all the thanks I get," said Percival, in an ironical tone, "for
+introducing one cousin to another? I have taken a good deal of trouble
+for you both; I think that now you have met you might be civil to each
+other."
+
+There was a perceptible pause. Elizabeth was the first to recover
+herself. She made a step forward and put out her hand, which Brian
+instantly took in his. But neither of them spoke. Percival, with his
+back against the door, and his arms folded, observed them with a
+slightly humorous smile.
+
+"You are surprised," he said to Elizabeth, "and I don't wonder. The last
+thing you expected was to find me on good terms with Brian Luttrell, was
+it not? And we have been on fairly good terms, have we not, Luttrell?"
+
+"He saved my life twice," said Brian.
+
+"And he nursed me through a fever," interposed Percival, with a huge
+laugh, "so we are quits. Oh, we have both played our parts in a highly
+creditable manner as long as we were on a desert island; but the island
+is inhabited now, and I think it's time that we returned to the habits
+of civilised life. As a matter of fact, I consider Brian Luttrell my
+deadliest enemy."
+
+"You do nothing of the kind," said Brian, unable to repress a smile,
+although it hardly altered the look of pain that had come into his eyes.
+"Don't believe him, Miss Murray: I am glad to say that we are good
+friends."
+
+"Idyllic simplicity! Don't you know that I did but dissemble, like the
+man in the play? How can we be friends when we both----" he stopped
+short, looked at Elizabeth, and then back at Brian, and finished his
+sentence--"both want to marry the same woman?"
+
+"Heron, you are going too far. Don't make these allusions; they are
+unsuitable," said Brian.
+
+Elizabeth had winced as if she had received a blow. Percival laughed in
+their faces.
+
+"Out of taste, isn't it?" he said. "I ought to ignore the circumstances
+under which we meet, and talk as if we were in a drawing-room. I'm not
+such a fool. Look here, you two: let us talk sensibly. I have surely a
+right to demand something of you both, have I not?"
+
+"Yes, yes, indeed," they answered.
+
+"Then, for Heaven's sake, speak the truth! Here have I been chasing
+Brian half over the world, getting myself shipwrecked and thrown on
+desert islands, and what not, all because I wanted you, Elizabeth, to
+acknowledge that I was not such a mean and selfish wretch as you
+concluded me to be. Have I cleared myself? or, perhaps I should say,
+have I expiated the crime that I did commit?"
+
+"It was no crime," said Brian, warmly. "No one who knows you could think
+you capable of meanness."
+
+"I was not speaking to you, Mr. Luttrell," said Percival. "You're not in
+it at all. I am having a little conversation with my cousin. Well,
+Elizabeth, what do you say?"
+
+"I think you have been most kind and generous," she said.
+
+"Then I may retire with a good character? And, to come back to what I
+said before, as we both wish----"
+
+"You are not generous now, Heron," said Brian, quickly.
+
+"No! But I will be--sometime. You seem very anxious to repudiate all
+desire to marry my cousin. Have you changed your mind?"
+
+"Percival, I will not listen. Have you brought me here only to insult
+me?" cried Elizabeth, passionately.
+
+Percival smiled. "I am waiting for Brian Luttrell's answer," he replied,
+looking at him steadily.
+
+"I do not know what answer you expect," said Brian, "unless you want me
+to say the truth--that I loved Elizabeth Murray with all my heart and
+soul, before I knew that she had promised to be your wife; and that as I
+loved her then, I love her still. It is my misfortune--or my
+privilege--to do so; I scarcely know which. And for that reason, as you
+know, I have earnestly wished never to cross her path again, lest I
+should trouble her or distress her in any way."
+
+"Fate has been against you," said Percival, grimly. "You seem destined
+to cross her path in one way or another--and mine, too. It is time all
+this came to an end. You think I am saying disagreeable things for the
+mere pleasure of saying them; but it is not so. I will beg your pardon
+afterwards if I hurt you. What I want to say is this: I withdraw all my
+claims, if I had any, to Miss Murray's hand. I release her from any
+promise that she ever made to me. She is as free to choose as--as you
+are yourself, or as I am. We have both offered ourselves to Miss Murray
+at different times. It is for her to say which of us she prefers."
+
+There was a silence. Elizabeth's face changed from white to red, from
+red to white again. At last she looked up, and looked at Brian. He came
+to her side at once, as if he saw that she wanted help.
+
+"Percival," he said, "you are very generous in act: be generous in word
+as well. Let the matter rest. It is cruel to ask her to decide."
+
+"It seems to me that she has decided," said Percival, with a sharp,
+short laugh, "seeing that she lets you speak for her."
+
+"Oh, Percival, forgive me," murmured Elizabeth.
+
+A spasm of pain seemed to pass over his face as he turned towards her:
+then it grew strangely gentle. "My dear," he said, "I never pretended to
+be anything but a very selfish fellow; but if I can secure your
+happiness, I shall feel that I have accomplished one, at least, of the
+ends of my life. There!"--with a laugh: "I think that's well said.
+Haven't I known for months that I should be obliged to give you up to
+Luttrell in the long run? And the worst is, that I haven't the
+satisfaction of hating him through it all, because we have managed--I
+don't know how--to fight our way to a sort of friendship. Eh, Brian? And
+now I'll leave you to yourself for a few minutes, and you can settle the
+matter while you have the opportunity."
+
+He walked out of the hut before they could protest. But the smile died
+away from his lips when he had left them, and was succeeded for a few
+minutes by an expression of intense pain. He stood and looked at the
+sea; perhaps it was the dazzling reflection of the sun upon the waters
+which made his eyes so dim. After five minutes' reflection, he shrugged
+his shoulders and turned away.
+
+"There's one great consolation in returning to civilised life," he said,
+strolling up to the group of friends as they returned from a walk round
+the island. "That is--tobacco! Fate can't do much harm to the man who
+smokes." And he accepted a cigarette from Mr. Fane. "Now," he continued,
+"fortune may buffet me as she pleases; I do not care. I have not smoked
+for four months. Consequently I am as happy as a king."
+
+He smoked with evident satisfaction; but Angela thought that she
+discerned a look of trouble upon his face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+ANGELA.
+
+
+"So it was not you after all, sir," said Captain Somers, surveying Heron
+with some surprise, and then glancing towards a secluded corner, where
+Brian and Elizabeth were absorbed in an apparently very interesting
+conversation. "Well, I must have made a mistake. I didn't know anything
+about the other gentleman."
+
+"Oh, we kept him dark," returned Percival, lightly. "My cousin didn't
+want her affairs talked about. They make a nice couple, don't they?"
+
+"Ay, sir, they do. Mr. Vivian made a mistake, too, perhaps," said
+Captain Somers, with some curiosity.
+
+"We're all liable to make mistakes at times," replied Percival, smiling.
+"I don't think they've made one now, at any rate."
+
+And then he left Captain Somers, and seated himself on a chair, which
+happened to be close to the one occupied by Angela Vivian. Brian and
+Elizabeth were still within the range of his vision: although he was not
+watching them he was perfectly conscious of their movements. He saw
+Brian take Elizabeth's hand in his and raise it gently to his lips. The
+two did not know that they could be seen. Percival stifled a sigh, and
+twisted his chair round a little, so as to turn his back to them. This
+manoeuvre brought him face to face with Angela.
+
+"They look very happy and comfortable over there, don't they?" he said.
+
+"I think they will be very happy," she answered.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder." He moved restlessly in his chair, and looked
+towards the sea. "You know the story," he said. "I suppose you mean she
+will be happier with him than with me?"
+
+"She loves him," said Angela scarcely above her breath.
+
+"I suppose so," he answered, dryly. Then, after a pause--"Love is a
+mighty queer matter, it seems to me. Here have I been trying to win her
+heart for the last five years, and, just when I think I am succeeding,
+in steps a fellow whom she has never seen before, who does in a month or
+two what I failed to do in years."
+
+"They have a great deal to thank you for," said Angela.
+
+Percival shook his head.
+
+"That's a mere delusion of their generous hearts," he said. "I've been a
+selfish brute: that's all."
+
+It seemed easier to him, after this, to discuss the matter with Angela
+from every possible point of view. He told her more than he had told
+anyone in the world of the secret workings of his mind; she alone had
+any true idea of what it had cost him to give Elizabeth up. He took a
+great deal of pleasure in dissecting his own character, and it soothed
+and flattered him that she should listen with so much interest. He was
+always in a better temper when he had been talking to Angela. He did
+most of the talking--it must be owned that he liked to hear himself
+talk--and she made a perfect listener. He, in turn, amused and
+interested her very much. She had never come across a man of his type
+before. His trenchant criticisms of literature, his keen delight in
+politics, his lively argumentativeness, were charming to her. He had
+always had the knack of quarrelling with Elizabeth, even when he was
+most devoted to her; but he did not quarrel with Angela. She quieted
+him; he hardly knew how to be irritable in her presence.
+
+The story of Kitty's marriage excited his deepest ire. He was indignant
+with his sister, disgusted with Hugo Luttrell. He himself told it, with
+some rather strong expressions of anger, to Brian, who listened in
+perfect silence.
+
+"What can you say for your cousin?" said Percival, turning upon him
+fiercely. "What sort of a fellow is he? Do you consider him fit to marry
+my sister?"
+
+"No, I don't," Brian answered. "I am sorry to say so, but I don't think
+Hugo is in the least to be relied on. I have been fond of him, but----"
+
+"A screw loose somewhere, is there? I thought as much."
+
+"He may do better now that he is married," said Brian. But he felt that
+it was poor comfort.
+
+They went straight back to England, and it was curious to observe how
+naturally and continuously a certain division of the party was always
+taking place. Brian and Elizabeth were, of course, a great deal
+together; it seemed equally inevitable that Percival should pair off
+with Angela, and that Mrs. Norman, Rupert Vivian, and Mr. Fane should be
+left to entertain each other.
+
+It was on the last day of the voyage that Brian sought out Percival and
+took him by the arm. "Look here, Heron," he said. "I have never thanked
+you for what you have done for me."
+
+Percival was smoking. He took his pipe out of his mouth, and said,
+"Don't," very curtly, and then replaced the meerschaum, and puffed at it
+energetically.
+
+"But I must."
+
+"Stop," said Heron. "Don't go on till you've heard me speak." He took
+his pipe in his hand and knocked it meditatively against the bulwarks.
+"There's a great deal that might be said on both sides. Do you think
+that any of us have acted wisely or rightly throughout this business?"
+
+"I don't think I have. I think Elizabeth has."
+
+"Oh, Elizabeth. Well, she's a woman. Women have a strange sort of
+pleasure in acting properly. But I don't think that even your Elizabeth
+was quite perfect. Now, don't knock me down; she's my cousin, and I knew
+her years before you did. She's your cousin, too, by the way; but that
+does not signify. What I wanted to say was this:--We have all been more
+or less idiotic. I made a confounded fool of myself once or twice, and,
+begging your pardon, Brian, I think you did, too."
+
+"I think I did," said Brian, reflectively.
+
+"Elizabeth will take care of you now, and see that you have your due
+complement of commonsense," said Percival. "Well, look here. I've been
+wrong and I've been right at times; so have you. I have something to
+thank you for, and perhaps you feel the same sort of thing towards me. I
+think it is a pity to make a sort of profit and loss calculation as to
+which of the two has been the more wronged, or has the more need to be
+grateful. Let bygones be bygones. I want you and Elizabeth to promise me
+not to speak or think of those old days again. We can't be friends if
+you do. I was very hard on you both sometimes: and--well, you know the
+rest. If you forgive, you must also forget."
+
+Brian looked at him for a moment. "Upon my word, Percival," he said,
+warmly, "I can't imagine why she did not prefer you to me. You're quite
+the most large-hearted man I ever knew."
+
+"Oh, come, that's too strong," said Heron, carelessly. "You're a cut
+above me, you know, in every way. You will suit her admirably. As for
+me, I'm a rough, coarse sort of a fellow--a newspaper correspondent, a
+useful literary hack--that's all. I never quite understood until--until
+lately--what my position was in the eyes of the world."
+
+"Why, I thought you considered your profession a very high one," said
+Brian.
+
+"So I do. Only I'm at the bottom of the tree, and I want to be at the
+top."
+
+There was a pause. A little doubt was visible upon Brian's face:
+Percival saw it and understood.
+
+"There's one thing you needn't do," he said, with a sort of haughty
+abruptness. "Don't offer me help of any kind. I won't stand it. I don't
+want charity. If I could be glad that I was not going to marry
+Elizabeth, it would be because she is a rich woman. I wonder,
+by-the-bye, what Dino Vasari is going to do."
+
+They had not heard of Dino's death when Percival left England.
+
+"If I were you," Percival went on, "I should not stand on ceremony. I
+should get a special licence in London and marry her at once. You'll
+have a bother about settlements and provisions and compromises without
+end, if you don't."
+
+Brian smiled, and even coloured a little at the proposition. "I could
+not ask her to do it," he said.
+
+"Then I'll ask her," said Percival with his inimitable _sang-froid_. "In
+the very nick of time, here she comes. Mademoiselle, I was talking about
+you."
+
+Elizabeth smiled. The colour had come back to her cheeks, the brightness
+to her eyes. She was the incarnation of splendid health and happiness.
+Percival looked from her to Brian, remarking silently the gravity and
+nobleness of his expression and the singular refinement of his features,
+which could be seen so much more plainly, now that he had returned to
+his old fashion of wearing a moustache and small pointed beard, instead
+of the disfiguring mass of hair with which he had once striven to
+disguise his face. Percival was clean shaven, except for the heavy,
+black moustache, which he fingered as he spoke.
+
+"You are my children by adoption," he said, cheerfully, "and I am going
+to speak to you as a grandfather might. Elizabeth, my opinion is, that
+if you want to avoid vexatious delays, you had better get married to
+this gentleman here before you present yourself in Scotland at all. You
+have no idea how much it would simplify matters. Brian won't suggest
+such a thing; he is afraid you will think that he wants to make ducks
+and drakes of your money----"
+
+"His money," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Well, his or yours, or that Italian fellow's--I don't see that it
+matters much. Why don't you stop in London, get a special licence, and
+be married from Vivian's house? I know he would be delighted."
+
+"It is easy to make the suggestion," said Brian, "but perhaps Elizabeth
+would not like such haste."
+
+"I will do what you like," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Let me congratulate you," remarked Percival to Brian; "you are about to
+marry that treasure amongst wives--a woman who tries to please you and
+not herself. Well, I have broken the ice, settle the matter as you
+please."
+
+"No, Percival, don't go," said Elizabeth. But he laughed, shook his
+head, and left them to themselves.
+
+As usual he went to Angela, and allowed himself to look as gloomy as he
+chose. She asked him what was the matter.
+
+"I have been playing the heavy father, and giving away the bride," he
+said. And then he told her what he had advised.
+
+"You want to have it over," she said, looking at him with her soft,
+serious eyes.
+
+"To tell the truth, I believe I do."
+
+"It is hard on you, now."
+
+"Not a bit," said Percival, taking a seat beside her. "I ought not to
+mind. If I were Luttrell, I probably should glory in self-sacrifice, and
+say I didn't mind. Unfortunately I do. But nothing will drive me to say
+that it is hard. All's fair in love and war. Brian has proved himself
+the better man."
+
+"Not the stronger man," said Angela, almost involuntarily.
+
+"You think not? I don't think I have been strong! I have been wretchedly
+weak sometimes. Ah, there they come; they have settled it between them.
+They look bright, don't they?"
+
+Angela made no answer, she felt a little indignant with Brian and
+Elizabeth for looking bright. It was decidedly inconsiderate towards
+Percival.
+
+But Percival made no show of his wound to anybody except Angela. He
+seemed heartily glad when he heard that Elizabeth had consented to the
+speedy marriage in London, he was as cheerful in manner as usual, he
+held his head high, and ate and drank and laughed in his accustomed way.
+Even Elizabeth was deceived, and thought he was cured of his love for
+her. But the restless gleam of his eye and the dark fold between his
+brow, in spite of his merriment, told a different tale to the two who
+understood him best--Brian and Angela.
+
+The marriage took place from Rupert's house, according to Percival's
+suggestion. It was a quiet wedding, and the guests were very various in
+quality. Mr. Heron came from Scotland for the occasion, Rupert and his
+sister, Mrs. Norman, Captain Somers and the two seamen--Jackson and
+Mason, were all present. Percival alone did not come. He had said
+nothing about his intention of staying away, but sent a note of excuse
+at the last moment. He had resumed his newspaper work, and a sudden call
+upon him required instant attention. Elizabeth was deeply disappointed.
+She had looked upon his presence at her wedding as the last assurance of
+his forgiveness, and she and Brian both felt that something was lacking
+from their felicity when Percival did not come.
+
+They started for Scotland as soon as the wedding was over, and it was
+not until the following week that Brian received a bulky letter which
+had been waiting for him at the place where he had directed Dino Vasari
+to address his letters. He opened it eagerly, expecting to find a long
+letter from Dino himself. He took out only the announcement of his
+death.
+
+There was, however, a very lengthy document from Padre Cristoforo, which
+Brian and Elizabeth read with burning hearts and tearful or indignant
+eyes. In this letter, Padre Cristoforo set forth, calmly and
+dispassionately, what he knew of poor Dino's story, and there were many
+things in it which Brian learnt now for the first time. But the Prior
+said nothing about Elizabeth. When Brian had read the letter, he leaned
+over the table, and took his wife's hand as he spoke.
+
+"Did you ever see him?" he asked.
+
+"I saw a young man with Mr. Colquhoun on the day when he came to
+Netherglen. But I hardly remember his face."
+
+"You would have loved him?"
+
+"Yes," she said, "for your sake."
+
+"And now, what shall we do? Now we are on our guard against Hugo. To
+think that any man should be so vile!"
+
+"Our poor little Kitty!" murmured Elizabeth. "Surely she has found out
+her mistake. I could never understand that marriage. She looked very
+unhappy afterwards. But we were all unhappy then."
+
+"I had forgotten what happiness was like until I saw your face again,"
+said Brian.
+
+"But about Hugo, love?" she said, replying to his glance with a smile,
+which showed that for her at least the fullest earthly bliss had been
+attained. "Can we not go to Netherglen and send him away? I do not like
+to think that he is with your mother."
+
+"Nor I," said Brian. "Let us go and see."
+
+That very evening they set out for Netherglen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, Percival Heron was calling at the Vivians' house in
+Kensington. Angela, who had hitherto seen him in very rough and ready
+costume, was a little surprised when he appeared one afternoon attired
+in clothes of the most faultless cut, and looking as handsome and idle
+as if he had never done anything in his life but pay morning calls. He
+had come, perhaps by accident, perhaps by design, on the day when she
+was at home to visitors from three to six; and, although she had not
+been very long in London, her drawing-room was crowded with visitors.
+The story of the expedition to the Rocas Reef had made a sensation in
+London society; everybody was anxious to see the heroes and heroines of
+the story, and Percival soon found himself as much a centre of
+attraction as Angela herself.
+
+She watched him keenly, wondering whether he would be annoyed by the
+attention he was receiving; but his face wore a tranquil smile of
+amusement which reassured her. Once he made a movement as if to go, but
+she managed to say to him in passing:--
+
+"Do not go yet unless you are obliged. Rupert is out with Mr. Fane."
+
+"I did not come to see Rupert," said Percival, with a laugh in his
+brilliant eyes.
+
+"I have something to say to you, too," she went on seriously.
+
+"Really? Then I will wait."
+
+He had to wait some time before the room was cleared of guests. When at
+last they found themselves alone, the day was closing in, and the wood
+fire cast strange flickering lights and shadows over the walls. The room
+was full of the scent of violets and white hyacinths. Percival leaned
+back in an easy chair, with an air of luxurious enjoyment. And yet he
+was not quite as much at his ease as he looked.
+
+"You had something to say to me," he began, boldly. "I know perfectly
+well what it is. You think I ought to have come to the wedding, and you
+want to tell me so."
+
+"Your conscience seems to say more than I should venture to," said
+Angela, smiling.
+
+"I had an engagement, as I wrote in my letter."
+
+"One that could not be broken?"
+
+"To tell the truth, I was not in an amiable mood. If I had come I should
+probably have hurt their feelings more than by staying away. I should
+have said something savage. Well,"--as he saw her lips move--"what were
+you going to say?"
+
+"Something very severe."
+
+"Say it by all means."
+
+"That you are trying to excuse your own selfishness by the plea of want
+of self-control. The excuse is worse than the action itself."
+
+"I am very selfish, I know," said Percival, complacently. "I'm not at
+all ashamed of it. Why should I not consult my own comfort?"
+
+"Why should you add one drop to the bitterness of Brian's cup?"
+
+"I like that," said Percival, in an ironical tone. "It shows the extent
+of a woman's sense of justice. I beg your pardon, Miss Vivian, for
+saying so. But in my opinion Brian is a lucky fellow."
+
+"You forget----"
+
+"What do I forget? This business about his identity is all happily over,
+and he is married to the woman of his choice. I wish I had half his
+luck!"
+
+"You have forgotten, Mr. Heron," said Angela, in a tone that showed how
+deeply she was moved, "that Brian has had a great sorrow--a great loss.
+I do not think life can ever be the same to him again--as it can never
+be the same to me--since--Richard--died."
+
+Her voice sank and faltered. For an instant there was a silence, in
+which Percival felt shocked and embarrassed at his own want of thought.
+He had forgotten. He had been thinking solely of Brian's relations with
+Elizabeth. It had not occurred to him for a long time that Angela had
+once been on the point of marriage with the man--the brother--whom Brian
+Luttrell had shot dead at Netherglen.
+
+He said, "I beg your pardon," in a constrained, reluctant voice, and sat
+in silence, feeling that he ought to go, yet not liking to tear himself
+away. For the first time he was struck by the beauty of Angela's
+patience. How she must have suffered! he thought to himself, as he
+remembered her sisterly care of Brian, her silence about her own great
+loss, her quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And he had prosed by the
+hour to this woman about his own griefs and love-troubles! What an
+egotist she must think him! What a fool! Percival felt hot about the
+ears with self-contempt. He rose to go, feeling that he should not
+venture to present himself to her again very easily. He did not even
+like to say that he was ashamed of his lapse of memory.
+
+Angela rose, too. She would have spoken sooner, but she had been
+swallowing down the rising tears. She very seldom mentioned Richard
+Luttrell now.
+
+They were standing, still silent, in this attitude of expectancy--each
+thinking that the other would speak first--when the door opened, and Mr.
+Vivian came in. Percival hailed his arrival with a feeling between
+impatience and relief. Rupert wanted him to stay, but he said that he
+must go at once; business called him away.
+
+"There is a letter for you, Angela," said Vivian. "It was on the
+hall-table. Fane gave it me. I hope my sister has been scolding you for
+not coming to the wedding, Heron. It went off very well, but we wanted
+you. Have you heard the latest news from Egypt?"
+
+And then they launched into a discussion of politics, from which they
+were presently diverted by a remark made by Angela as she laid her hand
+gently on Rupert's arm.
+
+"Excuse me," she said. "I think I had better show both you and Mr. Heron
+this letter. It is from Mrs. Hugo Luttrell."
+
+"From Kitty!" said the brother. Rupert's face changed a little, but he
+did not speak. Angela handed the letter first to Percival.
+
+"Dear Miss Vivian," Kitty's letter began, "I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I want to know whether you will give a message for me to Mr. Brian
+Luttrell. Mrs. Luttrell is a little better, and is able to say one or
+two words. She calls for 'Brian' almost incessantly. I should be so glad
+if he would come, and Elizabeth too. If you know where they are, will
+you tell them so? But they must not say that I have written to you. And
+please do not answer this letter. If they cannot come, could not you? It
+is asking a great deal, I know; but Mrs. Luttrell would be happier if
+you were with her, and I should be so glad, too. I have nobody here whom
+I can trust, and I do not know what to do. I think you would help me if
+you knew all.--Yours very truly,
+
+    "Catherine Luttrell."
+
+Percival read it through aloud, then laid it down in silence. "What does
+she mean?" he said, perplexedly.
+
+"It means that there is something wrong," answered Rupert. "Are your
+people at Strathleckie now, Percival?"
+
+"No, they are in London."
+
+"Why don't you go down? You have not seen her since her marriage?"
+
+"Hum. I haven't time."
+
+"Then I will go."
+
+"And I with you," said Angela, quickly. But Rupert shook his head.
+
+"No, dear, not you. We will write for Brian and Elizabeth. And, excuse
+me, Percival, but if your sister is in any difficulty, I think it would
+be only kind if you went to her assistance."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Heron," said Angela. "Do go. Do help her if you can."
+
+And this time Percival did not refuse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+KITTY'S WARNING.
+
+
+"It's an odd thing," said Percival, with a puzzled look, "that Kitty
+won't see me."
+
+"Won't see you?" ejaculated Rupert.
+
+They had arrived at Dunmuir the previous day, and located themselves at
+the hotel. Arthur Fane had come with them, but he was at present in the
+smoking-room, and the two friends had their parlour to themselves.
+
+"Exactly. Sent word she was ill."
+
+"Through whom?"
+
+"A servant. A man whom I have seen with Luttrell several times. Stevens,
+they call him."
+
+"Did you see Hugo Luttrell?"
+
+"No. I heard his voice."
+
+"He was in the house then?"
+
+"Yes. I suppose he did not care to see me."
+
+"You are curiously unsuspicious for a man of your experience," said
+Vivian, resting his head on one hand with a sort of sigh.
+
+Percival started to his feet. "You think that it was a blind?" he cried.
+
+"No doubt of it. He does not want you to see your sister."
+
+"What for? Good Heavens! you don't mean to insinuate that he does not
+treat her well?"
+
+"No. I don't mean to insinuate anything."
+
+"Then tell me in plain English what you do mean."
+
+"I can't, Percival. I have vague suspicions, that is all."
+
+"It was a love-match," said Percival, after a moment's pause. "They
+ought to be happy together."
+
+Rupert was silent a moment; then he said, in a low voice--
+
+"I doubt whether it was a love-match exactly."
+
+"What in Heaven or earth do you mean?" said Percival, staring. "What
+else could it be?"
+
+But before Vivian could make any response, young Fane entered the room
+with the air of one who has had good news.
+
+"Mr. Colquhoun asks me to tell you that he has just had a letter from
+Mr. Brian Luttrell, sir. He is to meet Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell at the
+station at nine o'clock, but their arrival is not to be made generally
+known. Only hearing that you were here, he thought it better to let you
+know."
+
+"They could not have got Angela's letter," said Rupert. "I wonder why
+they are coming. It is very opportune."
+
+"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun.
+I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me
+something about affairs at Netherglen."
+
+He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on
+his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his
+geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.
+
+"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by
+surprise now."
+
+The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.
+
+"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the
+pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.
+
+"Thanks. That's a compliment."
+
+"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous
+one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with
+you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his
+hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and
+resumed, in an airier tone than ever.
+
+"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't
+see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says
+that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you
+always wanted me to do that, I remember."
+
+"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and
+swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in
+your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man,
+didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets
+and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your
+brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure
+childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when
+we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But
+you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."
+
+Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of
+great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad,
+but the defiant bitterness disappeared.
+
+"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course,
+I've--I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I
+don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk.
+But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."
+
+Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up
+for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering
+tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit,
+and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went
+away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a
+confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian
+had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly
+about Dunmuir till they came back.
+
+Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to
+Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance,
+although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured
+by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see
+visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to
+drive away, baffled and impatient.
+
+"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running
+close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch
+look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"
+
+"Yes, very bright."
+
+"And the sky is clear?"
+
+"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the
+north-west; we shall have rain to-night."
+
+They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating
+tone:--
+
+"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a
+little way behind us."
+
+"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she
+young?"
+
+"Very young, very slight. She is close to us now," said Fane, as he
+checked his horse.
+
+Rupert bent forward with a look of eager expectation. He heard a
+footstep on the road; surely he knew it? He knew the voice well enough
+as it spoke his name.
+
+"Mr. Vivian!"
+
+"Kitty!" he said, eagerly. Then, in a soberer tone: "I beg your pardon,
+Mrs. Luttrell, I have just been calling at Netherglen and heard that you
+were ill."
+
+"I am not ill, but I do not see visitors," said Kitty, in a constrained
+voice. "I wanted to speak to you; I saw you from the garden. I thought I
+should never make you hear."
+
+"Will you wait one moment until I get down from my high perch? Fane will
+help me; I feel rather helpless at present."
+
+"Can you turn back with me for a few minutes?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+They walked for a few steps side by side, he with his hand resting on
+her arm for the sake of guidance. The soft spring breezes played upon
+their faces; the scent of wild flowers came to their nostrils, the song
+of building birds to their ears. But they noted none of these things.
+
+Vivian stopped short at last, and spoke authoritatively.
+
+"Now, Kitty, what does this mean? Why can you not see your brother and
+me when we call upon you?"
+
+"My husband does not wish it," she said, faintly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know." Then, in a more decided tone: "He likes to thwart my
+wishes, that is all."
+
+"That was why you warned Angela not to answer your letter?"
+
+"Yes." Then, under her breath:--"I was afraid."
+
+"But, my child, what are you afraid of?"
+
+She uttered a short, stifled sob.
+
+"I can't tell you," she said.
+
+"Surely," said Rupert, "he would not hurt you?"
+
+"No," she said, "perhaps not. I do not know."
+
+There was a dreariness in her tone which went to Rupert's heart.
+
+"Take courage," he said. "Brian and Elizabeth will be in Dunmuir
+to-night. Shall they come to see you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" cried Kitty. "Let them come at once--at once, tell
+them. You will see them, will you not?" She had forgotten Rupert's
+blindness. "If they come, I shall be prevented from meeting them,
+perhaps; I know I shall not be allowed to talk to them alone. Tell Mr.
+Luttrell to come and live at Netherglen. Tell him to turn us out. I
+shall be thankful to him all my life if he turns us out. I want to go!"
+
+"You want to leave Netherglen?"
+
+"Yes, yes, as quick as possible. Tell him that Mrs. Luttrell wants
+him--that she is sorry for having been so harsh to him. I know it. I can
+see it in her eyes. I tell her everything that I hear about him, and I
+know she likes it. She is pleased that he has married Elizabeth. Tell
+him to come to-night."
+
+"To-night?" said Rupert. He began to fear that her troubles had affected
+her brain.
+
+"Yes, to-night. Remember to tell him so. To-morrow may be too late. Now,
+go, go. He may come home at any moment; and if he saw you"--she caught
+her breath with a sob--"if he saw you here, I think that he would kill
+me."
+
+"Kitty, Kitty! It cannot be so bad as this."
+
+"Indeed, it is--and worse than you know," she said, bitterly. "Now let
+me lead you back. Thank you for coming. And tell Brian--be sure you tell
+Brian to come home to-night. It is his right, nobody can keep him out.
+But not alone. Tell him not to come alone."
+
+It was with these words ringing in his ears that Rupert was driven back
+to Dunmuir.
+
+Brian and his wife arrived about nine o'clock in the evening, as they
+had said in the letter which Mr. Colquhoun had received. Vivian, wrought
+up by this time to a high pitch of excitement, did not wait five minutes
+before pouring the whole of his story into Brian's ear. Brian's eyes
+flashed, his face looked stern as he listened to Kitty's message.
+
+"The hound!" he said. "The cur! I expected almost as much. I know now
+what I never dreamt of before. He is a cowardly villain, and I will
+expose him this very night."
+
+"Remember poor Kitty," said Elizabeth.
+
+"I will spare her as much as possible, but I will not spare him. Do you
+know, Vivian, that he tried to murder Dino Vasari? There is not a
+blacker villain on the face of the earth. And to think that all this
+time my mother has been at his mercy!"
+
+"His mother!" ejaculated Mr. Colquhoun in Percival's ear, with a chuckle
+of extreme satisfaction, "I'm glad he's come back to that nomenclature.
+Blood's thicker than water; and I'll stand to it, as I always have done,
+that this Brian's the right one after all."
+
+"It's the only one there is, now," said Percival, "Vasari is dead."
+
+"Poor laddie! Well, he was just too good for this wicked world," said
+the lawyer, with great cheerfulness, "and it would be a pity to grudge
+him to another. And what are you after now, Brian?"
+
+"I'm going up to Netherglen."
+
+"Without your dinner?"
+
+"What do I care for dinner when my mother's life may be in danger?" said
+Brian.
+
+"Tut, tut! Why should it be in danger to-night of all nights in the
+year?" said Mr. Colquhoun, testily.
+
+"Why? Can you ask? Have you not told me yourself that my mother made a
+will before her illness, leaving all that she possessed to Hugo? Depend
+upon it, he is anxious to get Netherglen. When he hears that I have come
+back he will be afraid. He knows that I can expose him most thoroughly.
+He is quite capable of trying to put an end to my mother's life
+to-night. And that is what your sister meant."
+
+"Don't forget her warning. Don't go alone," said Vivian.
+
+"You'll come with me, Percival," said Brian. "And you, Fane."
+
+"If Fane and Percival go, you must let me go, too," remarked Vivian, but
+Brian shook his head, and Elizabeth interposed.
+
+"Will you stay with us, Mr. Vivian? Do not leave Mr. Colquhoun and me
+alone."
+
+"I'll not be left behind," said Mr. Colquhoun, smartly; "you may depend
+upon that, Mrs. Brian. You and Mr. Vivian must take care of my wife; but
+I shall go, because it strikes me that I shall be needed. Four of us,
+that'll fill the brougham. And we'll put the constable, Macpherson, on
+the box."
+
+"I must resign myself to be useless," said Vivian, with a smile which
+had some pain in it.
+
+"Useless, my dear fellow? We should never have been warned but for you,"
+answered Brian, giving him a warm grasp of the hand before he hurried
+off.
+
+In a very short time the carriage was ready. The gentlemen had hastily
+swallowed some refreshment, and were eager to start. Brian turned back
+for a moment to bid his wife farewell, and received a whispered caution
+with the kiss that she pressed upon his face.
+
+"Spare Kitty as much as you can, love. And take care of your dear self"
+
+Then they set out for Netherglen.
+
+The drive was almost a silent one. Each member of the party was more or
+less absorbed in his own thoughts, and Brian's face wore a look of stern
+determination which seemed to impose quietude upon the others. It was he
+who took command of the expedition, as naturally as Percival had taken
+command of the sailors upon the Rocas Reef.
+
+"We will not drive up to the house," he said, as they came in sight of
+the white gates of Netherglen. "We should only be refused admittance. I
+have told the driver where to stop."
+
+"It's a blustering night," said Mr. Colquhoun.
+
+"All the better for us," replied Brian. "We are not so likely to be
+overheard."
+
+"Why, you don't think that they would keep us out, do you, Brian, my
+lad? Hugo hasn't the right to do that, you know. He's never said me nay
+to my face as yet."
+
+"Depend upon it, he won't show," said Percival, contemptuously. "He'll
+pretend to be asleep, or away from home, or something of the sort."
+
+"I am sure that he will try to keep us out, if he can," said Brian,
+"and, therefore, I am not going to give him the chance. I think I can
+get into the house by a side door."
+
+The carriage had drawn up in the shade of some overhanging beech trees
+whilst they were speaking. The four men got out, and stood for a moment
+in the road. The night was a rough one, as Mr. Colquhoun had said; the
+wind blew in fierce but fitful gusts; the sky was covered with heavy,
+scurrying clouds.
+
+Every now and then the wind sent a great dash of rain into their faces,
+it seemed as if a tempest were preparing, and the elements were about to
+be let loose.
+
+"We are like thieves," said Heron, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't
+care for this style of work. I should walk boldly up to the door and
+give a thundering peal with the knocker."
+
+"You don't know Hugo as well as I do," responded Brian.
+
+"Thank Heaven, no. Are you armed, Fane?"
+
+"I've got a stick," said Fane, with gusto.
+
+"And I've got a revolver. Now for the fray."
+
+"We shall not want arms of that kind," said Brian. "If you are ready,
+please follow me."
+
+He led the way through the gates and down the drive, then turned off at
+right angles and pursued his way along a narrow path, across which the
+wet laurels almost touched, and had to be pushed back. They reached at
+last the side entrance of which Brian had spoken. He tried the handle,
+and gently shook the door; but it did not move. He tried it a second
+time--with no result.
+
+"Locked!" said Percival, significantly.
+
+"That does not matter," responded Brian. "Look here; but do not speak."
+
+He felt in the darkness for one of the panels of the door. Evidently he
+knew that there was some hidden spring. The panel suddenly flew back,
+leaving a space of two feet square, through which it was easy for Brian
+to insert his hand and arm, draw back a bolt, and turn the key which had
+been left in the lock. It was a door which he and Richard had known of
+old. They had kept the secret, however, to themselves; and it was
+possible that Hugo had never learned it. Even Mr. Colquhoun uttered a
+faint inarticulate murmur of surprise.
+
+The door was open before them, but they were still standing outside in
+the wet shrubbery, their feet on the damp grass, the evergreens
+trickling water in their faces, when an unexpected sound fell upon their
+ears.
+
+Somewhere, in another part of the building--probably in the front of the
+house--one of the upper windows was thrown violently open. Then a
+woman's voice, raised in shrill tones of fear or pain, rang out between
+the fitful gusts of wind and rain.
+
+"Help! Help! Help!"
+
+There was no time to lose. The four men threw caution to the winds, and
+dashed headlong into the winding passages of the dark old house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Rupert Vivian drove away from Netherglen, Kitty stood for some time
+in the lane where they had been walking, and gazed after him with
+painful, anxious interest. The dog-cart was well out of sight before she
+turned, with a heavy sigh, preparing herself to walk back to the house.
+And then, for the first time, she became aware that her husband was
+standing at some little distance from her, and was coolly watching her,
+with folded arms and an evil smile upon his face.
+
+"I have been wondering how long you meant to stand there, watching
+Vivian drive away," he said, advancing slowly to meet her. "Did you ask
+him about his wife?"
+
+Kitty thought of her conversation with Rupert at Strathleckie--a
+conversation of which she had kept Hugo in ignorance--and coloured
+vividly.
+
+"His wife is dead," she said, in a smothered tone.
+
+"Oh, then, you did ask him?" said Hugo, looking at her. "Is that what he
+came to tell you?"
+
+Kitty did not reply. She had thrown a shawl over her head before coming
+out, and she stood drawing the edges of it closer across her bosom with
+nervous, twitching fingers and averted face.
+
+"Why did you come out in that way?" queried her husband. "You look like
+a madwoman in that shawl. You looked more like one than ever when you
+ran after that dog-cart, waving your hands for Vivian to stop. He did
+not want to see you or to be forced into an interview."
+
+"Then you have been watching me?"
+
+"I always watch you. Women are such fools that they require watching.
+What did you want to speak to Vivian about?"
+
+"I will not tell you," said Kitty, suddenly growing pale.
+
+"Then it is something that you ought not to have said. I understand your
+ways by this time. Come here, close to me." She came like a frightened
+child. "Look at me, kiss me." She obeyed, after some faint show of
+reluctance. He put his arm round her and kissed her several times, on
+cheek and brow and lips. "You don't like that," he said, releasing her
+at last with a smile. "That is why I do it. You are mine now, remember,
+not Vivian's. Now tell me what you said to him."
+
+"Never!" said Kitty, with a gasp.
+
+A change passed over Hugo's face.
+
+"Who is with Vivian and your brother?" he demanded "Has Brian Luttrell
+come back?"
+
+But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm,
+and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from
+him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen
+anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to
+himself. "I must finish my work to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.
+
+
+Kitty made her way to her own room, and was not surprised to find that
+in a few moments Hugo followed her thither. She was sitting in a low
+chair, striving to command her agitated thoughts, and school herself
+into some semblance of tranquility, when he entered. She fully expected
+that he would try again to force from her the history of her interview
+with Vivian, but he did nothing of the kind. He threw himself into a
+chair opposite to her, and looked at her in silence, while she tried her
+best not to see his face at all. Those long, lustrous eyes, that low
+brow and perfectly-modelled mouth and chin, had grown hideous in her
+sight.
+
+But when he spoke he took her completely by surprise.
+
+"You had better begin to pack up your things," he said. "We shall go to
+the South of France either this week or next."
+
+"And leave Mrs. Luttrell?" breathed Kitty.
+
+His lips stretched themselves into something meant for a smile, but it
+was a very joyless smile.
+
+"And leave Mrs. Luttrell," he repeated.
+
+"But, Hugo, what will people say?"
+
+"They won't find fault," he answered. "The matter will be simple enough
+when the time comes. Pack your boxes, and leave the rest to me."
+
+"She is much better, certainly," hesitated Kitty, "but I do not like
+leaving her to servants."
+
+"She is no better," said Hugo, rising, and turning a malevolent look
+upon her. "She is worse. Don't let me hear you say again that she is
+better. She is dying."
+
+With these words he left the room. Kitty leaned back in her chair, for
+she was seized with a fit of trembling that made her unable to rise or
+speak. Something in the tone of Hugo's speech had frightened her. She
+was unreasonably suspicious, perhaps, but she had developed a great fear
+of Hugo's evil designs. He had shown her plainly enough that he had no
+principle, no conscience, no sense of shame. And she feared for Mrs.
+Luttrell.
+
+Her fears did not go very far. She thought that Hugo was capable of
+sending away the nurse, or of depriving Mrs. Luttrell of care and
+comfort to such an extent as to shorten her life. She could not suspect
+Hugo of an intention to commit actual, flagrant crime. Yet some
+undefined terror of him had made her beg Vivian to tell Brian and his
+wife to come home as soon as possible. She did not know what might
+happen. She was afraid; and at any rate she wanted to secure her husband
+against temptation. He might thank her for it afterwards, perhaps,
+though Kitty did not think that he ever would.
+
+She went upstairs after dinner to sit with Mrs. Luttrell, as she usually
+did at that hour. The poor woman was perceptibly better. The look of
+recognition in her eyes was not so painfully beseeching as it had been
+hitherto; the hand which Kitty took in hers gently returned her
+pressure. She muttered the only word that her lips seemed able to
+speak:--"Brian! Brian!"
+
+"He is coming," said Kitty, bending her head so that her lips almost
+touched the withered cheek. "He is coming--coming soon."
+
+A wonderful light of satisfaction stole into the melancholy eyes. Again
+she pressed Kitty's hand. She was content.
+
+The nurse generally returned to Mrs. Luttrell's room after her supper;
+and Kitty waited for some time, wondering why she was so long in coming.
+She rang the bell at last and enquired for her. The maid replied that
+Mrs. Samson, the nurse, had been taken ill and had gone to bed. Kitty
+then asked for the housekeeper, and the maid went away to summon her.
+
+Again Kitty waited; but no housekeeper came.
+
+She was about to ring the bell a second time, when her husband entered
+the room. "What do you want with the housekeeper at this time of night?"
+he asked, carelessly.
+
+Kitty explained. Hugo raised his eyebrows. "Oh, is that all?" he said.
+"Really, Kitty, you make too much fuss about my aunt. She will do well
+enough. I won't have poor old Shairp called up from her bed to sit here
+till morning."
+
+"But somebody must stay," said Kitty, whom her husband had drawn into
+the little dressing-room. "Mrs. Luttrell must not be left alone."
+
+"She shall not be left alone, my dear; I'll take care of that. I have
+seen Samson, hearing that she was ill, and find that it is only a fit of
+sickness, which is passing off. She will be here in half-an-hour; or, if
+not, Shairp can be called."
+
+"Then I will stay here until one of them comes," said Kitty.
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind. You will go to bed at once. It is ten
+o'clock, and I don't want you to spoil that charming complexion of yours
+by late hours." He spoke with a sort of sneer, but immediately passed
+his finger down her delicate cheek with a tenderly caressing gesture, as
+if to make up for the previous hardness of his tone. Kitty shrank away
+from him, but he only smiled and continued softly: "Those pretty eyes
+must not be dimmed by want of sleep. Go to bed, _ma belle_, and dream of
+me."
+
+"Let me stay for a little while," entreated Kitty. "If Mrs. Samson comes
+in half-an-hour I shall not be tired. Just till then, Hugo."
+
+"Not at all, my little darling." His tone was growing quite playful, and
+he even imprinted a light kiss upon her cheek as he went on. "I will
+wait here myself until Samson comes, and if she is not better I will
+summon Mrs. Shairp. Will that not satisfy you?"
+
+"Why should you stay?" said Kitty, in a whisper. A look of dread had
+come into her eyes.
+
+"Why should I not?" smiled Hugo. "Aunt Margaret likes to have me with
+her, and she is not likely to want anything just now. Run away, my fair
+Kitty. I will call you if I really need help."
+
+What did Kitty suspect? She turned white and suddenly put her arms round
+her husband's neck, bringing his beautiful dark face down to her own.
+
+"Let me stay," she murmured in his ear. "I am afraid. I don't know
+exactly what I am afraid of; but I want to stay. I can't leave her
+to-night."
+
+He put her away from him almost roughly. A sinister look crossed his
+face.
+
+"You are a little fool: you always were," he said; fiercely. Then he
+tried to regain the old smoothness of tongue which so seldom failed him;
+but this time he found it difficult. "You are nervous," he said. "You
+have been sitting in a sick-room too long: I must not let you over-tire
+yourself. You will be better when we leave Netherglen. Go and dream of
+blue skies and sunny shores: we will see my native land together, Kitty,
+and forget this desert of a place. There, go now. I will take care of
+Aunt Margaret."
+
+He put her out at the door, still with the silky, caressing manner that
+she distrusted, still with the false smile stereotyped upon his face.
+Then he went back into the dressing-room and closed the door.
+
+Kitty went to her own room, and changed her evening dress for a
+dressing-gown of soft, dark red cashmere which did not rustle as she
+moved. She was resolved against going to bed, at any rate until Hugo had
+left Mrs. Luttrell's room. She sat down and waited.
+
+The clock struck eleven. She could bear the suspense no longer. She went
+out into the passage and listened at the door of Mrs. Luttrell's room.
+Not a sound: not a movement to be heard.
+
+She stole away to the room which the nurse occupied. Mrs. Samson was
+lying on her bed, breathing heavily: she seemed to be in a sound sleep.
+Kitty shook her by the arm; but the woman only moaned and moved
+uneasily, then snored more stertorously than before. The thought crossed
+Kitty's mind that, perhaps, Hugo had not wanted Mrs. Samson to be awake.
+
+She made up her mind to go to the housekeeper's room. It was situated in
+that wing of the house which Kitty had once learnt to know only too
+well. For some reason or other Hugo had insisted lately upon the
+servants taking up their sleeping quarters in this wing; and although
+Mrs. Shairp, who had returned to Netherglen upon his marriage, protested
+that it was very inconvenient--"because no sound from the other side of
+the house could reach their ears"--(how well Kitty remembered her saying
+this!) yet even she had been obliged to give way to Hugo's will.
+
+Kitty went to the door that communicated with the wing. She turned the
+handle: it would not open. She shook it, and even knocked, but she dared
+not make much noise. It was not a door that could be fastened or
+unfastened from inside. Someone in the main part of the house,
+therefore, must necessarily have turned the key and taken it away. One
+thing was evident: the servants had been locked into their own rooms,
+and it was quite impossible for Mrs. Shairp to come to her mistress's
+room, unless the person who fastened the door came and unfastened it
+again.
+
+"I wonder that he did not lock me in," said Kitty to herself, wringing
+her little hands as she came hopelessly down the great staircase into
+the hall, and then up again to her own room. She had no doubt but that
+it was Hugo who had done this thing for some end of his own. "What does
+he mean? What is it that he does not want us to know?"
+
+She reached her own room as she asked this question of herself. The door
+resisted her hand as the door of the servants' wing had done. It was
+locked, too. Hugo--or someone else--had turned the key, thinking that
+she was safe in her own room, and wishing to keep her a prisoner until
+morning.
+
+Kitty's blood ran cold. Something was wrong: some dark intention must be
+in Hugo's mind, or he would not have planned so carefully to keep the
+household out of Mrs. Luttrell's room. She remembered that she had seen
+a light in a bed-room near Hugo's own--the room where Stevens usually
+slept. Should she rouse him and ask for his assistance? No: she knew
+that this man was a mere tool of Hugo's; she could not trust him to help
+her against her husband's will. There was nothing for it but to do what
+she could, without help from anyone. She would be brave for Mrs.
+Luttrell's sake, although she had not been brave for her own.
+
+Oh, why had she not made her warning to Vivian a little stronger? Why
+had Brian Luttrell not come home that night to Netherglen? It was too
+late to expect him now.
+
+Her heart beat fast and her hands trembled, but she went resolutely
+enough to the dressing-room from which Hugo had done his best to exclude
+her. The door was slightly ajar: oh wonderful good fortune! and the fire
+was out. The room was in darkness; and the door leading into Mrs.
+Luttrell's apartment stood open--she had a full view of its warmly
+lighted space.
+
+She remained motionless for a few minutes: then seeing her opportunity,
+she glided behind the thick curtain that screened the window. Here she
+could see the great white bed with its heavy hangings of crimson damask,
+and the head of the sick woman in its frilled cap lying on the pillows:
+she could see also her husband's face and figure, as he stood beside the
+little table on which Mrs. Luttrell's medicine bottles were usually
+kept, and she shivered at the sight.
+
+His face wore its craftiest and most sinister expression. His eyes were
+narrowed like those of a cat about to spring: the lines of his face were
+set in a look of cruel malice, which Kitty had learned to know. What was
+he doing? He had a tumbler in one hand, and a tiny phial in the other:
+he was measuring out some drops of a fluid into the glass.
+
+He set down the little bottle on the table, and held up the tumbler to
+the light. Then he took a carafe and poured a tea-spoonful of water on
+the liquid. Kitty could see the phial on the table very distinctly. It
+bore in red letters the inscription: "Poison." And again she asked
+herself: what was Hugo going to do?
+
+Breathlessly she watched. He smiled a little to himself, smelt the
+liquid, and held it once more towards the light, as if to judge with his
+narrowed eyes of the quantity required. Then, with a noiseless foot and
+watchful eye, he moved towards the bed, still holding the tumbler in his
+hand. He looked down for a moment at the pale and wrinkled face upon the
+pillow; then he spoke in a peculiarly smooth and ingratiating tone of
+voice.
+
+"Aunt Margaret," he said, "I have brought you something to make you
+sleep."
+
+He had placed the glass to her lips, when a movement in the next room
+made him start and lift his eyes. In another moment his wife's hands
+were on his arm, and her eyes were blazing into his own. The liquor in
+the glass was spilt upon the bed. Hugo turned deadly pale.
+
+"What do you mean? What do you want?" he said, with a look of mingled
+rage and terror. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"I have come to save her--from you." She was not afraid, now that the
+words were said, now that she had seen the guilty look upon his face.
+She confronted him steadily; she placed herself between him and the bed.
+Hugo uttered a low but emphatic malediction on her "meddlesome folly."
+
+"Why are you not in your room?" he said. "I locked you in."
+
+"I was not there. Thank God that I was not."
+
+"And why should you thank God?" said Hugo, who stood looking at her with
+an ugly expression of baffled cunning on his face. "I was doing no harm.
+I was giving her a sleeping-draught."
+
+"Would she ever have waked?" asked Kitty, in a whisper.
+
+She looked into her husband's eyes as she spoke, and she knew from that
+moment that the accusation was based on no idle fancy of her own. In
+heart, at least, he was a murderer.
+
+But the question called forth his worst passions. He cursed her
+again--bitterly, blasphemously--then raised his hand and struck her with
+his closed fist between the eyes. He knew what he was doing: she fell to
+the ground, stunned and bleeding. He thrust her out of his way; she lay
+on the floor between the bed and the window, moaning a little, but for a
+time utterly unconscious of all that went on around her.
+
+Hugo's preparations had been spoilt. He was obliged to begin them over
+again. But this time his nerve was shaken: he blundered a little once or
+twice. Kitty's low moan was in his ears: the paralysed woman upon the
+bed was regarding him with a look of frozen horror in her wide-open
+eyes. She could not move: she could not speak, but she could understand.
+
+He turned his back upon the two, and measured out the drops once more
+into the glass. His hand shook as he did so. He was longer about his
+work than he had been before. So long that Kitty came to herself a
+little, and watched him with a horrible fascination. First the drops:
+then the water; then the sleeping-draught, from which the sleeper was
+not to awake, would be ready.
+
+Kitty did not know how she found strength or courage to do at that
+moment what she did. It seemed to her that fear, sickness, pain, all
+passed away, and left her only the determination to make one desperate
+effort to defeat her husband's ends.
+
+She knew that the window by which she lay was unshuttered. She rose from
+the ground, she reached the window-sill and threw up the sash, almost
+before Hugo knew what she was doing. Then she sent forth that terrible,
+agonised cry for help, which reached the ears of the four men who were
+even at that moment waiting and listening at the garden door.
+
+Hugo dropped the glass. It was shivered to pieces on the floor, and its
+contents stained the rug on which it fell. He strode to the window and
+stopped his wife's mouth with his hands, then dragged her away from it,
+and spoke some bitter furious words.
+
+"Do you want to hang me?" he said. "Keep quiet, or I'll make you repent
+your night's work----"
+
+And then he paused. He had heard the sound of opening doors, of heavy
+steps and strange voices upon the stairs. He turned hastily to the
+dressing-room, and he was confronted on the threshold by the determined
+face and flashing eyes of his cousin, Brian Luttrell. He cast a hurried
+glance beyond and around him; but he saw no help at hand. Kitty had sunk
+fainting to the ground: there were other faces--severe and menacing
+enough--behind Brian's: he felt that he was caught like a wild beast in
+a trap. His only course was to brazen out the matter as best he could;
+and this, in the face of Brian Luttrell, of Percival Heron, of old Mr.
+Colquhoun, it was hard to do. In spite of himself his face turned pale,
+and his knees shook as he spoke in a hoarse and grating tone.
+
+"What does this disturbance mean?" he said. "Why do you come rushing
+into Mrs. Luttrell's room at this hour of the night?"
+
+"Because," said Brian, taking him by the shoulder, "your wife has called
+for help, and we believe that she needs it. Because we know that you are
+one of the greatest scoundrels that ever trod the face of the earth.
+Because we are going to bring you to justice. That is why!"
+
+"These are very fine accusations," said Hugo, with a pale sneer, "but I
+think you will find a difficulty in proving them, Mr.--Vasari."
+
+"I shall have at least no difficulty in proving that you stole money and
+forged my brother's name three years ago," said Brian, in a voice that
+was terrible in its icy scorn. "I shall have no difficulty in proving to
+the world's satisfaction that you shamefully cheated Dino Vasari, and
+that you twice--yes, twice--tried to murder him, in order to gain your
+own ends. Hugo Luttrell, you are a coward, a thief, a would-be murderer;
+and unless you can prove that you were in my mother's room with no evil
+intent (which I believe to be impossible) you shall be branded with all
+these names in the world's face."
+
+"There is no proof--there is no legal proof," cried Hugo, boldly. But
+his lips were white.
+
+"But there is plenty of moral proof, young man," said Mr. Colquhoun's
+dry voice. "Quite enough to blast your reputation. And what does this
+empty bottle mean and this broken glass? Perhaps your wife can tell us
+that."
+
+There was a momentary silence. Mr. Colquhoun held up the little bottle,
+and pointed with raised eyebrows to the label upon it. Heron was
+supporting his sister in his arms and trying to revive her: Fane and the
+impassive constable barred the way between Hugo and the door.
+
+In that pause, a strange, choked sound came from the bed. For the first
+time for many months Mrs. Luttrell had slightly raised her hand. She
+said the name that had been upon her lips so many times during the last
+few weeks, and her eyes were fixed upon the man whom for a lifetime she
+had called her son.
+
+"Brian!" she said, "Brian!"
+
+And he, suddenly turning pale, relaxed his hold upon Hugo's arm and
+walked to the bed-side. "Mother," he said, leaning over her, "did you
+call me? Did you speak to me?"
+
+She looked at him with wistful eyes: her nerveless fingers tried to
+press his hand. "Brian," she murmured. Then, with a great spasmodic
+effort: "My son!"
+
+The attention of the others had been concentrated upon this little
+scene; and for the moment both Fane and Mr. Colquhoun drew nearer to the
+bed, leaving the door of Mrs. Luttrell's bed-room unguarded. The
+constable was standing in the dressing-room. It was then that Hugo saw
+his chance, although it was one which a sane man would scarcely have
+thought of taking. He made a rush for the bed-room door.
+
+Whither should he go? The front door was bolted and barred; but he
+supposed that the back door would be open. He never thought of the
+entrance to the garden by which Brian Luttrell had got into the house.
+He dashed down the staircase; he was nimbler and lighter-footed than
+Fane, who was immediately behind him, and he knew the tortuous ways and
+winding passages of the house, as Fane did not. He gained on his
+pursuer. Down the dark stone passages he fled: the door into the back
+premises stood wide open. There was a flight of steep stone steps, which
+led straight to a kitchen and thence into the yard. He would have time
+to unbolt the kitchen door, even if it were not already open, for Fane
+was far, far behind.
+
+But there was no light, and there was a sudden turn in the steps which
+he had forgotten. Fane reached the head of the staircase in time to hear
+a cry, a heavy crashing fall, a groan. Then all was still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A LAST CONFESSION.
+
+
+They carried him upstairs again, handling him gently, and trying to
+discover the extent of his injuries; but they did not guess--until, in
+the earliest hours of the day, a doctor came from Dunmuir to
+Netherglen--that Hugo Luttrell's hours on earth were numbered. He had
+broken his back, and although he might linger in agony for a short time,
+the inevitable end was near. As the dawn came creeping into the room in
+which he lay, he opened his eyes, and the watchers saw that he shuddered
+as he looked round.
+
+"Why have they brought me here?" he said.
+
+No one knew why. It was the nearest and most convenient room for the
+purpose. Brian had not been by to interpose, or he might have chosen
+another place. For it was the room to which Richard Luttrell had been
+carried when they brought him back to Netherglen.
+
+Kitty was beside him, and, with her, Elizabeth, who had come from
+Dunmuir on hearing of the accident. These two women, knowing as they did
+the many evil deeds which he had committed, did not refuse him their
+gentle ministry. When they saw the pain that he suffered, their hearts
+bled for him. They could, not love him: they could not forgive him for
+all that he had done; but they pitied him. And most of all they pitied
+him when they knew that the fiat had gone forth that he must die.
+
+He knew it, too. He knew it from their faces: he had no need to ask. The
+hopelessness upon his face, the pathetic look of suffering in his eyes,
+touched even Kitty's heart. She asked him once if she could do anything
+to help him. They were alone together, and the answer was as unexpected
+as it was brief: "I want Angela."
+
+They telegraphed for her, although they hardly thought that she would
+reach the house before he died. But the fact that she was coming seemed
+to buoy him up: he lingered throughout the day, turning his eyes from
+time to time to the clock upon the mantelpiece, or towards the opening
+door. At night he grew restless and uneasy: he murmured piteously that
+she would not come, or that he should die before she came.
+
+Brian, although in the house, held aloof from the injured man's room.
+Merciful as he was by nature, Hugo's offences had transcended the bounds
+even of his tolerance; and his anger was more implacable than that of a
+harsher man. Although he had been told that Hugo was dying, he found it
+hard to be pitiful. He knew more than Hugo imagined. Mrs. Luttrell had
+recovered speech sufficiently to tell her son the history of the
+previous night, and Brian was certain that Kitty's cry for help had come
+only just in time.
+
+It was early in the evening when Hugo spoke, almost for the first time
+of his own accord, to his wife. "Kitty," he said, imperiously, "come
+here."
+
+She came, trembling a little, and stood beside him, scarcely bearing to
+meet the gaze of those darkly-burning eyes.
+
+"Kitty," he said, looking at her strangely, "I suppose you hate me."
+
+"No," she answered. "No, indeed, Hugo."
+
+"Is that mark on your forehead from the blow I gave you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I did not mean to hurt you," he said, "but I think I was mad just then.
+However, it doesn't matter; I am going to die, and you can be happy in
+your own way. I suppose you will marry Vivian?"
+
+"Don't talk so, Hugo," she said, laying her hand upon his brow.
+
+"Why not? I do not care. Better to die than lie here--here, where
+Richard Luttrell lay. Kitty, they say I cannot be moved while I live;
+but if--if you believe that I ever loved you, see that they carry me out
+of this room as soon as I am dead. Promise me that."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"That is all I want. Marry Vivian, and forget me as soon as you please.
+He will never love you as much as I did, Kitty. If I had lived, you
+would have loved me, too, in time. But it's no use now."
+
+The voice was faint, but sullen. Kitty's heart yearned over him.
+
+"Oh, Hugo," she said, "won't you think of other things? Ask God to
+forgive you for what you have done: He will forgive you if you repent:
+He will, indeed."
+
+"Don't talk to me of forgiveness," said Hugo, closing his eyes. "No one
+forgives: God least of all."
+
+"We forgive you, Hugo," said Kitty, with brimming eyes, "and is God less
+merciful than ourselves?"
+
+"I will wait till Angela comes," he answered. "I will listen to her. To
+nobody but her."
+
+And then he relapsed into a half-conscious state, from which she dared
+not arouse him.
+
+Angela came at night; and she was led almost instantly to the room in
+which he lay. He opened his eyes as soon as she entered, and fixed them
+eagerly upon her.
+
+"So you have come," he said. There was a touch of satisfaction in his
+tone. She knelt down beside him and took his hand. "Talk to me," he
+murmured.
+
+Kitty and Brian, who had entered with Angela, marvelled at the request.
+They marvelled more when she complied with it in a curiously undoubting
+way. It seemed as if she understood his needs, his peculiarities, even
+his sins, exactly. She spoke of the holiest things in a simple, direct
+way, which evidently appealed to something within him; for, though he
+did not respond, he lay with his eyes fixed upon her face, and gave no
+sign of discontent.
+
+At last he sighed, and bade her stop.
+
+"It's all wrong," he said, wearily. "I had forgotten. I ought to have a
+priest."
+
+"There is one waiting downstairs," said Brian.
+
+Hugo started at the voice.
+
+"So you are there?" he said. "Oh, it's no use. No priest would absolve
+me until--until----"
+
+"Yes: until what?" said Angela. But he made no answer.
+
+Presently, however, he pressed her hand, and murmured:--
+
+"You were always good to me."
+
+"Dear Hugo!"
+
+"And I loved you--a little--not in the way I loved Kitty--but as a
+saint--an angel. Do you think you could forgive me if I had wronged
+you!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I believe so."
+
+"If you forgive me, I shall think that there is some hope. But I don't
+know. Brian is there still, is he not? I have something to say to him."
+
+Brian came forward, a little reluctantly. Hugo looked at him with those
+melancholy, sunken eyes, in which a sort of fire seemed to smoulder
+still.
+
+"Brian will never forgive me," he said.
+
+"Yes, Hugo, he will," said Angela.
+
+Brian gave an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or dissent they
+could not tell. But he did not look at Hugo's face.
+
+"I know," said Hugo. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. I was justified
+in what I did."
+
+"You hear," said Brian to Angela, in a very low voice.
+
+But Hugo went on without noticing.
+
+"Justified--except in one thing. And I want to tell you about that."
+
+"You need not," said Brian, quietly. "If it is anything fresh, I do not
+wish to hear."
+
+"Brian," said Angela, "you are hard."
+
+"No, he is not too hard," Hugo interposed, in a dreamy voice, more as if
+he were talking to himself than to them. "He was always good to me: he
+did more for me than anybody else. More than Richard. I always hated
+Richard. I wished that he was dead." He stopped, and then resumed, with
+a firmer intonation. "Is Mr. Colquhoun in the house? Fetch him here, and
+Vivian too, if he is at hand. I have something to say to them."
+
+They did his bidding, and presently the persons for whom he asked stood
+at his bed-side.
+
+"Are they all here? My eyes are getting dim; it is time I spoke," said
+Hugo, feebly. "Mr. Colquhoun, I shall want you to take down what I say.
+You may make it as public as you like. Angela----"
+
+He felt for her hand. She gave it to him, and let him lean upon her
+shoulder as he spoke. He looked up in her eyes with a sort of smile.
+
+"Kiss me, Angela," he said, "for the last time. You will never do it
+again.... Are you all listening? I wish you and everyone to know that it
+was I--I--who shot Richard Luttrell in the wood; not Brian. We fired at
+the same moment. It was not Brian; do you hear?"
+
+There was a dead silence. Then Brian staggered as if he would have
+fallen, and caught at Percival's arm. But the weakness was only for a
+moment. He said, simply, "I thank God," and stood erect again. Mr.
+Colquhoun put on his spectacles and stared at him. Angela, pale to the
+lips, did not move; Hugo's head was still resting against her shoulder.
+It was Brian's voice that broke the silence, and there was pity and
+kindliness in its tone.
+
+"Never mind, Hugo," he said, bending over him. "It was an accident; it
+might have been done by either of us. God knows I sorrowed bitterly when
+I thought my hand had done it; perhaps you have sorrowed, too. At any
+rate, you are trying to make amends, and if I have anything personally
+to forgive----"
+
+"Wait," said Hugo, in his feeble yet imperious voice, with long pauses
+between the brief, broken sentences. "You do not understand. I did it on
+purpose. I meant to kill him. He had struck me, and I meant to be
+revenged. I thought I should suffer for it--and I did not care.... I did
+not mean Brian to be blamed; but I dared not tell the truth.... Put me
+down, Angela; I killed him, do you hear?"
+
+But she did not move.
+
+"Did you wish me to write this statement?" said Mr. Colquhoun, in his
+dryest manner. "If so, I have done it."
+
+"Give me the pen," said Hugo, when he had heard what had been written.
+
+He took it between his feeble fingers. He could scarcely write; but he
+managed to scrawl his name at the bottom of the paper on which his
+confession was recorded, and two of the persons present signed their
+names as witnesses.
+
+"Tell Mrs. Luttrell," said Hugo, very faintly, when this was over. Then
+he lay back, closed his eyes, and remained for some time without
+speaking.
+
+"I have something else to tell," he said, at last. "Kitty--you know, she
+married me ... but it was against her own will. She did not elope with
+me. I carried her off.... She will explain it all now. Do you hear,
+Kitty? Tell anything you like. It will not hurt me. You never loved me,
+and you never would have done. But nobody will ever love you as I did;
+remember that. And I think that's all."
+
+"Have you nothing to say," asked Mr. Colquhoun in very solemn tones,
+"about your conduct to Dino Vasari and Mrs. Luttrell?"
+
+"Nothing to you."
+
+"But everything to God," murmured Angela. He raised his eyes to her face
+and did not speak. "Pray for His forgiveness, Hugo, and He will grant
+it. Even if your sins are as scarlet they shall be as white as snow."
+
+"I want your forgiveness," he whispered, "and nothing more."
+
+"I will give you mine," she said, and the tears fell from her eyes as
+she spoke; "and Brian will give you his: yes, Brian, yes. As we hope
+ourselves to be forgiven, Hugo, we forgive you; and we will pray with
+you for God's forgiveness, too."
+
+She had taken Brian's hand and laid it upon Hugo's, and for a moment the
+three hands rested together in one strangely loving clasp. And then Hugo
+whispered, "Pray for me if you like: I--I dare not pray."
+
+And, forgetful of any human presence but that of this sick, sinful soul
+about to come before its Maker, Angela prayed aloud.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He died in the early dawn, with his hand still clasped in hers. The
+short madness of his love for Kitty seemed to have faded from his
+memory. Perhaps all earthly things had grown rather faint to him:
+certain it was that his attempt on the lives of Dino and of Mrs.
+Luttrell did not seem to weigh very heavily on his conscience. It was
+the thought of Richard Luttrell that haunted him more than all beside.
+It was with a long, shuddering moan of fear--and, as Angela hoped (but
+only faintly hoped), of penitence--that his soul went out into the
+darkness of eternity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With Hugo Luttrell's death, the troubles of the family at Netherglen
+seemed to disappear. Old Mrs. Luttrell's powers of speech remained with
+her, although she could not use her limbs; and the hardness and
+stubbornness of her character had undergone a marvellous change. She
+wept when she heard of Dino's death; but her affection for Brian, and
+also for Elizabeth, proved to be strong and unwavering. Her great
+desire--that the properties of Netherglen and Strathleckie should be
+united--was realised in a way of which she had never dreamt. Brian
+himself believed firmly that he was of Italian parentage and that Dino
+Vasari was the veritable heir of the Luttrells; but the notion was now
+so painful to Mrs. Luttrell, that he never spoke of it, and agreed, as
+he said to Elizabeth, to be recognised as the master of Netherglen and
+Strathleckie under false pretences. "For the whole estate, to tell the
+truth, is yours, not mine," he said. And she: "What does that matter,
+since we are man and wife! There is no 'mine and thine' in the case. It
+is all yours and all mine; for we are one."
+
+In fact, no words were more applicable to Brian and Elizabeth than the
+quaint lines of the old poet:
+
+    "They were so one, it never could be said
+    Which of them ruled and which of them obeyed.
+    He ruled because she would obey; and she,
+    By her obeying, ruled as well as he.
+    There ne'er was known between them a dispute
+    Save which the other's will should execute."
+
+The Herons returned to London shortly after Elizabeth's marriage, and
+with them Kitty returned, too. But it was a very different Kitty from
+the one who had frolicked at Strathleckie, or pined at Netherglen. The
+widowed Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was a gentler, perhaps a sadder, woman than
+Kitty Heron had promised to be: but she was a sweeter woman, and one who
+formed the chief support and comfort to her father's large and irregular
+household, as it passed from its home in Scotland to a more permanent
+abode in Kensington. For the house in Gower-street, dear as it was to
+Kitty's heart, was not the one which Mr. and Mrs. Heron preferred to any
+other.
+
+Little Jack, now slowly recovering from his affection of the spine,
+found in Kitty the motherliness which he had sorely missed when
+Elizabeth first went away. His affection was very sweet to Kitty. She
+had never hitherto been more than a playmate to her step-brothers: she
+was destined henceforward to be their chief counsellor and friend. And
+the little baby-sister was almost as a child of her own to Kitty's
+heart.
+
+It was not until more than a year of quiet life in her father's home had
+passed away that she saw much of Rupert Vivian. She was very shy and
+silent with him when he began to seek her out again. He thought her a
+little cold, and fancied that a blind man could find no favour in her
+eyes. It was Angela--that universal peacemaker--who at last set matters
+straight between the two.
+
+"Kitty," she said, one day when Kitty was calling upon her, "why are you
+so distant and unfriendly to my brother?"
+
+"I did not mean to be," said Kitty, with rising colour.
+
+"But, indeed, you are. And he thinks--he thinks--that he has offended
+you."
+
+"Oh, no! How could he!" ejaculated Kitty. Whereat Angela smiled. "You
+must tell him not to think any such thing, Angela, please."
+
+"You must tell him yourself. He might not believe me," said Angela.
+
+Kitty was very simple in some things still. She took Angela's advice
+literally.
+
+"Shall I tell him now--to-day?" she said, seriously.
+
+"Yes, now, to-day," said Angela. "You will find him in the library."
+
+"But he will think it so strange if I go to him there."
+
+"Not at all. I would not send you to him if I did not know what he would
+feel. Kitty, he is not happy. Can you not make him a little happier?"
+
+And then Angela, who had meanwhile led her guest to the library door,
+opened it and made her enter, almost against her will. She stood for a
+moment inside the door, doubting whether to go or stay. Then she looked
+at Rupert, and decided that she would stay.
+
+He was alone. He was leaning his head on one hand in an attitude of
+listlessness, which showed that he was out of spirits.
+
+"Is that you, Angela?" he said.
+
+"No," said Kitty, softly. "It's not Angela: it's me."
+
+She was very ungrammatical, but her tone was sweet, and Rupert smiled.
+His face looked as if the sunshine had fallen on it.
+
+"Me, is it?" he said, half-rising. Then, more gravely--"I am very glad
+to see you--no, not to see you: that's not it, is it?--to have you
+here."
+
+"Are you?" said Kitty.
+
+There were tears in her voice.
+
+"Am I not?" He was holding her hand now, and she did not draw it away
+even when he raised it, somewhat hesitatingly, to his lips. He went on
+in a very low voice:--"It would make the happiness of my life to have
+you always with me. But I must not hope for that."
+
+"Why not?" said Kitty, giving him both hands instead of one; "when it
+would make mine, too."
+
+And after that there was no more to be said.
+
+"Tell me," she whispered, a little later, "am I at all now like the
+little girl in Gower-street that you used to know?"
+
+"Not a bit," he answered, kissing her. "You are dearer, sweeter,
+lovelier than any little girl in Gower-street or anywhere else in the
+whole wide world."
+
+"And you forgive me for my foolishness?"
+
+"My darling," he said, "your foolishness was nothing to my own. And if
+you can bear to tie yourself to a blind man, so many years older than
+yourself, who has proved himself the most arrogant and conceited fool
+alive----"
+
+"Hush!" said Kitty. "I shall not allow you to speak in that way--of the
+man I love."
+
+"Kiss me, then, for the first time in your life, Kitty, and I will say
+no more."
+
+And so they married and went down to Vivian Court in Devonshire, where
+they live and flourish still, the happiest of the happy. Never more
+happy than when Brian and Elizabeth came to spend a week with them,
+bringing a pair of sturdy boys--Bernard and Richard they are called--to
+play with Kitty's little girl upon the velvet lawns and stately terraces
+of Vivian Court. Kitty is already making plans for the future union of
+Bernard Luttrell and her own little Angela; but her husband shakes his
+head, and laughingly tells her that planned marriages never come to
+good.
+
+"I thought all marriages had to be planned," says Kitty, innocently.
+
+"Mine was not."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that I was led into it--quite against my will, madam--by a
+tricksy, wilful sprite, who would have her own way----"
+
+"Say that you have not repented it, Rupert," she whispers, looking up at
+him with the fond, sorrowful eyes that he cannot see.
+
+"My own love," he answers, taking her in his arms and kissing her, "you
+make the sunshine of my life; and as long as you are near me I am
+thoroughly and unspeakably content."
+
+Kitty knows that it is true, although she weeps sometimes in secret at
+the thought that he will never look upon his little daughter's face. But
+everyone says that the tiny Angela is the image of Kitty herself as a
+child; and, therefore, when the mother wishes to describe the winning
+face and dancing eyes, she tells Rupert that he has only to picture to
+himself once more--"the little girl that he used to know in Gower
+Street."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+"THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."
+
+
+And what of Angela Vivian, the elder? Angela, whose heart was said to be
+buried in a grave?
+
+After Hugo Luttrell's death, she remained for some time at Netherglen,
+sitting a great deal in Mrs. Luttrell's room and trying to resume the
+daughter-like ways which had grown so natural to her. But she was driven
+slowly to perceive that she was by no means necessary to Mrs. Luttrell's
+happiness. Mrs. Luttrell loved her still, but her heart had gone out
+vehemently to Brian and Elizabeth; and when either of them was within
+call she wanted nothing else. Brian and Elizabeth would gladly have kept
+Angela with them for evermore, but it seemed to her that her duty lay
+now rather with her brother than with those who were, after all, of no
+kith or kin to her. She returned, therefore, to Rupert's house in
+Kensington, and lived there until his marriage took place.
+
+She was sorry for one thing--that the friendship between herself and
+Percival Heron seemed to be broken. The words which she had spoken to
+him before Hugo's death had evidently made a very strong impression upon
+Percival's mind. He looked guilty and uncomfortable when he spoke to
+her; his manner became unusually abrupt, and at last she noticed that,
+if she happened to come into a room which he occupied, he immediately
+made an excuse for leaving it. She had very few opportunities of seeing
+him at all; but every time she met him, his avoidance of her became so
+marked that she was hurt and grieved by it. But she could not do
+anything to mend matters; and so she waited and was silent.
+
+She heard, on her return to Kensington, that he had been a great deal to
+her brother's house, and had done much for Rupert's comfort. But as soon
+as he knew that she intended to stay in London he began to discontinue
+his visits. It was very evident that he had determined to see as little
+of her as possible. And, by-and-bye, he never came at all. For full
+three months before Kitty's engagement to Rupert Percival did not appear
+at the pleasant house in Kensington.
+
+Angela was sitting alone, however, one day when he was announced. He
+came in, glanced round with a vexed and irritated air, and made some
+sort of apology.
+
+"I came to see Rupert. I thought that you were away," he said.
+
+"And, therefore, you came?" she said, with a little smile. "It was very
+good of you to come when you thought he would be lonely."
+
+"I did not mean that exactly."
+
+"No? I wish you would come to see him a little oftener, Mr. Heron; he
+misses your visits very much."
+
+"He won't miss them long, he will soon get used to doing without me."
+
+"But why should he?"
+
+"Because I am going away."
+
+"Where are you going?" said Angela, turning to look at him.
+
+"To California," he answered grimly.
+
+She paused for a moment, and then said in a tranquil tone, "Oh, no."
+
+"No? Why not?" said Percival, smiling a little in spite of himself.
+
+"I think that if you go you will be back again in six months."
+
+"Ah? You think I have no constancy in me; no resolution; no manliness."
+
+"Indeed, I think nothing so dreadful. But California is not the place
+where I can imagine a man of your tastes being happy. Were you so very
+happy on the Rocas Reef?"
+
+"That has nothing to do with it. I should have been happy if I had had
+enough to do. I want some active work."
+
+"Can you not find that in England?"
+
+"I daresay I might. I hate England. I have nothing to keep me in
+England."
+
+"But what has happened?" asked Angela. "You did not talk in this way
+when you came from the Rocas Reef."
+
+"Because I did not know what a fool I could make of myself."
+
+She glanced at him with a faint, sweet smile. "You alarm me, Mr. Heron,"
+she said, very tranquilly. "What have you been doing?"
+
+Percival started up from the low seat in which he had placed himself,
+walked to the window, and then came back to her side and looked at her.
+He was standing in one of his most defiant attitudes, with his hands
+thrust into his pockets, and a deep dent on his brow.
+
+"I will tell you what I have been doing," he said, in a curiously dogged
+tone. "I'll give you my history for the last year or two. It isn't a
+creditable one. Will you listen to it or not?"
+
+"I will listen to it," said Angela.
+
+She looked at him with serene, meditative eyes, which calmed him almost
+against his will as he proceeded.
+
+"I'll tell you, then," he said. "I nearly wrecked three lives through my
+own selfish obstinacy. I almost broke a woman's heart and sacrificed my
+honour----"
+
+"Almost? Nearly?" said Angela, gently. "That is possible, but you saw
+your mistake in time. You drew back; you did not do these things."
+
+"I'll tell you what I did do!" he exclaimed. "I whined to you, until I
+loathe myself, about a woman who never cared a straw for me. Do you call
+that manly?"
+
+"I call it very natural," said Angela.
+
+"And after all----"
+
+"Yes, after all?" He hesitated so long that she looked up into his face
+and gently repeated the words "After all?"
+
+"After all," he went on at last, with a sort of groan, "I love--someone
+else."
+
+They were both silent. He threw himself into a chair, and looked at her
+expectantly.
+
+"Don't you despise me?" he said, presently.
+
+"Why should I, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"Why? Because you are so constant, so changeless, that you cannot be
+expected to sympathise with a man who loves a second time," cried
+Percival, in an exasperated tone. "And yet this love is as sunlight to
+candlelight, as wine to water! But you will never understand that, you,
+with your heart given to one man--buried in a grave."
+
+He stopped short; she had half-risen, and made a gesture as if she would
+have bidden him be silent.
+
+"There!" he said, vehemently. "I am doing it again. I am hurting you,
+grieving you, as I did once before, when I forgot your great sorrow; and
+you did right to reprove me then. I know you have hated me ever since. I
+know you cannot forgive me for the pain I inflicted. It's, of course, of
+no use to say I am sorry; that is an utterly futile thing to do; but as
+far as any such feeble reparation is in my power, I am quite prepared to
+offer it to you. Sorry? I have cursed myself and my own folly ever
+since."
+
+"You are making a mistake, Mr. Heron," said Angela. She felt as if she
+could say nothing more.
+
+"How am I making a mistake?" he asked.
+
+"At the time you refer to," she said, in a hurried yet stumbling sort of
+way, "when you said what you did, I thought it careless, inconsiderate
+of you; but I have not remembered it in the way that you seem to think;
+I have not been angry. I have not hated you. There is no need for you to
+tell me that you are sorry."
+
+"I think there is every need," he said. "Do you suppose that I am going
+away into the Western wilds without even an apology?"
+
+"It is needless," she murmured.
+
+There was a pause, and then he leaned forward and said in a deeper
+tone:--
+
+"You would not say that it was needless if you felt now as you did just
+then."
+
+She looked at him helplessly, but did not speak.
+
+"It is three years since he died. I don't ask you to forget him, only I
+ask whether you could not love someone else--as well?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Heron, don't ask me," she said, tremblingly. And then she
+covered her face with her hands; her cheeks were crimson.
+
+"I will ask nothing," said Percival. "I will only tell you what my
+feelings have been, and then I will go away. It's a selfish indulgence,
+I know; but I beg of you to grant it. When I had spoken those
+inconsiderate words of mine I was ashamed of myself. I saw how much I
+had grieved you, and I vowed that I would never come into your presence
+again. I went away, and I kept away. You have seen for yourself how I
+have tried to avoid you, have you not?"
+
+"Yes," she said, gently. "I have seen it."
+
+"You know the reason now. I could not bear to see you and feel what you
+must be thinking of me. And then--then--I found that it was misery to be
+without you. I found that I missed you inexpressibly. I did not know
+till then how dear you had grown to me."
+
+She did not move, she did not speak, she only sat and listened, with her
+eyes fixed upon her folded hands. But there was nothing forbidding in
+her silence. He felt that he might go on.
+
+"It comes to this with me," he said, "that I cannot bear to meet you as
+I meet an ordinary friend or acquaintance. I would rather know that I
+shall never see you again. Either you must be all to me--or nothing. I
+know that it must be nothing, and so--I am going to California."
+
+"Do not go," she said, without looking up. She spoke coldly, he thought,
+but sweetly, too.
+
+"I must," he answered. "I must--in spite of the joy that it is to me to
+be even in your presence, and to hear your voice--I must go. I cannot
+bear it. I love you too well. It is a greater pain than I can bear, to
+look at you and to know that I can bring you no comfort, no solace; that
+your heart is buried with Richard Luttrell in a grave."
+
+"You are mistaken," she said again. Then, in a faltering voice, "you can
+bring me comfort. I shall be sorry if you are away."
+
+He caught his breath. "Do you mean it, Angela?" he cried, eagerly.
+"Think what you are saying, do not tell me to stay unless--unless--you
+can give me a little hope. Is it possible that you do not forbid me to
+love you? Do you think that in time--in time--I might win your love?"
+
+"Not in time," she murmured, "but now--now."
+
+He could hardly believe his ears. He knelt down beside her, and took her
+hands in his. "Now, Angela?" he said. "Can you love me now? Oh, my love,
+my love! tell me the truth! Have you forgiven me?"
+
+Her eyes were swimming in tears, but she gave him a glance of so much
+tenderness and trust, that he never again doubted her entire
+forgiveness. She might never forget Richard Luttrell, but her heart,
+with all its wealth of love, was given to the man who knelt before her,
+not buried in a grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course he did not go to California. The project was an utterly
+unsuitable one, and nobody scouted it more disdainfully than did he as
+soon as the mood of discontent was past. If a crowning touch were needed
+to the happiness of Brian and Elizabeth, it was given by this marriage.
+The sting of remorse which had troubled them at times when they looked
+at Percival's gloomy face was quite withdrawn. Percival's face was
+seldom gloomy now. Angela seemed to have found the secret of soothing
+his irritable nerves, of calming his impatience. Her sweet serenity was
+never ruffled by his violence; and for her sake he learned to subdue his
+temper, and to smooth his tongue as well as his brow. She led the lion
+in a leash of silk, and he was actually proud to be so led.
+
+They took a house in the unfashionable precincts of Russell-square,
+where Percival could be near his work. They were not rich, by any manner
+of means; but they were able to live in a very comfortable fashion, and
+soon found themselves surrounded by a circle of friends, who were quite
+as much attracted by Angela's tranquil grace and tenderness as by
+Percival's fitful brilliancy. Percival would never be very popular; but
+it was soon admitted on every hand that his intellect had seldom been so
+clear, his insight so great, nor his wit so free from bitterness, as in
+the days that succeeded his marriage with Angela. There is every reason
+to suppose that he will yet be a thoroughly prosperous and successful
+man.
+
+The one drop of bitterness in their cup is the absence of children. No
+little feet have come to patter up and down the wide staircase of that
+roomy house in Russell-square, no little voices re-echo along the
+passages and in the lofty rooms. But Angela's heart is perhaps only the
+more ready to bestow its tenderness upon the many who come to her for
+help--the weak, the sickly, the sinful and the weary, for whom she
+spends herself and is not spent in vain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Little more than two years after Brian's marriage, Mrs. Luttrell died.
+She died with her hand fast clasped in that of the man who had been
+indeed a son to her, she died with his name upon her lips. And when she
+was laid to rest beside her husband and her eldest son, Brian and
+Elizabeth were free to carry out a project which had been for some time
+very near their hearts. They went together to San Stefano.
+
+It was then that Elizabeth first heard the whole story of her husband's
+sojourn at the monastery. She had never known more than the bare facts
+before; and she listened with a new comprehension of his character, as
+he told her of the days of listless anguish spent after his illness at
+San Stefano, and of the hopelessness from which her own words and looks
+aroused him. He spoke much, also, of Dino and of Padre Cristoforo and
+the kindly monks: and in the sunny stillness of an early Italian morning
+they went to the churchyard to look for Dino's grave.
+
+They would not have found it but for the help of a monk who chanced to
+be in the neighbourhood. He led them courteously to the spot. It was
+unmarked by any stone, but a wreath of flowers had been laid upon it
+that morning, and the grassy mound showed signs of constant care. Brian
+and Elizabeth stood silently beside it; they did not move until the monk
+addressed them. And then Brian saw that Father Cristoforo was standing
+at their side.
+
+"He sleeps well," he said. "You need not mourn for him."
+
+"Yes, he sleeps," answered Brian, a little bitterly. "But we have lost
+him."
+
+"Do I not know that as well as you? Do I not grieve for him?" said the
+old man, with a deep sigh. "I have more reason to grieve than you. I
+have never yet told you how he died. Come with me and I will let you
+hear."
+
+They followed him to the guest-room of the monastery, and there, whilst
+they waited for him to speak, he threw back his cowl and fixed his eyes
+on Elizabeth's fair face.
+
+"It was for your sake," he said, "for your sake, in part, that Dino left
+his duty to the Church undone. It was your face, signora, that came, as
+he told me, between him and his prayers. I am glad that I have seen you
+before I die."
+
+He spoke mournfully, yet meditatively--more as if he was talking to
+himself than to her. Elizabeth shrank back a little, and Brian uttered a
+quick exclamation.
+
+"Her face?" he said. "Father, what does this mean?"
+
+The monk gave a start, and seemed to rouse himself from a dream.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, gently; "I am growing an old man, and I have had
+much to bear. I spoke without thought. Let me tell you the story of
+Dino's death."
+
+As far as he knew it, as far as he guessed it, he told the story. And
+when Brian uttered some strong ejaculation of anger and grief at its
+details, Father Cristoforo bowed his head upon his breast, folded his
+hands, and sighed.
+
+"I was wrong," he said. "You do well to rebuke me, my son; for I was
+wrong."
+
+"You were hard, you were cruel," said Brian, vehemently.
+
+"Yes, I was hard; I was cruel. But I am punished. The light of my eyes
+has been taken from me. I have lost the son that I loved."
+
+"You will see him again," said Elizabeth, softly. "You will go to him
+some day."
+
+"The saints grant it. I fear that I may not be worthy. To him the high
+places will be given; to me--to me----But he will pray for me."
+
+Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. The old man's
+form was bent; his face was shrunken, his eyes were dim. As she rightly
+guessed, it was the sorrow of Dino's death that had aged him in this
+way.
+
+Brian spoke next.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "tell me for the last time, father, what you believe
+to have been the truth of the story. Did Vincenza change the children,
+or did she not?"
+
+"My son," said the old monk, "a few months--nay, a few weeks ago, I said
+to myself that I would never answer that question. But life is slipping
+away from me; and I cannot leave the world with even the shadow of a lie
+upon my lips. When I sent Dino to England, I believed that Vincenza had
+done this thing. When Dino returned to us, I still believed that he was
+Mrs. Luttrell's son. But since our Dino's death, I have had a message--a
+solemn message--from the persons who saw Vincenza die. She had charged
+them with her last breath to tell me that the story was false--that the
+children were never changed at all. It was Mrs. Luttrell's delusion that
+suggested the plan to her. She hoped that she might make money by
+declaring that you were her son, and Dino, Mrs. Luttrell's. She swore on
+her death-bed that Dino was her child, and that it was Lippo Vasari who
+was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano."
+
+"Which story are we to believe?" said Brian, almost doubtingly.
+
+"The evidence is pretty evenly balanced," replied the Prior. "Believe
+the one that suits you best."
+
+Brian did not answer; he stood for a moment with his head bent and his
+eyes fixed on the ground. "To think," he said at last, "of the misery
+that we have suffered through--a lie!" Then he looked up, and met
+Elizabeth's eyes. "You are right," he said, as if answering some
+unspoken comment, "I have no reason to complain. I found Dino--and I
+found you; a friend and a wife--I thank God for them both."
+
+He took her hand in his, and his face was lit up with the look of love
+that was henceforth, as hitherto, to make the happiness of his life and
+hers.
+
+And when they went forth from the monastery doors it seemed to them a
+good omen that the last words echoing in their ears were those of the
+old monk's farewell salutation:--
+
+"Go in peace!"
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS TO READ.
+
+CANADIAN COPYRIGHT SERIES.
+
+
+15. Little Lord Fauntleroy. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+16. The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark Russell
+
+17. Jo's Boys, and How They Turned Out. By Louisa M. Alcott
+
+18. Saddle and Sabre. By Hawley Smart
+
+19. A Prince of the Blood. By James Payn
+
+20. An Algonquin Maiden. By G. Mercer Adam and A. Ethelwyn Wetherald
+
+21. One Traveller Returns. By David Christie Murray and H. Hermann
+
+22. Stained Pages; The Story of Anthony Grace. By G. Manville Fenn
+
+23. Lieutenant Barnabas. By Frank Barrett
+
+24. The Nun's Curse. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell
+
+25. The Twin Soul. By Charles Mackay
+
+26. One Maid's Mischief. By G. M. Fenn
+
+27. A Modern Magician. By J. F. Molloy
+
+28. A House of Tears. By E. Downey
+
+29. Sara Crewe and Editha's Burglar. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+30. The Abbey Murder. By Joseph Hatton
+
+31. The Argonauts of North Liberty. By Bret Harte
+
+32. Cradled in a Storm. By T. A. Sharp
+
+33. A Woman's Face. By Florence Warden
+
+34. Miracle Gold. By Richard Dowling
+
+35. Molloy's Story. By Frank Merryfield
+
+36. The Fortunes of Philippa Fairfax. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+37. The Silent Shore, or The Mystery of St James' Park. By John
+Bloundelle-Burton
+
+38. Eve. By S. Baring Gould
+
+39. Doctor Glennie's Daughter. By B. L. Farjeon
+
+40. The Case of Doctor Plemen. By Rene de Pont-Jest
+
+41. Bewitching Iza. By Alexis Bouvier
+
+42. A Wily Widow. By Alexis Bouvier
+
+43. Diana Barrington. By Mrs. John Croker
+
+44. The Ironmaster, or Love and Pride. By Georges Ohnet
+
+45. A Mere Child. By L. B. Walford
+
+46. Black Blood. By Geo. M. Fenn
+
+47. The Dream. By Emile Zola
+
+48. A Strange Message. By Dora Russell
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+The original book does not have a Table of Contents. One was
+added for the reader's convenience.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***
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+******* This file should be named 31375-8.txt or 31375-8.zip *******
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Under False Pretences, by Adeline Sergeant</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Under False Pretences</p>
+<p>       A Novel</p>
+<p>Author: Adeline Sergeant</p>
+<p>Release Date: February 23, 2010  [eBook #31375]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Early Canadiana Online<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.canadiana.org">http://www.canadiana.org</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      <a href="http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/33035">
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/33035</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>UNDER FALSE PRETENCES</h1>
+
+<h3>A NOVEL.</h3>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">By</span> ADELINE SERGEANT</h2>
+
+<h3>AUTHOR OF <i>Jacobi's Wife, Beyond Recall, An Open Foe, etc.</i></h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada
+in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine
+by <span class="smcap">William Bryce</span>,
+in the office of the Minister of Agriculture.</h4>
+
+<h4>TORONTO;<br />
+WILLIAM BRYCE, PUBLISHER.</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>UNDER FALSE PRETENCES.</h2>
+
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. Prologue to the Story</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. BY THE LOCH.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. HUGO LUTTRELL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. IN THE TWILIGHT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. MOTHER AND SON.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. A FAREWELL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. IN GOWER-STREET.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. ELIZABETH'S WOOING.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. BROTHER DINO.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. SAN STEFANO.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. THE PRIOR'S OPINION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. THE VILLA VENTURI.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. "WITHOUT A REFERENCE."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. A LOST LETTER.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. "MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. BRIAN'S WELCOME.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE WISHING WELL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. "GOOD-BYE."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. A COVENANT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. A REVELATION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. CHAPTER XXIX.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. RETRIBUTION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. DINO'S HOME-COMING.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. BY LAND AND SEA.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. WRECKED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. ON THE ROCAS REEF.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. KITTY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. KITTY'S FRIENDS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. A FALSE ALARM.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. TRAPPED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. HUGO'S VICTORY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. TOO LATE!</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. A MERE CHANCE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. FOUND.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII. ANGELA.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX. KITTY'S WARNING.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L. MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI. A LAST CONFESSION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII. "THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#BOOKS_TO_READ">BOOKS TO READ.</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>Prologue to the Story.</h3>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">In Two Parts.</span></h3>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p>It was in the year 1854 that an English gentleman named Edward Luttrell
+took up his abode in a white-walled, green-shuttered villa on the slopes
+of the western Apennines. He was accompanied by his wife (a Scotchwoman
+and an heiress), his son (a fine little fellow, five years old), and a
+couple of English servants. The party had been travelling in Italy for
+some months, and it was the heat of the approaching summer, as well as
+the delicate state of health in which Mrs. Luttrell found herself, that
+induced Mr. Luttrell to seek out some pleasant house amongst the hills
+where his wife and child might enjoy cool breezes and perfect repose.
+For he had lately had reason to be seriously concerned about Mrs.
+Luttrell's health.</p>
+
+<p>The husband and wife were as unlike each other as they well could be.
+Edward Luttrell was a broad-shouldered, genial, hearty man, warmly
+affectionate, hasty in word, generous in deed. Mrs. Luttrell was a woman
+of peculiarly cold manners; but she was capable, as many members of her
+household knew, of violent fits of temper and also of implacable
+resentment. She was not an easy woman to get on with, and if her husband
+had not been a man of very sweet and pliable nature, he might not have
+lived with her on such peaceful terms as was generally the case. She had
+inherited a great Scotch estate from her father, and Edward Luttrell was
+almost entirely dependent upon her; but it was not a dependence which
+seemed to gall him in the very least. Perhaps he would have been
+unreasonable if it had done so; for his wife, in spite of all her
+faults, was tenderly attached to him, and never loved him better than
+when he asserted his authority over her and her possessions.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell had not been at their pretty white villa for more
+than two months when a second son was born to them. He was baptized
+almost immediately by an English clergyman then passing through the
+place, and received the name of Brian. He was a delicate-looking baby,
+but seemed likely to live and do well. Mrs. Luttrell's recovery was
+unusually rapid; the soft Italian air suited her constitution, and she
+declared her intention of nursing the child herself.</p>
+
+<p>Edward Luttrell was in high spirits. He had been decidedly nervous
+before the event took place, but now that it was safely over he was like
+a boy in his joyous sense of security. He romped with his little son, he
+talked <i>patois</i> with the inhabitants of the neighbouring village of San
+Stefano, he gossiped with the monks of the Benedictine foundation, whose
+settlement occupied a delightful site on the hillside, and no
+premonition of coming evil disturbed his heart. He thought himself the
+most fortunate of men. He adored his wife; he worshipped the baby. His
+whole heart was bound up in his handsome little Dick, who, at five years
+old, was as nearly the image of his father as a child could be. What had
+he left to wish for?</p>
+
+<p>There had been a good deal of fever at San Stefano throughout the
+summer. When the little Brian was barely six weeks old, it became only
+too evident that Mrs. Luttrell was sickening of some illness&mdash;probably
+the same fever that had caused so much mortality in the village. The
+baby was hastily taken away from her, and a nurse provided. This nurse
+was a healthy young woman with very thick, black eyebrows and a bright
+colour; handsome, perhaps, but not prepossessing. She was the wife of a
+gardener employed at the villa, and had been recommended by one of the
+Fathers at the monastery&mdash;a certain Padre Cristoforo, who seemed to know
+the history of every man, woman and child in San Stefano. She was the
+mother of twins, but this was a fact which the Luttrells did not know.</p>
+
+<p>This woman, Vincenza Vasari by name, was at first domiciled in the villa
+itself with her charge; but as more dangerous symptoms declared
+themselves in Mrs. Luttrell's case, it was thought better that she
+should take the baby to her own home, which was a fairly clean and
+respectable cottage close to the gates of the villa. Here Mr. Luttrell
+could visit the child from time to time; but as his wife's illness
+became more serious he saw less and less of the baby, and left it more
+than ever to Vincenza's care.</p>
+
+<p>Vincenza's own children were with their grandmother at a hamlet three
+miles from San Stefano. The grandmother, generally known as old Assunta,
+used to bring one or another of them sometimes to see Vincenza. Perhaps
+they took the infection of fever in the course of these visits; at any
+rate one of them was soon reported to be seriously ill, and Vincenza was
+cautioned against taking the Luttrells' baby into the village. It was
+the little Lippo Vasari who was ill; his twin-brother Dino was reported
+perfectly well.</p>
+
+<p>Some days afterwards Mr. Luttrell, on calling at the cottage as usual,
+noticed that Vincenza's eyes were red, and her manner odd and abrupt.
+Old Assunta was there, with the baby upon her knee. Mr. Luttrell asked
+what was the matter. Vincenza turned away and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"She has lost her baby, signor," the old woman explained. "The little
+one died last night at the village, and Vincenza could not see it. The
+doctor will tell you about it all," she said, nodding significantly, and
+lowering her voice. "He knows."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Luttrell questioned the doctor, and received his assurance that
+Vincenza's child (one of the twins) had been kept strictly apart from
+the little Brian Luttrell; and that there could be no danger of
+infection. In which assurance the doctor was perfectly sincere, not
+knowing that Vincenza's habit had been to spend a portion of almost
+every evening at her mother's house, in order to see her own children,
+to whom, however, she did not seem to be passionately attached.</p>
+
+<p>It is to be noted that the Luttrells still learned nothing of the
+existence of the other baby; they fancied that all Vincenza's children
+were dead. Vincenza had thought that the English lady would be
+prejudiced against her if she knew that she was the mother of twins, and
+had left them both to old Assunta's care; so, even when Lippo was laid
+to rest in the churchyard at San Stefano, the little Dino was carefully
+kept in the background and not suffered to appear. Neither Mr. Luttrell
+nor Mrs. Luttrell (until long afterwards) knew that Vincenza had another
+child.</p>
+
+<p>Two months passed before Mrs. Luttrell was sufficiently restored to
+health to be able to see her children. The day came at last when little
+Richard was summoned to her room to kiss a pale woman with great, dark
+eyes, at whom he gazed solemnly, wonderingly, but with a profound
+conviction that his own mamma had gone away and left her place to be
+filled up by somebody else. In point of fact, Mrs. Luttrell's expression
+was curiously changed; and the boy's instinct discovered the change at
+once. There was a restless, wandering look in her large, dark eyes which
+had never been visible in them before her illness, except in moments of
+strong excitement. She did not look like herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I want the baby," she said, when she had kissed little Richard and
+talked to him for a few moments. "Where is my baby?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Luttrell came up to her side and answered her.</p>
+
+<p>"The baby is coming, Margaret; Vincenza is bringing him." Then, after a
+pause&mdash;"Baby has been ill," he said. "You must be prepared to see a
+great change in him."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him as if she did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"What change shall I see?" she said. "Tell Vincenza to make haste,
+Edward. I must see my baby at once; the doctor said I might see him
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't excite yourself, Margaret; I'll fetch them," said Mr. Luttrell,
+easily. "Come along, Dick; let us find Vincenza and little brother
+Brian."</p>
+
+<p>He quitted the room, with Dick at his heels. Mrs. Luttrell was left
+alone. But she had not long to wait. Vincenza entered, made a low
+reverence, uttered two or three sentences of congratulation on the
+English signora's recovery, and then placed the baby on Mrs. Luttrell's
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>What happened next nobody ever precisely knew. But in another moment
+Vincenza fled from the room, with her hands to her ears, and her face as
+white as death.</p>
+
+<p>"The signora is mad&mdash;mad!" she gasped, as she met Mr. Luttrell in the
+corridor. "She does not know her own child! She says that she will kill
+it! I dare not go to her; she says that her baby is dead, and that that
+one is mine! Mine! mine! Oh, Holy Virgin in Heaven! she says that the
+child is mine!"</p>
+
+<p>Wherewith Vincenza went into strong hysterics, and Mr. Luttrell strode
+hastily towards his wife's room, from which the cries of a child could
+be heard. He found Mrs. Luttrell sitting with the baby on her knee, but
+although the poor little thing was screaming with all its might, she
+vouchsafed it no attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell Vincenza to take her wretched child away," she said. "I want my
+own. This is her child; not mine."</p>
+
+<p>Edward Luttrell stood aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret, what do you mean?" he ejaculated. "Vincenza's child is dead.
+This is our little Brian. You are dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>He did not know whether she understood him or not, but a wild light
+suddenly flashed into her great, dark eyes. She dashed the child down
+upon the bed with the fury of a mad woman.</p>
+
+<p>"You are deceiving me," she cried; "I know that my child is dead. Tell
+me the truth; my child is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"No such, thing, Margaret," cried Mr. Luttrell, almost angrily; "how can
+you utter such folly?"</p>
+
+<p>But his remonstrance passed unheeded. Mrs. Luttrell had, sunk insensible
+to the floor; and her swoon was followed by a long and serious relapse,
+during which it seemed very unlikely that she would ever awake again to
+consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>The crisis approached. She passed it safely and recovered. Then came the
+tug of war. The little Brian was brought back to the house, with
+Vincenza as his nurse; but Mrs. Luttrell refused to see him. Doctors
+declared her dislike of the child to be a form of mania; her husband
+certainly believed it to be so. But the one fact remained. She would not
+acknowledge the child to be her own, and she would not consent to its
+being brought up as Edward Luttrell's son. Nothing would convince her
+that her own baby still lived, or that this child was not the offspring
+of the Vasari household. Mr. Luttrell expostulated. Vincenza protested
+and shed floods of tears, the doctor, the monks, the English nurse were
+all employed by turn, in the endeavour to soften her heart; but every
+effort was useless. Mrs. Luttrell declared that the baby which Vincenza
+had brought her was not her child, and that she should live and die in
+this conviction.</p>
+
+<p>Was she mad? Or was some wonderful instinct of mother's love at the
+bottom of this obstinate adherence to her opinion?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Luttrell honestly thought that she was mad. And then, mild man as he
+was, he rose up and claimed his right as her husband to do as he thought
+fit. He sent for his solicitor, a Mr. Colquhoun, through whom he went so
+far even as to threaten his wife with severe measures if she did not
+yield. He would not live with her, he said&mdash;or Mr. Colquhoun reported
+that he said&mdash;unless she chose to bury her foolish fancy in oblivion.
+There was no doubt in his mind that the child was Brian Luttrell, not
+Lippo Vasari, whose name was recorded on a rough wooden cross in the
+churchyard of San Stefano. And he insisted upon it that his wife should
+receive the child as her own.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long fight, but in the end Mrs. Luttrell had to yield. She
+dismissed Vincenza, and she returned to Scotland with the two children.
+Her husband exacted from her a promise that she would never again speak
+of the wild suspicion that had entered her mind; that under no
+circumstances would she ever let the poor little boy know of the painful
+doubt that had been thrown on his identity. Mrs. Luttrell promised, and
+for three-and-twenty years she kept her word. Perhaps she would not have
+broken it then but for a certain great trouble which fell upon her, and
+which caused a temporary revival of the strange madness which had led
+her to hate the child placed in her arms at San Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be wondered at that Edward Luttrell made a favourite of
+his second son in after life. A sense of the injustice done him by his
+mother made the father especially tender to the little Brian; he walked
+with him, talked with him, made a companion of him in every possible
+way. Mrs. Luttrell regained by degrees the cold composure of manner that
+had distinguished her in earlier life: but she could not command herself
+so far as to make a show of affection for her younger son. Brian was a
+very small boy indeed when he found that out. "Mother doesn't love me,"
+he said once to his father, with grieving lips and tear-filled eyes; "I
+wonder why." What could his father do but press him passionately to his
+broad breast and assure him in words of tenderest affection that he
+loved his boy; and that if Brian were good, and true, and brave, his
+mother would love him too! "I will be very good then," said Brian,
+nestling close up to his father's shoulder&mdash;for he was a child with
+exceedingly winning ways and a very affectionate disposition&mdash;and
+putting one arm round Mr. Luttrell's neck. "But you know she loves
+Richard always&mdash;even when he is naughty. And you love me when I'm
+naughty, too." What could Mr. Luttrell say to that?</p>
+
+<p>He died when Brian was fifteen years old; and the last words upon his
+tongue were an entreaty that his wife would never tell the boy of the
+suspicion that had turned her love to him into bitterness. He died, and
+part of the sting of his death to Mrs. Luttrell lay in the fact that he
+died thinking her mad on that one point. The doctors had called her
+conviction "a case of mania," and he had implicitly believed them.</p>
+
+<p>But suppose she had not been mad all the time!</p>
+
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>In San Stefano life went on tranquilly from month to month and year to
+year. In 1867, Padre Cristoforo of the Benedictine Monastery, looked
+scarcely older than when he picked out a nurse for the Luttrell family
+in 1854. He was a tall man, with a stooping gait and a prominent,
+sagacious chin; deep-set, meditative, dark eyes, and a somewhat fine and
+subtle sort of smile which flickered for a moment at the corner of his
+thin-lipped mouth, and disappeared before you were fully conscience of
+its presence. He was summoned one day from the monastery (where he now
+filled the office of sub-Prior) at the earnest request of an old woman
+who lived in a neighbouring village. She had known him many years
+before, and thought that it would be easier to tell her story to him
+than to a complete stranger. He had received her communication, and
+stood by her pallet with evident concern and astonishment depicted upon
+his face. He held a paper in his hand, at which he glanced from time to
+time as the woman spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"It was not my doing," moaned the old crone. "It was my daughter's. I
+have but told you what she said to me five years ago. She said that she
+did change the children; it was Lippo, indeed, who died, but the child
+whom the English lady took to England with her was Vincenza's little
+Dino; and the boy whom we know as Dino is really the English child. I
+know not whether it is true! Santa Vergine! what more can I say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not reveal the facts five years ago?" said the Father, with
+some severity of tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you, Reverend Father. Because Vincenza came to me next day
+and said that she had lied&mdash;that the child, Dino, was her own, after
+all, and that she had only wanted to see how much I would believe. What
+was I to do? I do not know which story to believe; that is why I tell
+both stories to you before I die."</p>
+
+<p>"She denied it, then, next day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Father; but her husband believed it, as you will see by that
+paper. He wrote it down&mdash;he could write and read a little, which I could
+never do; and he told me what he had written:&mdash;'I, Giovanni Vasari, have
+heard my wife, Vincenza, say that she stole an English gentleman's
+child, and put her own child in its place. I do not know whether this is
+true; but I leave my written word that I was innocent of any such crime,
+and humbly pray to Heaven that she may be forgiven if she committed it.'
+Is that right, Reverend Father? And then his name, and the day and the
+year."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right," said Padre Cristoforo. "It was written just before
+Giovanni died. The matter cannot possibly be proved without further
+testimony. Where is Vincenza?"'</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, Father, I do not know. Dead, I think, or she would have come back
+to me before now. I have not heard of her since she took a situation as
+maid to a lady in Turin four years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Why have you told me so useless a story at all, then?" said the father,
+again with some sternness of voice and manner. "Evidently Vincenza was
+fond of romancing; and, probably&mdash;probably&mdash;&mdash;" He did not finish his
+sentence; but he was thinking&mdash;"Probably the mad fancy of that English
+lady about her child&mdash;which I well remember&mdash;suggested the story to
+Vincenza as a means of getting money. I wish I had her here."</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you the story, Reverend Father," said the old woman, whose
+voice was growing very weak, "because I know that I am dying, and that
+the boy will be left alone in the world, which is a sad fate for any
+boy, Father, whether he is Vincenza's child or the son of the English
+lady. He is a good lad, Reverend Father, strong, and obedient, and
+patient; if the good Fathers would but take charge of him, and see that
+he is taught a trade, or put to some useful work! He would be no burden
+to you, my poor, little Dino!"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Benedictine's eyes flashed with a quick fire; then he
+looked down and stood perfectly still, with his hands folded and his
+head bent. A new idea had darted across his mind. Did the story that he
+had just heard offer him no opportunity of advancing the interests of
+his Order and of his Church?</p>
+
+<p>He turned as if to ask another question, but he was too late. Old
+Assunta was fast falling into the stupor that is but the precursor of
+death. He called her attendant, and waited for a time to see whether
+consciousness was likely to return. But he waited in vain. Assunta said
+nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>The boy of whom she had spoken came and wept at her bed-side, and Padre
+Cristoforo observed him curiously. He was well worthy of the monk's
+gaze. He was light and supple in figure, perfectly formed, with a clear
+brown skin and a face such as one sees in early Italian paintings of
+angelic singing-boys&mdash;a face with broad, serious brows, soft, oval
+cheeks, curved lips, and delightfully dimpled chin. He had large, brown
+eyes and a mass of tangled, curling hair. The priest noted that his
+slender limbs were graceful as those of a young fawn, that his hands and
+feet were small and well shaped, and that his appearance betokened
+perfect health&mdash;a slight spareness and sharpness of outline being the
+only trace which poverty seemed to have left upon him.</p>
+
+<p>The sub-Prior of San Stefano saw these things; and meditated upon
+certain possibilities in the future. He went next day to old Assunta's
+funeral, and laid his hand on Dino's shoulder as the boy was turning
+disconsolately from his grandmother's grave.</p>
+
+<p>"My child," he said, gently, "you are alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Father," said Dino, with a stifled sob.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come with me to the monastery? I think we can find you a home.
+You have nowhere to go, poor child, and you will be weary and hungry
+before long. Will you come?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing in the world that I should like so well!" cried the
+boy, ardently.</p>
+
+<p>"Come then," said the Padre, with one of his subtle smiles. "We will go
+together."</p>
+
+<p>He held out his hand, in which Dino gladly laid his hot and trembling
+fingers. Then the monk and the boy set out on the three miles walk which
+lay between them and the monastery.</p>
+
+<p>On their arrival, Padre Cristoforo left the boy in the cool cloisters
+whilst he sought the Prior&mdash;a dignitary whose permission would be needed
+before Dino would be allowed to stay. There was a school in connection
+with the monastery, but it was devoted chiefly to the training of young
+priests, and it was not probable that a peasant like Dino Vasari would
+be admitted to the ranks of these budding ecclesiastics. The Prior
+thought that old Assunta's grandchild would make a good helper for
+Giacomo, the dresser of the vines.</p>
+
+<p>"Does that not satisfy you?" said Padre Cristoforo, in a rather peculiar
+tone, when he had carried this proposal to Dino, and seen the boy's face
+suddenly fall, and his eyes fill with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"The Reverend Fathers are very good," said Dino, in a somewhat
+embarrassed fashion, "and I will do all that I can to serve them, and,
+if I could also learn to read and write&mdash;and listen to the music in the
+chapel sometimes&mdash;I would work for them all the days of my life."</p>
+
+<p>Padre Cristoforo smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have your wish, my child," he said, kindly. "You shall go to
+the school&mdash;not to the vine-dressers. You shall be our son now."</p>
+
+<p>But Dino looked up at him timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"And not the English lady's?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know about an English lady, my son?"</p>
+
+<p>"My grandmother talked to me of her. Is it true? She said that I might,
+turn out to be an Englishman, after all. She said that Vincenza told her
+that I did not belong to her."</p>
+
+<p>"My child," said the monk, calmly but firmly, "put these thoughts away
+from your mind. They are idle and vain imaginations. Assunta knew
+nothing; Vincenza did not always speak the truth. In any case, it is
+impossible to prove the truth of her story. It is a sin to let your mind
+dwell on the impossible. Your name is Bernardino Vasari, and you are to
+be brought up in the monastery of San Stefano by wise and pious men. Is
+that not happiness enough for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, yes, indeed; I wish for nothing else," said Dino, throwing
+himself at Padre Cristoforo's feet, and pressing his lips to the monk's
+black gown, while the tears poured down his smooth, olive cheeks.
+"Indeed I am not ungrateful, Reverend Father, and I will never wish to
+be anything but what you want me to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Better so," soliloquised the Father, when he had comforted Dino with
+kind words, and led him away to join the companions that would
+henceforth be his; "better that he should not wish to rise above the
+station in which he has been brought up! We shall never prove Vincenza's
+story. If we could do that, we should be abundantly recompensed for
+training this lad in the doctrines of the Church&mdash;but it will never be.
+Unless, indeed, the woman Vincenza could be found and urged to
+confession. But that," said the monk, with a regretful sigh, "that is
+not likely to occur. And, therefore, the boy will be Dino Vasari, as far
+as I can see, to his life's end. And Vincenza's child is living in the
+midst of a rich English family under the name of Brian Luttrell. I must
+not forget the name. In days to come who knows whether the positions of
+these two boys may not be reversed?"</p>
+
+<p>Thus mused Father Cristoforo, and then he smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Vincenza was always a liar," he said to himself. "It is the most
+unlikely thing in the world that her story should be true."</p>
+
+<h4>END OF THE PROLOGUE.</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY THE LOCH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"It is you who have been the thief, then?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was uttered in tones of withering contempt. The criminal,
+standing before his judge with downcast face and nervously-twitching
+fingers, found not a word to reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Answer me," said Richard Luttrell, imperatively. "Tell me the
+truth&mdash;or, by Heaven, I'll thrash you within an inch of your life, and
+make you speak! Did you, or did you not, take this money out of my
+strong-box?"</p>
+
+<p>"I meant to put it back," faltered the culprit. He was a slender lad of
+twenty, with the olive skin, the curling jet-black hair, the
+liquid-brown eyes, which marked his descent from a southern race. The
+face was one of singular beauty. The curved lips, the broad brow on
+which the dusky hair grew low, the oval cheek and rounded chin might
+well have served for the impersonation of some Spanish beggar-boy or
+Neapolitan fisher-lad. They were of the subtilely sensuous type,
+expressive of passion rather than of intellect or will. At present, with
+the usual rich, ripe colour vanished from cheek and lips, with eyes
+downcast, and trembling hands dropped to his sides, he was a picture of
+embodied shame and fear which his cousin and guardian, Richard Luttrell,
+regarded with unmitigated disgust.</p>
+
+<p>Luttrell himself was a man of very different fibre. Tall, strong,
+fiercely indignant, he towered over the youth as if he could willingly
+have smitten him to the earth. He was a fine-looking, broad-shouldered
+man of twenty-eight, with strongly-marked features, browned by exposure
+to the sun and wind. The lower part of his face was almost hidden by a
+crisp chestnut beard and moustache, whilst his eyes were of the reddish
+hazel tint which often denotes heat of temper. The fire which now shot
+from beneath the severely knitted brows might indeed have dismayed a
+person of stouter heart than Hugo Luttrell. The youth showed no signs of
+penitence; he was thoroughly dismayed and alarmed by the position in
+which he found himself, but that was all.</p>
+
+<p>The scene of their interview was hardly in accordance with its painful
+character. The three men&mdash;for there was another whom we have not
+attempted to describe&mdash;stood on the border of a small loch, the tranquil
+waters of which came lapping almost to their feet as they spoke
+together. The grassy shores were fringed with alder and rowan-trees.
+Above the heads of the speakers waved the branches of a great Scotch
+fir, the outpost and sentinel, as it were, of an army of its brethren,
+standing discreetly a few yards away from the banks of the loch. Richard
+Luttrell's house, though not far distant, was out of sight; and the one
+little, grey-stone cottage which could be seen had no windows fronting
+the water. It was a spot, therefore, in which a prolonged conversation
+could be carried on without much fear of disturbance. Beyond the trees,
+and on each side of the loch, were ranged the silent hills; their higher
+crags purple in the sunlight, brown and violet in shadow. The tints of
+the heather were beginning to glow upon the moors; on the lower-lying
+slopes a mass of foliage showed its first autumnal colouring; here and
+there a field of yellow stubble gave a dash of almost dazzling
+brightness to the landscape, under the cloudless azure of a September
+sky. Hills, woods, and firmament were alike reflected with mirror-like
+distinctness in the smooth bosom of the loch, where little, brown ducks
+swam placidly amongst the weeds, and swallows skimmed and dipped and
+flew in happy ignorance of the ruin that guilt and misery can work in
+the lives of men.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Luttrell stood with his back towards the open door of a large
+wooden shed used as a boat-house, the interior of which looked densely
+black by contrast with the brilliant sunlight on the green grass and
+trees outside it. An open box or two, a heap, of fishing tackle, a
+broken oar, could be seen but dimly from without. It was in one of these
+boxes that Richard Luttrell had made, early in the day, a startling
+discovery. He had come across a pocket-book which had been abstracted
+from his strong-box in a most mysterious way about a week before. On
+opening it, he found, not only certain bank-notes which he had missed,
+but some marked coins and a cornelian seal which had disappeared on
+previous occasions, proving that a system of robbery had been carried on
+by one and the same person&mdash;evidently a member of the Luttrell
+household. The spoil was concealed with great care in a locked box on a
+shelf, and but for an accidental stumble by which Luttrell had brought
+down the whole shelf and broken the box itself, it would probably have
+remained there undisturbed. No one would ever have dreamt of seeking for
+Luttrell's pocket-book in a box in the boat-house.</p>
+
+<p>"How did this get here? Who keeps the second key of the boat-house?"
+demanded Richard in the first moment of his discovery.</p>
+
+<p>And Brian, his younger brother, answered carelessly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo has had it for the last week or two."</p>
+
+<p>Then, disturbed by his brother's tone, he came to Richard's side and
+looked at the fragments of the box by which Richard was still kneeling.
+With an exclamation of surprise he took up the lid of the box and
+examined it carefully. The name of its owner had been printed in ink on
+the smooth, brown surface&mdash;Hugo Luttrell. And the stolen property was
+hidden in that little wooden box.</p>
+
+<p>The exclamations of the two brothers were characteristic. Richard raised
+himself with the pocket-book in his hand, and said vehemently&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The young scoundrel! He shall rue it!"</p>
+
+<p>While Brian, looking shocked and grieved, sat down on the stump of a
+tree and muttered, "Poor lad!" between his teeth, as he contemplated the
+miserable fragments on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of a bell came faintly to their ears through the clear morning
+air. Richard spoke sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"We must leave the matter for the present. Don't say anything about it.
+Lock up the boat-house, Brian, and keep the key. We'll have Hugo down
+here after breakfast, and see whether he'll make a clean breast of it."</p>
+
+<p>"He may know nothing at all about it," suggested Brian, rising from his
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>"It is to be hoped so," said Luttrell, curtly. He walked out of the
+boat-house with frowning brows and sparkling eyes. "I know one thing&mdash;my
+roof won't shelter him any longer if he is guilty." And then he marched
+away to the house, leaving Brian to lock the door and follow at his
+ease.</p>
+
+<p>That morning's breakfast was long remembered in the Luttrells' house as
+a period of vague and curious discomfort. The reddish light in Richard's
+eyes was well known for a danger signal; a storm was in the air when he
+wore that expression of suppressed emotion. Brian, a good deal disturbed
+by what had occurred, scarcely spoke at all; he sat with his eyes fixed
+on the table, forgetting to eat, and glancing only from time to time at
+Hugo's young, beautiful, laughing face, as the lad talked gaily to a
+visitor, or fed the dogs&mdash;privileged inmates of the dining-room&mdash;with
+morsels from his own plate. It was impossible to think that this
+handsome boy, just entering on the world, fresh from a military college,
+with a commission in the Lancers, should have chosen to rob the very man
+who had been his benefactor and friend, whose house had sheltered him
+for the last ten years of his life. What could he have wanted with this
+money? Luttrell made him a handsome allowance, had paid his bills more
+than once, provided his outfit, put all the resources of his home at
+Hugo's disposal, as if he had been a son of the house instead of a
+penniless dependent&mdash;had, in short, behaved to him with a generosity
+which Brian might have resented had he been of a resentful disposition,
+seeing that he himself had been much less liberally treated. But Brian
+never concerned himself about that view of the matter; only now, when he
+suspected Hugo of dishonesty and ingratitude, did he run over in his
+mind a list of the benefits which the boy had received for many years
+from the master of the house, and grow indignant at the enumeration. Was
+it possible that Hugo could be guilty? He had not been truthful as a
+schoolboy, Brian remembered; once or twice he had narrowly escaped
+public disgrace for some dishonourable act&mdash;dishonourable in the eyes of
+his companions, as well as of his masters&mdash;a fact which was not to
+Hugo's credit. Perhaps, however, there was now some mistake&mdash;perhaps the
+matter might be cleared up. Appearances were against him, but Hugo might
+yet vindicate his integrity&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Brian's meditations were interrupted at this point. His brother had
+risen from the breakfast-table and was addressing Hugo, with a great
+show of courtesy, but with the stern light in his eyes which always made
+those who knew him best be on their guard with Richard Luttrell. "If you
+are at liberty," he said, "I want you down at the boat-house. I am going
+there now."</p>
+
+<p>Brian, who was watching his cousin, saw a sudden change in his face. His
+lips turned white, his eyes moved uneasily in their sockets. It seemed
+almost as if he glanced backwards and forwards in order to look for a
+way of escape. But no escape was possible. Richard stood waiting,
+severe, inflexible, with that ominous gleam in his eyes. Hugo rose and
+followed like a dog at his master's call. From the moment that Brian
+marked his sullen, hang-dog expression and drooping head, he gave up his
+hope of proving Hugo's innocence. He would gladly have absented himself
+from the interview, but Richard summoned him in a voice that admitted of
+no delay.</p>
+
+<p>The lad's own face and words betrayed him when he was shown the
+pocket-book and the broken box. He stammered out excuses, prevaricated,
+lied; until at last Luttrell lost all patience, and insisted upon a
+definite reply to his question. And then Hugo muttered his last
+desperate self-justification&mdash;that he had "meant to put it back!"</p>
+
+<p>Richard's stalwart figure, the darkness of his brow, the strong hand in
+which he was swinging a heavy hunting-crop&mdash;caught up, as he left the
+house, for no decided purpose, but disagreeably significant in Hugo's
+eyes&mdash;became doubly terrible to the lad during the interval of silence
+that followed his avowal. He glanced supplicatingly at Brian; but Brian
+had no aid to give him now. And, when Brian's help failed him, Hugo felt
+that all was lost.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Brian himself, a little in the back ground, leaned against
+the trunk of a tree which grew close to the shallow water's edge, bent
+his eyes upon the ground and tried to see the boy's face as little as
+possible. His affection for Hugo had given him an influence over the lad
+which Richard had certainly never possessed. For, generous as Richard
+might be, he was not fond of his young cousin; and Hugo, being aware of
+this fact, regarded him with instinctive aversion. In his own fashion he
+did love Brian&mdash;a little bit!</p>
+
+<p>Brian Luttrell was at this time barely three-and-twenty. He had rooms in
+London, where he was supposed to be reading for the bar, but his tastes
+were musical and literary, and he had not yet made much progress in his
+legal studies. He had a handsome, intellectual face of a very refined
+type, thoughtful dark eyes, a long, brown moustache, and small pointed
+beard of the same colour. He was slighter, less muscular, than Richard;
+and the comment often made upon him was that he had the look of a
+dreamer, perhaps of an artist&mdash;not of a very practical man&mdash;and that he
+was extremely unlike his brother. There was, indeed, a touch of unusual
+and almost morbid sensitiveness in Brian's nature, which, betraying
+itself, as it did, from time to time, only by a look, a word, a gesture,
+yet proved his unlikeness to Richard Luttrell more than any
+dissimilarity of feature could have done.</p>
+
+<p>"You meant to put it back, sir!" thundered Richard, after that moment's
+pause, which seemed like an eternity to Hugo. "And where did you mean to
+get the money from? Steal it from some one else? Folly! lies! And for
+what disgraceful reason did you take it at all? You are in debt, I
+presume?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's white lips signified assent.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been gambling again?"</p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so. I told you three months ago that I had paid your gambling
+debts for the last time. I make one exception. I will pay them once
+again&mdash;with the money you have stolen, which you may keep. Much good may
+it do you!" He flung the pocket-book on the turf at Hugo's feet as he
+spoke. "Take it. You have paid dearly enough for it, God knows. For the
+future, sir, manage your own affairs; my house is no longer open to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be hard on him, Richard," said Brian, in a voice too low to reach
+Hugo's ears. "Forgive him this time; he is only a boy, after all&mdash;and a
+boy with a bad training."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be so good as to mind your own business, Brian?" said the
+elder brother, peremptorily. The severity of his tone increased as he
+addressed himself again to Hugo. "You will leave Netherglen to-day. Your
+luggage can be sent after you; give your own directions about it. I
+suppose you will rejoin your regiment? I neither know nor care what you
+mean to do. If we meet again, we meet as strangers."</p>
+
+<p>"Willingly," said Hugo, lifting his eyes for one instant to his cousin's
+face, with an expression so full of brooding hatred and defiance that
+even Richard Luttrell was amazed.</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake don't say that, Hugo," began the second brother, with
+a hasty desire to pave the way for reconciliation.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>The look of abject fear was dying out of his face. The worst, he
+thought, was over. He drew himself up, crossed his arms, and tried to
+meet Brian's reproachful eyes with confidence, but in this attempt he
+was not successful. In spite of himself, the eyelids dropped until the
+long, black lashes almost touched the smooth, olive cheek, across which
+passed a transient flush of shame. This sign of feeling touched Brian;
+the lad was surely not hopelessly bad if he could blush for his sins.
+But Richard went on ruthlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"You need expect no further help from me. I own you as a relation no
+longer. You have disgraced the name you bear. Don't let me see you again
+in my house." He was too indignant, too much excited, to speak in
+anything but short, sharp sentences, each of which seemed more bitter
+than the last. Richard Luttrell was little concerned for Hugo's welfare,
+much for the honour of the family. "Go," he said, "at once, and I will
+not publish your shameful conduct to the world. If you return to my
+house, if you seek to establish any communication with members of my
+family, I shall not keep your secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak for yourself, Richard," said his brother, warmly, "not for me. I
+hope that Hugo will do better in time; and I don't mean to give him up.
+You must make an exception for me when you speak of separating him from
+the family."</p>
+
+<p>"I make no exception," said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>Brian drew nearer to his brother, and uttered his next words in a lower
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Think what you are doing," he said. "You will drive him to desperation,
+and, after all, he is only a boy of nineteen. Quite young enough to
+repent and reform, if we are not too hard upon him now. Do as you think
+fit for yourself and your own household, but you must not stand in the
+way of what I can do for him, little though that may be."</p>
+
+<p>"I stand to what I have said," answered Richard, harshly. "I will have
+no communication between him and you." Then, folding his arms, he looked
+grimly and sardonically into Brian's face. "I trust neither of you," he
+said. "We all know that you are only too easily led by those whom you
+like to be led by, and he is a young reprobate. Choose for yourself, of
+course; I have no claim to control you, only, if you choose to be
+friendly with him, I shall cut off the supplies to you as well as to
+him, and I shall expose him publicly."</p>
+
+<p>Brian took away the hand which, in the ardour of his pleading, he had
+laid upon Richard's arm. Had it not been for Hugo's sake, he would have
+quitted the spot in dudgeon. He knew in his heart that it was useless to
+argue with Richard in his present state of passion. But for Hugo's sake
+he swallowed his resentment, and made one more trial.</p>
+
+<p>"If he repents&mdash;&mdash;" he began doubtfully, and never finished the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't repent," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>His voice was hoarse and broken, but insolently defiant. By a great
+effort of will he fixed his haggard eyes full on Richard Luttrell's face
+as he spoke. Richard shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You hear?" he said, briefly to his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear," Brian answered, in a low, pained tone.</p>
+
+<p>With an air of bravado Hugo stooped and picked up the pocket-book which
+still lay at his feet. He weighed it in his hand, and then laughed
+aloud, though not very steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"It is full still," he said. "It will be useful, no doubt. I am much
+obliged to you, Cousin Richard."</p>
+
+<p>The action, and the words accompanying it, shocked even Richard, who
+professed to think nothing too bad for Hugo's powers. He tossed his head
+back and turned away with a contemptuous "Good Heavens!" Brian walked
+for a few paces distance, and then stood still, with his back to his
+cousin. Hugo glanced from one to the other with uneasiness, which he
+tried to veil by an assumption of disdain, and dropped the purse
+furtively into his pocket. He was ill-pleased to see Richard turn back
+with lowered eyebrows, and a look of stern determination upon his
+bearded face.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian," said Luttrell, more quietly than he had yet spoken, "I think I
+see mother coming down the road. Will you meet her and lead her away
+from the loch, without telling her the reason? I don't wish her to meet
+this&mdash;this gentleman&mdash;again."</p>
+
+<p>The intonation of his voice, the look that he bestowed upon Hugo at the
+words that he emphasised, made the lad quiver from head to foot with
+rage. Brian walked away without turning to bestow another glance or word
+on Hugo. It was a significant action, and one which the young fellow
+felt, with a throb of mingled shame and hatred, that he could
+understand. He clenched his hands until the dent of the nails brought
+blood, without knowing what he did; then made a step or two in another
+direction, as if to leave the place. Richard's commanding voice made him
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" said Luttrell. "Wait until I give you leave to go."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo waited, with his face turned towards the shining waters of the
+loch. The purple mist amongst the distant hills, the golden light upon
+the rippling water, the reddening foliage of the trees, had never been
+more beautiful than they were that morning. But their beauty was lost
+upon Hugo, whose mind was filled with hard and angry protests against
+the treatment that he was receiving, and a great dread of the somewhat
+desolate future.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Luttrell moved about restlessly, stopping short, now and then,
+to watch the figure in black which he had discerned upon the road near
+the house. He saw Brian meet it; the two stood and spoke together for a
+few minutes; then Brian gave his arm to his mother and led her back to
+the house. When they were quite out of sight, Luttrell turned back to
+his cousin and spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now that I have got Brian out of the way," he said, as he laid an iron
+hand on Hugo's arm, "I am free to punish you as I choose. Mind, I would
+have spared you this if you had not had the insufferable insolence to
+pick up that pocket-book in my presence. Since you were shameless enough
+for that, it is plain what sort of chastisement you deserve. Take
+that&mdash;and that&mdash;and that!"</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his hunting-crop as he spoke, and brought it down heavily on
+the lad's shoulders. Hugo uttered a cry like that of a wild animal in
+pain, and fought with hands, feet, teeth even, against the infliction of
+the stinging blows; but he fought in vain. His cousin's superior
+strength mastered him from the beginning; he felt like an infant in
+Richard's powerful grasp. Not until the storm of furious imprecations in
+which the lad at first vented his impotent rage had died away into
+stifled moans and sobs of pain, did Richard's vengeance come to an end.
+He flung the boy from him, broke the whip between his strong hands, and
+hurled the fragments far into the water, then walked away to the house,
+leaving Hugo to sob his heart out, like a passionate child, with face
+down in the short, green grass.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>HUGO LUTTRELL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugo's Sicilian mother had transmitted to him a nature at once fierce
+and affectionate, passionate and cunning. Half-child, half-savage, he
+seemed to be bound by none of the restraints that civilised men early
+learn to place upon their instincts. He expressed his anger, his sorrow,
+his love, with all the abandon that characterised the natives of those
+sunny shores where the first years of his life were spent. Profoundly
+simple in his modes of feeling, he was yet dominated by the habits of
+slyness and trickery which seem to be inherent in the truly savage
+breast. He had the savage's love of secrecy and instinctive suspicion of
+his fellow-creatures, the savage's swift passions and vindictiveness,
+the savage's innate difficulty in comprehending the laws of honour and
+morality. It is possible to believe that, with good training from his
+infancy, Hugo Luttrell might have developed into a trustworthy and
+straightforward man, shrinking from dishonesty and cowardice as infamy
+worse than death; but his early education had been of a kind likely to
+foster every vice that he possessed. His father, a cousin of the
+Luttrells of Netherglen, after marrying a lovely Palermitan, and living
+for three years with her in her native land, had at last tired of her
+transports of love and jealousy, and started upon an exploring
+expedition in South Africa. Hugo was brought up by a mother who adored
+him and taught him to loathe the English race. He was surrounded by
+flatterers and sycophants from his babyhood, and treated as if he were
+born to a kingdom. When he was twelve years old, however, his mother
+died; and his father, on learning her death some months afterwards, made
+it his business to fetch the boy away from Sicily and bring him to
+England. But Hugh Luttrell, the father, was already a dying man. The
+seeds of disease had been developed during his many journeyings; he was
+far gone in consumption before he even reached the English shores. His
+own money was nearly spent. There was a law-suit about the estates
+belonging to his wife's father, and it was scarcely probable that they
+would devolve upon Hugo, who had cousins older than himself and dearer
+to the Sicilian grandfather's heart. The dying man turned in his
+extremity to the young head of the house, Richard Luttrell, then only
+twenty-one years of age, and did not turn in vain. Richard Luttrell
+undertook the charge of the boy, and as soon as the father was laid in
+the grave, he took Hugo home with him to Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Luttrell could hardly have treated Hugo more generously than he
+did, but it must be confessed that he never liked the boy. The faults
+which were evident from the first day of his entrance into the
+Luttrells' home, were such as disgusted and repelled the somewhat
+austere young ruler of the household. Hugo pilfered, lied, cringed,
+stormed, in turn, like a veritable savage. He was sent to school, and
+learned the wisdom of keeping his tongue silent, and his evil deeds
+concealed, but he did not learn to amend his ways. In spite of his
+frequent misconduct, he had some qualities which endeared him to the
+hearts of those whom he cared to conciliate. His <i>naïvete</i>, his
+caressing ways, his beautiful, delicate face and appealing eyes, were
+not without effect even upon the severest of his judges. Owing, perhaps,
+to these attributes rather than to any positive merit of his own, he
+scrambled through life at school, at a tutor's, at a military college,
+without any irreparable disgrace, his aptitude for getting into scrapes
+being equalled only by his cleverness in getting out of them. Richard,
+indeed, had at times received reports of his conduct which made him
+speak angrily and threaten condign punishment, but not until this day,
+when the discovery of the lost bank-notes in Hugo's possession betokened
+an absence of principle transcending even Richard's darkest
+anticipations, had any serious breach occurred between the cousins. With
+some men, the fact that it was the first grave offence would have had
+weight, and inclined them to be merciful to the offender, but Richard
+Luttrell was not a merciful man. When he discovered wrong-doing, he
+punished it with the utmost severity, and never trusted the culprit
+again. He had been known to say, in boasting accents, that he did not
+understand what forgiveness meant. Forgiveness of injuries? Weakness of
+mind: that was his opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo Luttrell's nature was also not a forgiving one. He lay upon the
+grass, writhing, sobbing, tearing at the ground in an access of passion
+equally composed of rage and shame. He had almost lost the remembrance
+of his own offence in resentment of its punishment. He had been struck;
+he had been insulted; he, a Sicilian gentleman! (Hugo never thought of
+himself as an Englishman.) He loathed Richard Luttrell; he muttered
+curses upon him as he lay on the earth, with every bone aching from his
+cousin's blows; he wished that he could wipe out the memory of the
+affront in Richard's blood. Richard would laugh at a challenge; a duel
+was not the English method of settling quarrels. "I will punish him in
+another way; it is a <i>vendetta</i>!" said Hugo to himself, choking down his
+passionate, childish sobs. "He is a brute&mdash;a great, savage brute; he
+does not deserve to live!"</p>
+
+<p>He was too much absorbed in his reflections to notice a footstep on the
+grass beside him, and the rustle of a woman's dress. Some one had drawn
+near, and was looking pityingly, wonderingly, down upon the slight,
+boyish form that still shook and quivered with irrepressible emotion. A
+woman's voice sounded in his ear. "Hugo!" it said; "Hugo, what is the
+matter?"</p>
+
+<p>With a start he lifted his head, showed a flushed, tear-swollen
+countenance for one moment, and then hid it once more in his hands. "Oh,
+Angela, Angela!" he cried; and then the hysterical passion mastered him
+once more. He could not speak for sobs.</p>
+
+<p>She knelt down beside him and placed one hand soothingly upon his
+ruffled, black locks. For a few minutes she also did not speak. She knew
+that he could not hear.</p>
+
+<p>The world was not wrong when it called Angela Vivian a beautiful woman,
+although superfine critics objected that her features were not perfect,
+and that her hair, her eyes, her complexion, were all too colourless for
+beauty. But her great charm lay in the harmonious character of her
+appearance. To deepen the tint of that soft, pale hair&mdash;almost
+ash-coloured, with a touch of gold in the heavy coils&mdash;to redden her
+beautifully-shaped mouth, and her narrow, oval face, to imagine those
+sweet, calm, grey eyes of any more definite shade would have been to
+make her no longer the Angela Vivian that so many people knew and loved.
+But if fault were found with her face, no exception could be taken to
+her figure and the grace with which she moved. There, at least, she was
+perfect.</p>
+
+<p>Angela Vivian was twenty-three, and still unmarried. It was said that
+she had been difficult to please. But her choice was made at last. She
+was to be married to Richard Luttrell before the end of the year. They
+had been playmates in childhood, and their parents had been old friends.
+Angela was now visiting Mrs. Luttrell, who was proud of her son's
+choice, and made much of her as a guest at Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke to Hugo as a sister might have done.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, dear?" she asked him, smoothing out his short, dark curls,
+as she spoke. "Can't you tell me? Is it some great trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>For answer he dragged himself a little closer to her, and bowed his hot
+forehead on one of her hands, which she was resting on the ground, while
+she stroked his hair with the other. The action touched her; she did not
+know why. His sobs were quietening. He was by no means very manly, as
+English people understand manliness, but even he was ashamed to be found
+crying like a baby over his woes.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Hugo, can you not tell me what is wrong?" said Angela, more
+seriously alarmed by his silence than by his tears. She had a right to
+question him, for he had previously given her as much of his confidence
+as he ever gave to anybody, and she had been a very good friend to him.
+"Are you in some great trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, in a voice so choked that she could hardly hear the
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have been in some scuffle surely. Your clothes are torn&mdash;you
+are hurt!" said she, sympathetically. "Why, Hugo, you must have been
+fighting!" Then, as he gave her no answer, she resumed in a voice of
+tender concern, "You are not really hurt, are you, dear boy? You can
+move&mdash;you can get up? Shall I fetch anyone to help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no!" he cried, clutching at her dress, as though to stay her
+going. "Don't leave me. I am not hurt&mdash;at least, I can walk and stand
+easily enough, though I have been hurt&mdash;set upon, and treated like&mdash;like
+a dog by him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By whom, Hugo?" said Angela, startled by the tenor of his incoherent
+sentences. "Who has set upon you and ill-treated you?"</p>
+
+<p>But Hugo hid his face. "I won't tell you," he said, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. "Can I do anything for you?" Angela asked at
+length, very gently.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>She waited a little longer, and, as he made no further sign, she tried
+to rise. "Shall I go, Hugo?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;if you like." Then he burst out passionately, "Of course, you will
+go. You are like everybody else. You are like Richard Luttrell. You will
+do what he tells you. I am abandoned by everybody. You all hate me; and
+I hate you all!"</p>
+
+<p>Little as Angela understood his words, there was something in them that
+made her seat herself beside him on the grass, instead of leaving him
+alone. "Dear Hugo," she said, "I have never hated you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will soon."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said she, softly. "I understand you now. You are in
+trouble&mdash;you have been doing something wrong, and you think that we
+shall be angry with you. Listen, Hugo, Richard maybe angry at first, but
+he is kind as well as just. He will forgive you, and we shall love you
+as much as ever. I will tell him that you are sorry for whatever it is,
+and then he will not refuse his pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it," said Hugo, hoarsely. "I hate him."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo!"</p>
+
+<p>"I hate him&mdash;I loathe him. You would hate him, too, if you knew him as
+well as I do. You are going to marry him! Well, you will be miserable
+all your life long, and then you will remember what I say."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be angry with you if I did not know how little you meant
+this," said Angela, in an unruffled voice, although the faint colour had
+risen to her cheeks, and her eyes looked feverishly bright. "But you are
+not like yourself, Hugo; you are distressed about something. You know,
+at least, that we do not hate you, and you do not hate us."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not hate you," said Hugo, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>He seized a fold of her dress and pressed it to his lips. But he said
+nothing more, and by-and-bye, when she gently disengaged her gown from
+his hold, he made no opposition to her going. She left him with
+reluctance, but she knew that Mrs. Luttrell would want her at that hour,
+and did not like to be kept waiting. She glanced back when she reached
+the bend in the road that would hide him from her sight. She saw that he
+had resumed his former position, with his head bent upon his arms, and
+his face hidden.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Hugo!" she said to herself, as she turned towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>Netherglen was a quaint-looking, irregular building of grey, stone, not
+very large, but considerably larger than its appearance led one to
+conjecture, from the fact that a wing had been added at the back of the
+house, where it was not immediately apparent. The peculiarity of this
+wing was that, although built close to the house, it did not actually
+touch it except at certain points where communication with the main part
+was necessary; the rooms on the outer wing ran parallel for some
+distance with those in the house, but were separated by an interval of
+one or two feet. This was a precaution taken, it was said, in order to
+deaden the noise made by the children when they were in the nurseries
+situated in this part of the house. It had certainly been an effectual
+one; it was difficult to hear any sound proceeding from these rooms,
+even when one stood in the large central hall from which the
+sitting-rooms opened.</p>
+
+<p>Angela was anxious to find Richard and ascertain whether or not he was
+really seriously incensed against his cousin, but he was not to be
+found. A party of guests had arrived unexpectedly for luncheon; Mrs.
+Luttrell and Brian were both busily engaged in entertaining them. Angela
+glanced at Brian; it struck her that he was not in his usual good
+spirits. But she had no chance of asking him if anything were amiss.</p>
+
+<p>The master of the house arrived in time to take his place at the head of
+the table, and from the moment of his arrival, Angela was certain that
+he had been, if he were not still, seriously annoyed by some occurrence
+of the day. She knew his face very well, and she knew the meaning of the
+gleam of his eye underneath the lowered eyebrows, the twitching nostril,
+and the grim setting of his mouth. He spoke very little, and did not
+smile even when he glanced at her. These were ominous signs.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Hugo?" demanded Mrs. Luttrell as they seated themselves at the
+table. "Have you seen him, Brian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I saw him down by the loch this morning," said Brian, but without
+raising his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The bell had better be rung outside the house," said Mrs. Luttrell. "It
+can be heard quite well on the loch."</p>
+
+<p>"It is unnecessary, mother," said Richard, promptly. "Hugo is not coming
+in to lunch."</p>
+
+<p>There was a momentary flash of his eye as he spoke, which convinced
+Angela that Hugo's disgrace was to be no transient one. Her heart sank;
+she did not find that Richard's wrath was easy to appease when once
+thoroughly aroused. Again she looked at Brian, and it seemed to her that
+his face was paler and more sombre than she had ever seen it before.</p>
+
+<p>The brothers were usually on such pleasant terms that their silence to
+each other during the meal became a matter of remark to others beside
+Angela and Mrs. Luttrell. Had they quarrelled? There was an evident
+coolness between them; for, on the only occasion on which they addressed
+each other, Richard contemptuously contradicted his brother with
+insulting directness, and Brian replied with what for him was decided
+warmth. But the matter dropped&mdash;perhaps each was ashamed of having
+manifested his annoyance in public&mdash;and only their silence to each other
+betrayed that anything was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>The party separated into three portions after luncheon. Mrs. Luttrell
+and a lady of her own age agreed to remain indoors, or to stroll quietly
+round the garden. Angela and two or three other young people meant to
+get out the boat and fish the loch for pike. Richard and a couple of his
+friends were going to shoot in the neighbouring woods. And, while these
+arrangements were making, and everybody was standing about the hall, or
+in the wide porch which opened out into the garden, Hugo's name was
+again mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>"What has become of that boy?" said Mrs. Luttrell. "He is not generally
+so late. Richard, do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you afterwards, mother," answered her son, in a low tone.
+"Don't say anything more about him just now."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything wrong?" said his mother, also lowering her voice. But
+he had turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian, what is it?" she asked, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, don't ask Brian," said Richard, looking back over
+his shoulder, "there is no knowing what he may not require you to
+believe. Leave the story to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I've no desire to tell it," replied Brian, moving away.</p>
+
+<p>Luttrell's friends were already outside the hall door, lighting their
+cigars and playing with the dogs. A keeper stood in the background,
+waiting until the party should start.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you coming, Brian?" said one of the young men.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll join you presently," said Brian. "I am going down to the loch
+first to get out the boat."</p>
+
+<p>"What a splendid gun that is of yours!" said Archie Grant, the younger
+of the two men. "It is yours, is it not? I saw it in the corner of the
+hall as I came in. You had it the other day at the Duke's."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not mine. It belongs to Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me have a look at it again; it's an awfully fine one."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you ready, Grant?" said Richard Luttrell, coming forward. "What are
+you looking for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing; a gun," said the young fellow. "I see it's gone. I thought
+it was there when I first came in; it's of no consequence."</p>
+
+<p>"Not your own gun, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; I have my own. It was Hugo's."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; rather a fine one," said Richard, indifferently. "You're not
+coming, then?"&mdash;to Brian&mdash;"well, perhaps it's as well." And he marched
+away without deigning to bestow another look or word upon his brother.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Luttrell and Angela encountered each other
+in a passage leading to one of the upper rooms. No one was near. Mrs.
+Luttrell&mdash;she was a tall, handsome woman, strikingly like Richard, in
+spite of her snow-white hair&mdash;laid her hand gently on Angela's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you look so pale, Angela?" she said. "Your eyes are red, child.
+Have you been crying because those ill-bred lads of mine could not keep
+a still tongue in their heads at the luncheon-table, but must needs
+wrangle together as they used to when they were just babies? Never you
+mind, my dear; it's not Richard's fault, and Brian was always a
+troublesome lad. It will be better for us all when he's away at his
+books in London."</p>
+
+<p>She patted Angela's shoulder and passed on, leaving the girl more vexed
+than comforted. She was sorry to see Mrs. Luttrell show the partiality
+for Richard which everyone accused her of feeling. In the mother's eyes,
+Richard was always right and Brian wrong. Angela was just enough to be
+troubled at times by this difference in the treatment of the brothers.</p>
+
+<p>Brian went down to the loch ostensibly to get out the boat. In reality
+he wanted to see whether Hugo was still there. Richard had told him of
+the punishment to which he had subjected the lad; and Brian had been
+frankly indignant about it. The two had come to high words; thus there
+had, indeed, been some foundation for the visitors' suspicions of a
+previous quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo had disappeared; only the broken brushwood and the crushed bracken
+told of the struggle that had taken place, and of the boy's agony of
+grief and rage. Brian resolved to follow and find him. He did not like
+the thought of leaving him to bear his shame alone. Besides, he
+understood Hugo's nature, and he was afraid&mdash;though he scarcely knew
+what he feared.</p>
+
+<p>But he searched in vain. Hugo was not to be found. He did not seem to
+have quitted the place altogether, for he had given no orders about his
+luggage, nor been seen on the road to the nearest town, and Brian knew
+that it would be almost impossible to find him in a short space of time
+if he did not wish to be discovered. It was possible that he had gone
+into the woods; he was as fond of them as a wild animal of his lair.
+Brian took his gun from the rack, as an excuse for an expedition, then
+sallied forth, scarcely hoping, however, to be successful in his search.</p>
+
+<p>He had not gone very far when he saw a man's form at some little
+distance from him, amongst the trees. He stopped short and
+reconnoitered. No, it was not Hugo. That brown shooting-coat and those
+stalwart limbs belonged rather to Richard Luttrell. Brian looked,
+shrugged his shoulders to himself, and then turned back. He did not want
+to meet his brother then.</p>
+
+<p>But Richard had heard the footstep and glanced round. After a moment of
+evident hesitation, he quitted his position and tramped over the soft,
+uneven ground to his brother, who, seeing that he had been observed,
+awaited his brother's coming with some uncertainty of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>Richard's face had wonderfully cleared since the morning, and his voice
+was almost cordial.</p>
+
+<p>"You've come? That's right," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Got anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing much. I never saw young Grant shoot so wild. And my hand's not
+very steady&mdash;after this morning's work." He laughed a little awkwardly
+and looked away. "That fellow deserved all he got, Brian. But if you
+choose to see him now and then and be friendly with him, it's your own
+look out. I don't wish to interfere."</p>
+
+<p>It was a great concession from Richard&mdash;almost as much as an apology.
+Brian involuntarily put out his hand, which Richard grasped heartily if
+roughly. Neither of them found it necessary to say more. The mutual
+understanding was complete, and each hastily changed the subject, as
+though desirous that nothing farther should be said about it.</p>
+
+<p>If only some one had been by to witness that tacit reconciliation!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE TWILIGHT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was already dusk under the thick branches of the wood, although the
+setting sun shone brilliantly upon the loch. Luttrell's friends were to
+dine with him, and as dinner was not until eight o'clock, they made
+rather a long circuit, and had some distance to return. Brian had joined
+Archie Grant; the second visitor was behind them with the keeper;
+Richard Luttrell had been accidentally separated from the others, and
+was supposed to be in front. Archie was laughing and talking gaily;
+Brian, whose mind ran much upon Hugo, was somewhat silent. But even he
+was no proof against Archie's enthusiasm, when the young fellow suddenly
+seized him by the arm, and pointed out a fine capercailzie which the
+dogs had just put up.</p>
+
+<p>Brian gave a quick glance to his companion, who, however, had handed his
+gun to the keeper a short time before, and shook his head deprecatingly.
+Brian lifted his gun. It seemed to him that something was moving amongst
+the branches beyond the bird, and for a moment he hesitated&mdash;then pulled
+the trigger. And just as he touched it, Archie sprang forward with a
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't fire! Are you blind? Don't you see what you are doing!"</p>
+
+<p>But it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>The bird flew away unharmed, but the shot seemed to have found another
+mark. There was the sound of a sudden, heavy fall. To Brian's horror and
+dismay he saw that a man had been standing amongst the brushwood and
+smaller trees just beyond the ridge of rising ground towards which his
+gun had been directed. The head only of this man could have been visible
+from the side of the bank on which Brian was standing; and even the head
+could be seen very indistinctly. As Brian fired, it seemed to him,
+curiously enough, as if another report rang in his ears beside that of
+his own gun. Was any one else shooting in the wood? Or had his senses
+played him false in the horror of the moment, and caused him to mistake
+an echo for another shot? He had not time to settle the question. For a
+moment he stood transfixed; then he rushed forward, but Archie had been
+before him. The young man was kneeling by the prostrate form and as
+Brian advanced, he looked up with a face as white as death.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep back," he cried, scarcely knowing what he said. "Don't look&mdash;don't
+look, for a moment; perhaps he'll open his eyes: perhaps he is not dead.
+Keep back!"</p>
+
+<p>Dead! Brian never forgot the sick feeling of dread which then came over
+him. What had he done? He did not hear Archie's excited words; he came
+hurriedly to the side of the man, who lay lifeless upon the ground with
+his head on the young fellow's knee. Archie looked up at him with
+dilated terrified eyes. And Brian stood stock still.</p>
+
+<p>It was Richard who lay before him, dead as a stone. He had dropped
+without a cry, perhaps even without a pang. There was a little purple
+mark upon his temple, from which a drop of black blood had oozed. A
+half-smile still lingered on his mouth; his face had scarcely changed
+colour, his attitude was natural, and yet the spectators felt that Death
+had set his imprint on that tranquil brow. Richard Luttrell's day was
+over; he had gone to a world where he might perhaps stand in need of
+that mercy which he had been only too ready to deny to others who had
+erred.</p>
+
+<p>Archie's elder brother, Donald Grant, and the keeper were hurrying to
+the spot. They found Brian on his knees beside the body, feeling with
+trembling hands for the pulse that beat no longer. His face was the
+colour of ashes, but as yet he had not uttered a single word. Donald
+Grant spoke first, with an anxious glance towards his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"How&mdash;&mdash;" he began, and then stopped short, for Archie had silenced him
+with an almost imperceptible sign towards Brian Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>"We heard two shots," muttered Donald, as he also bent over the
+prostrate form.</p>
+
+<p>"Only one, I think," said Archie.</p>
+
+<p>His brother pulled him aside.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you I heard two," he said in a hushed voice. "You didn't fire?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had no gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it Brian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He shot straight at&mdash;at Richard; didn't see him a bit. He was
+always short-sighted."</p>
+
+<p>Donald gave his brother a look, and then turned to the keeper, whose
+face was working with unwonted emotion at the sight before him.</p>
+
+<p>"We must get help," he said, gravely. "He must be carried home, and some
+one must go to Dunmuir. Brian, shall I send to the village for you?"</p>
+
+<p>He touched Brian's shoulder as he spoke. The young man rose, and turned
+his pale face and lack-lustre eyes towards his friend as though he could
+not understand the question. Donald, repeated it, changing the form a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I send for the men?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Brian pressed his hand to his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"The men?" he said, vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"To carry&mdash;him to the house."</p>
+
+<p>Donald was compassionate, but he was uncomprehending of his friend's
+apparent want of emotion. He wanted to stir him up to a more definite
+show of feeling. And to some extent he got his wish.</p>
+
+<p>A look of horror came into Brian's eyes; a shudder ran through his
+frame.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my God!" he whispered, hoarsely, "is it I who have done this
+thing?"</p>
+
+<p>And then he threw up his hands as though to screen his eyes from the
+sight of the dead face, staggered a few steps away from the little
+group, and fell fainting to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad procession that wound its way through the woodland paths at
+last, and stopped at the gate of Netherglen. Brian had recovered
+sufficiently to walk like a mourner behind the covered stretcher on
+which his brother's form was laid; but he paid little attention to the
+whispers that were exchanged from time to time between the Grants and
+the men who carried that melancholy burden to the Luttrells' door. On
+coming to himself after his swoon he wept like a child for a little
+time, but had then collected himself and become sadly quiet and calm.
+Still, he was scarcely awake to anything but the mere fact of his great
+misfortune, and it was not until the question was actually put to him,
+that he asked himself whether he could bear to take the news to his
+mother of the death of her eldest son.</p>
+
+<p>Brave as he was, he shrank from the task. "No, no!" he said, looking
+wildly into Donald's face. "Not I. I am not the one to tell her, that
+I&mdash;that I&mdash;&mdash;-"</p>
+
+<p>A great sob burst from him in spite of his usual self-control. Donald
+Grant turned aside; he did not know how to bear the spectacle of grief
+such as this. And there were others to be thought of beside Mrs.
+Luttrell. Miss Vivian&mdash;Richard Luttrell's promised wife&mdash;was in the
+house; Donald Grant's own sisters were still waiting for him and Archie.
+It was impossible to go up to the house without preparing its tenants
+for the blow that had fallen upon them. Yet who would prepare them?</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the doctor," said Archie, turning towards the road. "He will
+tell them."</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Muir had long been a trusted friend of the Luttrell family. He
+had liked Richard rather less than any other member of the household,
+but he was sincerely grieved and shocked by the news which had greeted
+him as he went upon his rounds. The Grants drew him aside and gave him
+their account of the accident before he spoke to Brian. The doctor had
+tears in his eyes when they had finished. He went up to Brian and
+pressed his unresponsive hand.</p>
+
+<p>"My boy&mdash;my boy!" he said; "don't be cast down. It was the will of God."
+He pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed away a tear from his eyes as he
+spoke. "Shall I just see your poor mother? I'll step up to the house,
+and ye'll wait here till my return. Eh, but it's awful, awful!" The old
+man uttered the last words more to himself than to Brian, whose hand he
+again shook mechanically before he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Brian followed him closely. "Doctor," he said, in a low, husky voice,
+"I'll go with you."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Dr. Muir, sharply. "Why, man, your
+face would be enough to tell the news, in all conscience. You may walk
+to the door with me&mdash;the back door, if you please&mdash;but further you shall
+not come until I have seen Mistress Luttrell. Here, give me your arm;
+you're not fit to go alone with that white face. And how did it happen,
+my poor lad?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;I can't tell," said Brian, slowly. "I saw the bird rise
+from the bank&mdash;and then I saw something moving&mdash;but I thought I must be
+mistaken; and I fired, and he&mdash;he fell! By my hand, too! Oh, Doctor, is
+there a God in Heaven to let such things be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hut, tut, tut, but we'll have no such words as these, my bairn. If the
+Lord lets these things happen, we'll maybe find that He's had some good
+reason for't. He's always in the right. And ye must just learn to bow
+yourself, Brian, to the will of the Almighty, for there's no denying but
+He's laid a sore trial upon ye, my poor lad, and one that will be hard
+to bear."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never bear it," said Brian, who caught but imperfectly the
+drift of the doctor's simple words of comfort. "It is too hard&mdash;too hard
+to bear."</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the back door, by which Dr. Muir preferred to make his
+entrance. He uttered a few words to the servants about the accident that
+had occurred, and then sent a message asking to speak alone with Mrs.
+Luttrell. The answer came back that Mrs. Luttrell would see him in the
+study. And thither the doctor went, leaving Brian in one of the cold,
+stone corridors that divided the kitchens and offices from the
+living-rooms of the house. Meanwhile, the body of Richard Luttrell was
+silently carried into one of the lower rooms until another place could
+be prepared for its reception.</p>
+
+<p>How long Brian waited, with his forehead, pressed against the wall, deaf
+and blind to everything but an overmastering dread of his mother's agony
+which had taken complete possession of him, he did not know. He only
+knew that after a certain time&mdash;an eternity it seemed to him&mdash;a bitter,
+wailing cry came to his ears; a cry that pierced through the thick walls
+and echoed down the dark passages, although it was neither loud nor
+long. But there was something in the intensity of the grief that it
+expressed which seemed to give it a peculiarly penetrating quality. Ah,
+it was this sound that Brian now knew he had been dreading; this sound
+that cut him to the heart.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Muir, on coming hurriedly out from the study, found Brian in the
+corridor with his hands pressed to his ears as if to keep out the sound
+of that one fearful cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Come away, my boy," he said, pitifully. "We can do no good here. Where
+is Miss Vivian?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian's hands dropped to his sides. He kept his eyes fixed on the
+doctor's face as if he would read his very soul. And for the moment
+Doctor Muir could not meet that piercing gaze. He tried to pass on, but
+Brian laid his hand on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all," he said. "What does my mother say? Has it killed her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Killed her? People are not so easily killed by grief, my dear Mr.
+Brian," said the doctor. "Come away, come away. Your mother is not just
+herself, and speaks wildly, as mothers are wont to do when they lose
+their first-born son. We'll not mind what she says just now. Where is
+Miss Vivian? It is she that I want to see."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," said Brian, taking away his hands from the doctor's arm
+and hiding his face with them, "my mother will not see me; she will not
+forgive my&mdash;my&mdash;accursed carelessness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Worse than that!" muttered the doctor to himself, but, fortunately,
+Brian did not hear. And at that moment a slender woman's figure appeared
+at the end of the corridor; it hesitated, moved slowly forward, and then
+approached them hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mrs. Luttrell ill?" asked Angela.</p>
+
+<p>She had a candle in her hand, and the beams fell full upon her soft,
+white dress and the Eucharis lily in her hair. She had twisted a string
+of pearls three times round her neck&mdash;it was an heirloom of great value.
+The other ornaments were all Richard's gifts; two broad bands of gold
+set with pearls and diamonds upon her arms, and the diamond ring which
+had been the pledge of her betrothal. She was very pale, and her eyes
+were large with anxiety as she asked her question of the two men, whom
+her appearance had struck with dumbness. Brian turned away with a
+half-audible groan. Doctor Muir looked at her intently from beneath his
+shaggy, grey eyebrows, and did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I know there is something wrong, or you would not stand like this
+outside Mrs. Luttrell's door," said Angela, with a quiver in her sweet
+voice. "And Richard is not here! Where is Richard?"</p>
+
+<p>There was silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Something has happened to Richard? Some accident&mdash;some&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped, looked at Brian's averted face, and shivered as if an icy
+wind had passed over her. Doctor Muir took the candle from her hand,
+then opened his lips to speak. But she stopped him. "Don't tell me," she
+said. "I am going to his mother. I shall learn it in a moment from her
+face. Besides&mdash;I know&mdash;I know."</p>
+
+<p>The delicate tinting had left her cheeks and lips; her eyes were
+distended, her limbs trembled as she moved. Doctor Muir stood aside,
+giving her the benefit of keen professional scrutiny as she passed; but
+he was satisfied. She was not a woman who would either faint or scream
+in an emergency. She might suffer, but she would suffer in silence
+rather than add by word or deed one iota to the burden of suffering that
+another might have to bear. Therefore, Doctor Muir let her enter the
+room in which the widowed mother wept, and prayed in his heart that
+Angela Vivian might receive the news of her bereavement in a different
+spirit from that shown by Mrs. Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of shuffling feet, of muffled voices, of stifled sobs, reached
+the ears of the watchers in the corridor from another part of the house.
+Doctor Muir had sent a messenger to bid the men advance with their sad
+burden to a side door which opened into a sitting-room not very
+generally used. The housekeeper, an old and faithful servant of the
+family, had already prepared it, according to the doctor's orders, for
+the reception of the dead. The visitors hurriedly took their departure;
+Donald Grant's wagonette had been at the door some little time, and, as
+soon as he had seen poor Richard Luttrell's remains laid upon a long
+table in the sitting-room, he drove silently away, with Archie on the
+box-seat beside him, and the three girls in the seats behind, crying
+over the troubles of their friends.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Muir and Brian Luttrell remained for some time in the passage
+outside the study door. The doctor tried several times to persuade his
+companion to leave his post, but Brian refused to do so.</p>
+
+<p>"I must wait; I must see my mother," he repeated, when the doctor
+pressed him to come away. "Oh, I know that she will not want to see me;
+she will never wish to look on my face again, but I must see her and
+remind her that&mdash;that&mdash;she has one son left&mdash;who loves her still." And
+then Brian's voice broke and he said no more. Doctor Muir shook his
+head. He did not believe that Mrs. Luttrell would be much comforted by
+his reminder. She had never seemed to love her second son.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Hugo?" the doctor asked, in an undertone, when the silence had
+lasted some time.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"He will be home to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>All this time no sound had reached them from the interior of the room
+where the two women sat together. Their voices must have been very low,
+their sobs subdued. Angela had not cried out as Mrs. Luttrell had done
+when she received the fatal news. No movement, no sign of grief was to
+be heard.</p>
+
+<p>Brian lifted up his grief-stricken eyes at last, and fixed them on the
+doctor's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they dead?" he muttered, strangely. "Will they never speak again?"</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Muir did not immediately reply. He had placed the candle on a
+wooden bracket in the wall, and its flickering beams lighted, the dark
+corridor so feebly that until now he had scarcely caught a glimpse of
+the young man's haggard looks. They frightened him a little. He himself
+took life so easily&mdash;fretted so little against the inevitable&mdash;that he
+scarcely understood the look of anguish which an hour or two of trouble
+had imprinted upon Brian Luttrell's face. It was the kind of sorrow
+which has been known to turn a man's hair from black to white in a
+single night.</p>
+
+<p>"I will knock at the door," said the doctor. But before he could carry
+out his intention, footsteps were heard, and the handle of the door was
+turned. Both men drew back involuntarily into the shadow as Mrs.
+Luttrell and Angela came forth.</p>
+
+<p>Angela had been weeping, but there were no signs of tears upon the elder
+woman's face. Rigid, white, and hard, it looked almost as if it were
+carved in stone; a mute image of misery too deep for tears. There were
+lines upon her brow that had never been seen there before; her lips were
+tightly compressed; her eyes fiercely bright. She had thrown a black
+shawl over her head on coming away from the drawing-room into the
+draughty corridors. This shawl, which she had forgotten to remove,
+together with the dead blackness of her dress, gave her pale face a
+strangely spectral appearance. Clinging to her, and yet guiding her,
+came Angela, with the white flower crushed and drooping from her hair.
+She also was ashy pale, but there was a more natural and tender look of
+grief to be read in her wet eyes and on her trembling lips than in the
+stony tranquility of Richard Luttrell's mother.</p>
+
+<p>Brian could not contain himself. He rushed forward and threw himself on
+the ground at his mother's feet. Mrs. Luttrell shrank back a little and
+clutched Angela's arm fiercely with her thin, white fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, speak to me; tell me that you&mdash;mother, only speak!"</p>
+
+<p>His voice died away in irrepressible sobs which shook him from head to
+foot. He dared not utter the word "forgiveness" yet. Unintentional as
+the harm might be that his hand had done, it was sadly irreparable, too.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell looked at him with scarcely a change of feature, and tried
+to withdraw some stray fold of her garments from his grasp. He resisted;
+he would not let her go. His heart was aching with his own trouble, and
+with the consciousness of her loss&mdash;Angela's loss&mdash;all the suffering
+that Richard's death would inflict upon these two women who had loved
+him so devotedly. He yearned for one little word of comfort and
+affection, which even in that terrible moment, a mother should have
+known so well how to give. But he lay at that mother's feet in vain.</p>
+
+<p>It was Angela who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak to him, mother," she said, tremblingly. "See how he suffers. It
+was not his fault."</p>
+
+<p>The tears ran down her pale cheeks unnoticed as she spoke. It was only
+natural to Angela that her first words should be words of consolation to
+another, not of sorrow for her own great loss. But Mrs. Luttrell did not
+unclose her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye'll not be hard upon him, madam," said the old doctor, deprecatingly.
+"Your own lad, and a lad that kneels to you for a gentle word, and will
+be heartbroken if you say him nay."</p>
+
+<p>"And is my heart not broken?" asked the mother, lifting her head and
+looking away into the darkness of the long corridor. "The son that I
+loved is dead; the boy that came to me like a little angel in the spring
+of my youth&mdash;they say that he is dead and cold. I am going to look at
+his face again. Come, Angela. Perhaps they have spoken falsely, and he
+is alive&mdash;not murdered, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Murdered? Mother!"</p>
+
+<p>Brian raised himself a little and repeated the word with shuddering
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Murdered!" said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily, as she turned her burning eyes
+full upon the countenance of her younger son; as if to watch the
+workings of his agitated features. "If not by the laws of man, by God's
+laws you are guilty. You had quarrelled with him that day; and you took
+your revenge. I tell you, James Muir, and you, Angela Vivian, that Brian
+Luttrell took his brother's life by no mistake&mdash;that he is Richard's
+murderer&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I swear it by the God who made me&mdash;no!" cried Brian, springing to
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>But his mother had turned away.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>About ten o'clock at night Hugo Luttrell was seen entering the courtyard
+at the back of the house, where keepers, grooms, and indoor servants
+were collected in a group, discussing in low tones the event of the day.
+Seeing these persons, he seemed inclined to go back by the way that he
+had come; but the butler&mdash;an old Englishman who had been in the Luttrell
+family before Edward Luttrell ever thought of marrying a Scotch heiress
+and settling for the greater part of every year at Netherglen&mdash;this said
+butler, whose name was William Whale, caught sight of the young fellow
+and accosted him by name.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hugo, sir, there's been many inquiries after you," he began in a
+lugubrious tone of voice.</p>
+
+<p>"After me, William?" Hugo looked frightened and uneasy. "What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"You won't have heard of the calamity that has come upon the house,"
+said William, shaking his head solemnly; "and it will be a great shock
+to you, no doubt, sir; a terrible shock. Stand back, you men, there; let
+Mr. Hugo pass. Come into the housekeeper's room, sir. There's a fire in
+it; the night has turned chilly. Go softly, if you please, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo followed the old man without another question. He looked haggard
+and wearied; his clothes were wet, torn and soiled; his very hair was
+damp, and his boots were soaked and burst as though from a long day's
+tramp. Mrs. Shairp, the housekeeper, with whom he was a favourite,
+uttered a startled exclamation at his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Guid guide us, sirs! and whaur hae ye been hidin' yoursel' a' this day
+an' nicht, Mr. Hugo? We've baen sair trouble i' th' hoose, and naebody
+kent your whaurabouts. Bairn! but ye're just droukit! Whaur hae you
+hidden yoursel' then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hidden!" Hugo repeated, catching at one of the good woman's words and
+ignoring the others. "I've not hidden anywhere. I've been over the hills
+a bit&mdash;that's all. What is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>He seated himself in the old woman's cushioned chair, and leaned forward
+to warm himself at the fire as he spoke, holding out first one hand and
+then the other to the leaping blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"How will I tell you?" said Mrs. Shairp, relapsing into the tears she
+had been shedding for the last two hours or more. "Is it possible that
+ye've heard naething ava? The laird&mdash;Netherglen himsel'&mdash;oor
+maister&mdash;and have you heard naething aboot him as you cam doun by the
+muir? I'd hae thocht shame to let you gang hame unkent, if I had been
+Jenny Burns at the lodge."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not come that way," said Hugo, impatiently. "What is the matter
+with the laird?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maitter?&mdash;maitter wi' the laird? The laird's deid, laddie, and a gude
+freend was he to me and mine, and to your ain sei' forbye, and the hale
+kintra side will be at the buryin'," said the housekeeper, shaking her
+head solemnly. "An' if that were na enow for my poor mistress there's a
+waur thing to follow. The laird's fa'en by his ain brither's han's. Mr.
+Brian shot him this verra nicht, as they cam' thro' the wud."</p>
+
+<p>"By mistake, Mrs. Shairp, by mistake," murmured William Whale. But Hugo
+lifted his haggard face, which looked very pale in the glow of the
+firelight.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't mean what you are saying," he said, in a hoarse, unnatural
+voice. "Richard? Richard&mdash;dead! Oh, it must be impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"True, sir, as gospel," said Mrs. Shairp, touched by the ring of pain
+that came into the young man's voice as he spoke. "At half-past eight,
+by the clock, they brought the laird hame stiff and stark, cauld as a
+stane a'ready. The mistress is clean daft wi' sorrow; an' I doot but Mr.
+Brian will hae a sair time o't wi' her and the bonny young leddy that's
+left ahent."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo dropped his face into his hands and did not answer. A shudder ran
+through his frame more than once. Mrs. Shairp thought that he was
+shedding tears, and motioned to William Whale, who had been standing
+near the door with a napkin over his arm, to leave the room. William
+retired shutting the door softly behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Hugo spoke. "Tell me about it," he said. And Mrs. Shairp was
+only too happy to pour into his ears the whole story as she had learned
+it from the keeper who had come upon the scene just after the firing of
+the fatal shot. He listened almost in silence, but did not uncover his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"And his mother?" he asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Shairp could say little about the laird's mother. It was Dr. Muir
+who had told her the truth, she said, and the whole house had heard her
+cry out as if she had been struck. Then Miss Vivian had gone to her, and
+had received the news from Mrs. Luttrell's own lips. They had gone
+together to look at Richard's face, and then Miss Vivian had fainted,
+and had been carried into Mrs. Luttrell's own room, where she was to
+spend the night. So much Mrs. Shairp knew, and nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>"And where is Brian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whaur should he be?" demanded the old woman, with some asperity. "Whaur
+but in's ain room, sair cast doun for the ill he has dune."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not his fault," said Hugo, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe no," replied Mrs. Shairp, with reserve. "Maybe ay, maybe no; it's
+just the question&mdash;though I wadna like to think that the lad meant to
+harm his brother."</p>
+
+<p>"Who does think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm no saying that onybody thinks sae. Mr. Brian was aye a kind-hearted
+lad an' a bonny, but never a lucky ane, sae lang as I hae kent him,
+which will be twenty years gane at Marti'mas. I cam' at the term."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo scarcely listened to her. He rose up with a strange, scared look
+upon his face, and walked unsteadily out of the room, without a word of
+thanks to Mrs. Shairp for her communications. Before she had recovered
+from her astonishment, he was far down the corridor on his way to the
+other portion of the house.</p>
+
+<p>In which room had they laid Richard Luttrell? Hugo remembered with a
+shiver that he had not asked. He glanced round the hall with a thrill of
+nervous apprehension. The drawing-room and dining-room doors stood open;
+they were in darkness. The little morning-room door was also slightly
+ajar, but a dim light seemed to be burning inside. It must be in that
+room, Hugo decided, that Richard Luttrell lay. Should he go in? No, he
+dare not. He could not look upon Richard Luttrell's dead face. And yet
+he hesitated, drawn by a curious fascination towards that half-open
+door.</p>
+
+<p>While he waited, the door was slowly opened from the inside, and a hand
+appeared clasping the edge of the door. A horrible fancy seized Hugo
+that Richard had risen from his bed and was coming out into the hall;
+that Richard's fingers were bent round the edge of the open door. He
+longed to fly, but his knees trembled; he could not move. He stood
+rooted to the spot with unreasoning terror, until the door opened still
+more widely, and the person who had been standing in the room came out.
+It was no ghostly Richard, sallying forth to upbraid Hugo for his
+misdeeds. It was Brian Luttrell who turned his pale face towards the boy
+as he passed through the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo cowered before him. He sank down on the lower steps of the wide
+staircase and hid his face in his hands. Brian, who had been passing him
+by without remark, seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and stopped
+short before his cousin. The lad's shrinking attitude touched him with
+pity.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right to come back," he said, in a voice which, although
+abstracted, was strangely calm. "He told you to leave the house for
+ever, did he not? But I think that&mdash;now&mdash;he would rather that you
+stayed. He told me that I might do for you what I chose."</p>
+
+<p>The lad's head was bent still lower. He did not say a word.</p>
+
+<p>"So," said Brian, leaning against the great oak bannisters as if he were
+utterly exhausted by fatigue, "so&mdash;if you stay&mdash;you will only be
+doing&mdash;what, perhaps, he wishes now. You need not be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"You are the master&mdash;now," murmured Hugo from between his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>It was the last speech that Brian would have expected to hear from his
+cousin's lips. It cut him to the heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say so!" he cried, in a stifled voice. "Good God! to think that
+I&mdash;I&mdash;should profit by my brother's death!" And Hugo, lifting up his
+head, saw that the young man's frame was shaken by shuddering horror
+from head to foot. "I shall never be master here," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo raised his head with a look of wonder. Brian's feeling was quite
+incomprehensible to him.</p>
+
+<p>"He was always a good brother to me," Brian went on in a shaken voice,
+more to himself than to his cousin, "and a kind friend to you so long as
+you kept straight and did not disgrace us by your conduct. You had no
+right to complain, whatever he might do or say to you. You ought to
+mourn for him&mdash;you ought to regret him bitterly&mdash;bitterly&mdash;while
+I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not you mourn for him, then?" said Hugo, when the pause that
+followed Brian's speech had become insupportable to him.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were only in his place I should be happy," said Brian,
+passionately. Then he turned upon Hugo with something like fierceness,
+but it was the fierceness of a prolonged and half-suppressed agony of
+pain. "Do you feel nothing? Do you come into his house, knowing that he
+is dead, and have not a word of sorrow for your own behaviour to him
+while he lived? Come with me and look at him&mdash;look at his face, and
+remember what he did for you when you were a boy&mdash;what he has done for
+you during the last eight years."</p>
+
+<p>He seized Hugo by the arm and compelled him to rise; but the lad, with a
+face blanched by terror, absolutely refused to move from the spot.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night&mdash;I can't&mdash;I can't!" he said, his dark eyes dilating, and
+his very lips turning white with fear. "To-morrow, Brian&mdash;not to-night."</p>
+
+<p>But Brian briefly answered, "Come," and tightened his grasp on the lad's
+arm. And Hugo, though trembling like an aspen leaf, yielded to that iron
+pressure, and followed him to the room where lay all that was mortal of
+Richard Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>Once inside the door, Brian dropped his cousin's arm, and seemed to
+forget his presence. He slowly removed the covering from the dead face
+and placed a candle so that the light fell upon it. Then he walked to
+the foot of the table, which served the purpose of a bier, and looked
+long and earnestly at the marble features, so changed, so passionless
+and calm in the repose of death! Terrible, indeed, was the sight to one
+who had sincerely loved Richard Luttrell&mdash;the strong man, full of lusty
+health and vigour, desirous of life, fortunate in the possession, of all
+that makes life worth living only a few short hours before; now silent,
+motionless for ever struck down in the hey-day of youth and strength,
+and by a brother's hand! Brian had but spoken the truth when he said
+that he would gladly change his own fate for that of his brother
+Richard. He forgot Hugo and the reason for which he had brought him to
+that room, he forgot everything except his own unavailing sorrow, his
+inextinguishable regret.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo remained where his cousin had left him, leaning against the wall,
+seemingly incapable of speech or motion, overcome by a superstitious
+terror of death, which Brian was as far from suspecting as of
+comprehending. In the utter silence of the house they could hear the
+distant stable-clock strike eleven. The wind was rising, and blew in
+fitful gusts, rustling the branches of the trees, and causing a loose
+rose-branch to tap carelessly against the window panes. It sounded like
+the knock of someone anxious to come in. The candles flickered and
+guttered in the draught; the wavering light cast strange shadows over
+the dead man's face. You might have thought that his features moved from
+time to time; that now he frowned at the intruders, and now he smiled at
+them&mdash;a terrible, ghastly smile.</p>
+
+<p>There was a footstep at the door. It was Mrs. Luttrell who came gliding
+in with her pale face, and her long black robes, to take her place at
+her dead son's side. She had thought that she must come and assure
+herself once more that he was really gone from her. She meant to look at
+him for a little while, to kiss his cold forehead, and then to go back
+to Angela and try to sleep. She took no notice of Brian, nor of Hugo;
+she drew a chair close to the long table upon which the still, white
+form was stretched, seated herself, and looked steadfastly at the
+uncovered face. Brian started at the sight of his mother; he glanced at
+her pleadingly, as if he would have spoken; but the rigidity of her face
+repelled him. He hung his head and turned a little from her, as though
+to steal away.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a terrible voice rang through the room. "Look!" cried the
+mother, pointing with one finger to the lifeless form, and raising her
+eyes for the first time to Brian's face&mdash;"look there!"</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked, and flinched from the sight he saw. For a strange thing
+had happened. Although not actually unusual, it had never before come
+within the experience of any of these watchers of the dead, and thus it
+suggested to them nothing but the old superstition which in old times
+caused a supposed murderer to be brought face to face with the man he
+was accused of having killed.</p>
+
+<p>A drop of blood was trickling from the nostril of the dead man, and
+losing itself in the thick, black moustache upon his upper lip. It was
+followed by another or two, and then it stayed.</p>
+
+<p>The mother did not speak again. Her hand sank; her eyes were riveted
+upon Brian's face with a mute reproach. And Brian, although he knew well
+enough in his sober senses that the phenomenon they had just seen was
+merely caused by the breaking of some small blood-vessel in the brain,
+such as often occurs after death, was so far dominated by the impression
+of the moment that he walked out of the room, not daring to justify
+himself in his mother's eyes, not daring to raise his head. After him
+crept Hugo whose teeth chattered as though he were suffering from an
+ague; but Brian took no more notice of his cousin. He went straight to
+his own room and locked himself in, to bear his lonely sorrow as best he
+might.</p>
+
+<p>No formal inquiry was made into the cause of Richard Luttrell's death.
+Archie Grant's testimony completely exonerated Brian, even of
+carelessness, and the general opinion was that no positive blame could
+be attached to anybody for the sad occurrence, and that Mr. Brian
+Luttrell had the full sympathy and respect of all who knew him and had
+known his lamented brother, Richard Luttrell of Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>So the matter ended. But idle tongues still wagged, and wise heads were
+shaken over the circumstances attending Richard Luttrell's death.</p>
+
+<p>It was partly Mrs. Luttrell's fault. In the first hours of her
+bereavement she had spoken wildly and bitterly of the share which Brian
+had had in causing Richard's death. She had spoken to Doctor Muir, to
+Angela, to Mrs. Shairp&mdash;a few words only to each, but enough to show in
+what direction her thoughts were tending. With the first two her words
+were sacred, but Mrs. Shairp, though kindly enough, was not so
+trustworthy. Before the good woman realised what she was doing, the
+whole household, nay, the whole country-side, had learned that Mrs.
+Luttrell believed her second son to have fired that fatal shot with the
+intention of killing, or at least of maiming, his brother Richard.</p>
+
+<p>The Grants, who had spent the day of the accident at Netherglen, were,
+of course, eagerly questioned by inquisitive acquaintances. The girls
+were ready enough to chatter. They confided to their intimate friends in
+mysterious whispers that the brothers had certainly not been on good
+terms; they had glowered at one another, and caught each other up and
+been positively rude to each other; and they would not go out together;
+and poor Mr. Luttrell looked so worried, so unlike himself! Then the
+brothers were interrogated, but proved less easy to "draw." Archie flew
+into a rage at the notion of sinister intentions on Brian's part. Donald
+looked "dour," and flatly refused to discuss the subject.</p>
+
+<p>But his refusal was thought vastly suspicious by the many wiseacres who
+knew the business of everybody better than their own. And the rumour
+waxed and spread.</p>
+
+<p>During the days before the funeral Brian scarcely saw anyone. He lived
+shut up in his own room, as his mother did in hers, and had interviews
+only with his lawyer and men who came on business. It was a sad and
+melancholy house in those days. Angela was invisible: whether it was she
+or Mrs. Luttrell who was ill nobody could exactly say. Hugo wandered
+about the lonely rooms, or shut himself up after the fashion of the
+other members of the family, and looked like a ghost. After the first
+two days, Angela's only near relation, her brother Rupert, was present
+in the house; but his society seemed not to be very acceptable to Hugo,
+and, finding that he was of no use, even to his sister, Mr. Vivian went
+back to England, and the house seemed quieter than it had been before.</p>
+
+<p>The funeral took place at last. When it was over, Brian came home, said
+farewell to the guests, had a long interview with Mr. Colquhoun, the
+solicitor, and then seated himself in the study with the air of a man
+who was resolved to take up the burden of his duties in a befitting
+spirit. His air was melancholy, but calm; he seemed aged by ten years
+since his brother's death. He dined with Hugo, Mr. Colquhoun and Dr.
+Muir, and exerted himself to talk of current topics with courtesy and
+interest. But his weary face, his saddened eyes, and the long pauses
+that occurred between his intervals of speech, produced a depressing
+effect upon his guests. Hugo was no more cheerful than his cousin. He
+watched Brian furtively from time to time, yet seemed afraid to meet his
+eye. His silence and depression were so marked that the doctor
+afterwards remarked it to Mr. Colquhoun. "I did not think that Mr. Hugo
+would take his cousin's death so much to heart," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he does?" asked Mr. Colquhoun, drily. "I don't believe
+he's got a heart, the young scamp. I found him myself in the wood,
+examining the bark of the tree near which the accident took place, you
+know, on the morning after Richard's death, as cool as a cucumber. 'I
+was trying to make out how it happened,' he said to me, when I came up.
+'Brian must have shot very straight.' I told him to go home and mind his
+own business."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think what they say about Brian's intentions had any
+foundation?" asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit. Brian's too tender-hearted for a thing of that sort. But the
+mother's very bitter about it. She's as hard as flint. It's a bad look
+out for Brian. He's a ruined man."</p>
+
+<p>"Not from a pecuniary point of view. The property goes to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he hasn't the strength to put up with the slights and the
+scandal which will go with it. He has the pluck, but not the physique.
+It's men like him that go out of their minds, or commit suicide, or die
+of heart-break&mdash;which you doctors call by some other name, of
+course&mdash;when the world's against them. He'll never stand it. Mark my
+words&mdash;Brian Luttrell won't be to the fore this time next year."</p>
+
+<p>"Where will he be, Colquhoun? Come, come, Brian's a fellow with brains.
+He won't do anything rash."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll be in his grave," said the lawyer, gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"Hell be enjoying himself in the metropolis," said the doctor. "He'll
+have a fine house and a pretty wife, and he'll laugh in our faces if we
+hint at your prophecies, Colquhoun. I should have had no respect at all
+for Brian Luttrell if he threw away his own life because he had
+accidentally taken that of another man."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," said the lawyer.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>MOTHER AND SON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Early on the following morning Brian received a message from his mother.
+It was the first communication that she had vouchsafed to him since the
+day of her eldest son's death. "Would he come to her dressing-room at
+eleven o'clock? She wished to consult him upon special business." Brian
+sent word that he would be with her at that hour, and then fell into
+anxious meditation as he sat at breakfast, with Hugo at the other end of
+the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go far away from the house, Hugo," he said at last, as he rose to
+leave the room. "I may want you in the course of the morning."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo looked up at him without answering. The lad had been studying a
+newspaper, with his head supported by his left hand, while his right
+played with his coffee cup or the morsels of food upon his plate. He did
+not seem to have much appetite. His great, dark eyes looked larger than
+usual, and were ringed with purple shadow; his lips were tremulous. "It
+was wonderful," as people said, "to see how that poor young fellow felt
+his cousin's death."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Brian thought so too, for he added, very gently&mdash;though when did
+he not speak gently?&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing wrong. I only want to make some arrangements with you
+for your future. Think a little about it before I speak to you."</p>
+
+<p>And then he went out of the room, and Hugo was left to his meditations,
+which were not of the most agreeable character, in spite of Brian's
+reassuring words.</p>
+
+<p>He pushed his plate and newspaper away from him impatiently; a frown
+showed itself on his beautiful, low brows.</p>
+
+<p>"What will he do for me? Anything definite, I wonder? Poor beggar, I'm
+sorry for him, but my position has been decidedly improved since that
+unlucky shot at Richard. Did he want him out of the way, I wonder? The
+gloomy look with which he goes makes about one imagine that he did. What
+a fool he must be!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo pushed back his chair and rose: a cynical smile curled his lips for
+a moment, but it changed by degrees into an expression of somewhat
+sullen discontent.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could sleep at nights," he said, moving slowly towards the
+window. "I've never been so wretchedly wakeful in all my life." Then he
+gazed out into the garden, but without seeing much of the scene that he
+gazed upon, for his thoughts were far away, and his whole soul was
+possessed by fear of what Brian would do or say.</p>
+
+<p>At eleven o'clock Brian made his way to his mother's dressing-room, an
+apartment which, although bearing that name, was more like an ordinary
+sitting-room than a dressing-room. He knocked, and was answered by his
+mother's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," she said. "Is it you, Brian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is I," Brian said, as he closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>He walked quietly to the hearth-rug, where he stood with one hand
+resting on the mantelpiece. It was a convenient attitude, and one which
+exposed him to no rebuffs. He was too wise to offer hand or cheek to his
+mother by way of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell was sitting on a sofa, with her back to the light. Brian
+thought that she looked older and more worn; there were fresh wrinkles
+upon her forehead, and marks of weeping and sleeplessness about her
+eyes, but her figure was erect as ever, as rigidly upright as if her
+backbone were made of iron. She was in the deepest possible mourning;
+even the handkerchief that she held in her hand was edged with two or
+three inches of black. Brian looked round for Angela; he had expected to
+find her with his mother, but she was not there. The door into Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room was partly open.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Angela?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Angela is not well. Could you expect her to be well after the terrible
+trial that has overtaken her?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian winced. He could make no reply to such a question. Mrs. Luttrell
+scored a triumph, and continued in her hard, incisive way:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"She is probably as well as she can hope to be under the circumstances.
+Her health has suffered&mdash;as mine also has suffered&mdash;under the painful
+dispensation which has been meted out to us. We do not repine. Hearts
+that are broken, that have no hopes, no joys, no pleasures in store for
+them in this life, are not eager to exhibit their sufferings. If I speak
+as I speak now, it is for the last and only time. It is right that you
+should hear me once."</p>
+
+<p>"I will hear anything you choose to say," answered Brian, heavily. "But,
+mother, be merciful. I have suffered, too."</p>
+
+<p>"We will pass over the amount of your suffering," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+"if you please. I have no doubt that it is very great, but I think that
+it will soon be assuaged. I think that you will soon begin to remember
+the many things that you gain by your brother's death&mdash;the social
+position, the assured income, the estate in Scotland which I brought to
+your father, as well as his own house of Netherglen&mdash;all the things for
+which men are only too ready to sell their souls."</p>
+
+<p>"All these things are nothing to me," sighed Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"They are a great deal in the world's eyes. You will soon find out how
+differently it receives you now from the way it received you a year&mdash;a
+month&mdash;a week&mdash;ago. You are a rich man. I wish you joy of your wealth.
+Everything goes to you except Netherglen itself; that is left in my
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, are you mad?" said her son, passionately. "Why do you talk to
+me in this way? I swear to you that I would give every hope and every
+joy that I ever possessed&mdash;I would give my life&mdash;to have Richard back
+again! Do you think I ever wanted to be rich through his death?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what you wanted," said Mrs. Luttrell, sternly. "I have no
+means of guessing."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this what you wished me to say?" said Brian, whose voice was hoarse
+and changed. "I said that I would listen&mdash;but, you might spare me these
+taunts, at least."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not taunt you. I wish only to draw attention to the difference
+between your position and my own. Richard's death brings wealth, ease,
+comfort to you; to me nothing but desolation. I am willing to allow the
+house of which I have been the mistress for so many years, of which I am
+legally the mistress still, to pass into your hands. I have lost my home
+as well as my sons. I am desolate."</p>
+
+<p>"Your sons! You have not lost both your sons, mother," pleaded Brian,
+with a note of bitter pain in his voice, as he came closer to her and
+tried in vain to take her icy hand. "Why do you think that you are no
+longer mistress of this house? You are as much mistress as you were in
+my father's time&mdash;in Richard's time. Why should there be a difference
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is this difference," said Mrs. Luttrell, coldly, "that I do not
+care to live in any house with you. It would be painful to me; that is
+all. If you desire to stay, I will go."</p>
+
+<p>Brian staggered back as if she had struck him in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to cast me off?" he almost whispered, for he could not find
+strength to speak aloud. "Am I not your son, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"You fill the place that a son should occupy," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+letting her hand rise and fall upon her lap, and looking away from
+Brian. "I can say no more. My son&mdash;my own son&mdash;the son that I
+loved"&mdash;(she paused, and seemed to recollect herself before she
+continued in a lower voice)&mdash;"the son that I loved&mdash;is dead."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. Brian seated himself and bowed his head upon his
+hands. "God help me!" she heard him mutter. But she did not relent.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he looked up and fixed his haggard eyes upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," he said, in hoarse and unnatural tones, "you have had your
+say; now let me have mine. I know too well what you believe. You think,
+because of a slight dispute which arose between us on that day, that I
+had some grudge against my brother. I solemnly declare to you that that
+is not true. Richard and I had differed; but we met&mdash;in the wood"&mdash;(he
+drew his breath painfully)&mdash;"a few minutes only before that terrible
+mistake of mine; and we were friends again. Mother, do you know me so
+ill as to think that I could ever have lifted my hand against Richard,
+who was always a friend to me, always far kinder than I deserved? It was
+a mistake&mdash;a mistake that I'll never, never forgive myself for, and that
+you, perhaps, never will forgive&mdash;but, at any rate, do me the justice to
+believe that it was a mistake, and not&mdash;not&mdash;that I was Richard's
+murderer!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell sat silent, motionless, her white hands crossed before her
+on the crape of her black gown. Brian threw himself impetuously on his
+knees before her and looked up into her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother!" he said, "do you not believe me?"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him a long time&mdash;it was, in reality, not more than ten or
+twelve seconds&mdash;before Mrs. Luttrell answered his question. "Do you not
+believe me?" he had said. And she answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>The shock of finding his passionate appeal so utterly disregarded
+restored to Brian the composure which had failed him before. He rose to
+his feet, pale, stricken, indeed, but calm. For a moment or two he
+averted his face from the woman who judged him so harshly, so
+pitilessly; but when he turned to her again, he had gained a certain
+pride of bearing which compelled her unwilling respect.</p>
+
+<p>"If that is your final answer," he said, "I can say nothing more.
+Perhaps the day will come when you will understand me better. In the
+meantime, I shall be glad to hear whether you have any plans which I can
+assist you in carrying out."</p>
+
+<p>"None in which I require your assistance," said Mrs. Luttrell, stonily.
+"I have my jointure; I can live upon that. I will leave Netherglen to
+you. I will take a cottage for myself&mdash;and Angela."</p>
+
+<p>"And Angela?"</p>
+
+<p>"Angela remains with me. You may remember that she has no home, except
+with friends who are not always as kind to her as they might be. Her
+brother is not a wealthy man, and has no house of his own. Under these
+circumstances, and considering what she has lost, it would be mere
+justice if I offered her a home. Henceforth she is my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"You have asked her to stay, and she has consented?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have."</p>
+
+<p>"And you thought&mdash;you think&mdash;of taking a home for yourselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you do not object," said Brian, slowly, "to the gossip to
+which such a step on your part is sure to give rise?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not considered the matter. Gossip will not touch me."</p>
+
+<p>"No." Brian would not for worlds have said that the step she
+contemplated taking would be disastrous for him. Yet for one moment, he
+could not banish the consciousness that all the world would now have
+good reason to believe that his mother held him guilty of his brother's
+death. He did not know that the world suspected him already.</p>
+
+<p>It was with an unmoved front that he presently continued.</p>
+
+<p>"I, myself, had a proposition to make which would perhaps render it
+needless for you to leave Netherglen, which, as you say, is legally your
+own. You may not have considered that I am hardly likely to have much
+love for the place after what has occurred in it. You know that neither
+you nor I can sell any portion of the property&mdash;even you would not care
+to let it, I suppose, to strangers for the present. I think of going
+abroad&mdash;probably probably for some years. I have always wanted to
+travel. The house on the Strathleckie side of the property can be let;
+and as for Netherglen, it would be an advantage for the place if you
+made it your home for as many months in the year as you chose. I don't
+see why you should not do so. I shall not return to this neighbourhood."</p>
+
+<p>"It does not seem to occur to you," said Mrs. Luttrell, in measured
+tones, "that Angela and I may also have an objection to residing in a
+place which will henceforth have so many painful memories attached to
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"If that is the case," said Brian, after a little pause, "there is no
+more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>"I will ask Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell, stretching out her hand to a
+little handbell which stood upon the table at her side.</p>
+
+<p>Brian started. "Then I will come to you again," he said, moving hastily
+to the door. "I will see you after lunch."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not go," said his mother, giving two very decisive strokes of
+the bell by means of a pressure of her firm, white fingers. "Let us
+settle the matter while we are about it. There will be no need of a
+second interview."</p>
+
+<p>"But Angela will not want to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"Angela&mdash;&mdash;Ask Miss Vivian to come to me at once if she can" (to the
+maid who appeared at the door)&mdash;"Angela expressed a wish to see you this
+morning."</p>
+
+<p>Brian stood erect by the mantelpiece, biting his lips under his soft,
+brown moustache, and very much disposed to take the matter into his own
+hands, and walk straight out of the room. But some time or other Angela
+must be faced; perhaps as well now as at any other time. He waited,
+therefore, in silence, until the door opened and Angela appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian!" said the soft voice, in as kind and sisterly a tone as he had
+ever heard from her.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian!"</p>
+
+<p>She was close to him, but he dared not look up until she took his
+unresisting hand in hers and held it tenderly. Then he raised his head a
+very little and looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>She had always been pale, but now she was snow-white, and the extreme
+delicacy and even fragility of her appearance were thrown into strong
+relief by the dead black of her mourning gown. Her eyes were full of
+tears, and her lips were quivering; but Brian knew in a moment, by
+instinct, that she at least believed in the innocence of his heart,
+although his hand had taken his brother's life. He stooped down and
+kissed the hand that held his own, so humbly, so sorrowfully, that
+Angela's heart yearned over him. She understood him, and she had room,
+even in her great grief, to be sorry for him too. And when he withdrew
+his hand and turned away from her with one deep sob that he did not know
+how to repress, she tried to comfort him.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Brian," she said, "I know&mdash;I understand. Poor fellow! it is very
+hard for you. It is hard for us all; but I think it is hardest of all
+for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I would have given my life for his, Angela," said Brian, in a smothered
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you would. I know you loved him," said Angela, the tears
+streaming now down her pale cheeks. "There is only one thing for us to
+say, Brian&mdash;It was God's will that he should go."</p>
+
+<p>"How you must hate the sight of me," groaned Brian. He had almost
+forgotten the presence of Mrs. Luttrell, whose hard, watchful eyes were
+taking notice of every detail of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not trouble you long; I am going to leave Scotland; I will go
+far away; you shall never see my face again."</p>
+
+<p>"But I should be sorry for that," said Angela's soft, caressing voice,
+into which a tremor stole from time to time that made it doubly sweet.
+"I shall want to see you again. Promise me that you will come back,
+Brian&mdash;some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Some day?" he repeated, mournfully. "Well, some day, Angela, when you
+can look on me without so much pain as you must needs feel now, any day
+when you have need of me. But, as I am going so very soon, will you tell
+me yourself whether Netherglen is a place that you hold in utter
+abhorrence now? Would it hurt you to make Netherglen your home? Could
+you and my mother find happiness&mdash;or at least peace&mdash;if you lived here
+together? or would it be too great a trial for you to bear?"</p>
+
+<p>"It rests with you to decide, Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell from her sofa.
+"I have no choice; it signifies little to me whether I go or stay. If it
+would pain you to live at Netherglen, say so; and we will choose another
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Pain me?" said Angela. "To stay here&mdash;in Richard's home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you dislike it?" asked Mrs. Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>The girl came to her side, and put her arms round the mother's neck.
+Mrs. Luttrell's face softened curiously as she did so; she laid one of
+her hands upon Angela's shining hair with a caressing movement.</p>
+
+<p>"Dislike it? It would be my only happiness," said Angela. She stopped,
+and then went on with soft vehemence&mdash;"To think that I was in his house,
+that I looked on the things that he used to see every day, that I could
+sometimes do the thing that he would have liked to see me doing&mdash;it is
+all I could wish for, all that life could give me now! Yes, yes, let us
+stay."</p>
+
+<p>"It's perhaps not so good for you as one might wish," said Mrs.
+Luttrell, regarding her tenderly. "You had perhaps better have a change
+for a time; there is no reason why you should live for ever in the past,
+like an old woman, Angela. The day will come when you may wish to make
+new ties for yourself&mdash;new interests&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Angela's whisper reached her ear alone.</p>
+
+<p>"'Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after
+thee,'" she murmured in the words of the widowed Moabitess, "'for
+whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people, and thy God my God...'"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell clasped her in her arms and kissed her forehead. Then
+after a little pause she said to Brian&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We will stay."</p>
+
+<p>Brian bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I will make all necessary arrangements with Mr. Colquhoun, and send him
+to you," he said. "I think there is nothing else about which we have to
+speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"Except Hugo. As I am going away from home for so long I think it would
+be better if I settled a certain sum in the Funds upon him, so that he
+might have a moderate income as well as his pay. Does that meet with
+your approval?"</p>
+
+<p>"My approval matters very little, but you can do as you choose with your
+own money. I suppose you wish that this house should be kept open for
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is as you please. He would be better for a home. May I ask what
+Angela thinks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Angela, lifting her face slowly from Mrs. Luttrell's
+shoulder. "He must not feel that he has lost a home, must he, mother?"
+She pronounced the title which Mrs. Luttrell had begged her to bestow,
+still with a certain diffidence and hesitancy; but Mrs. Luttrell's brow
+smoothed when she heard it.</p>
+
+<p>"We will do what we can for him," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"He has not been very steady of late," Brian went on slowly, wondering
+whether he was right to conceal Hugo's misdeeds and evil tendencies. "I
+hope he will improve; you will have patience with him if he is not very
+wise. And now, will you let me say good-bye to you? I shall leave
+Netherglen to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow?" said Angela, wonderingly. "Why should you go so soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is better so," Brian answered.</p>
+
+<p>"But we shall know where you are. You will write?"</p>
+
+<p>His eyes sought his mother's face. She would not look at him. He spoke
+in an unnaturally quiet voice, "I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, will you not tell him to write to you?" said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>The mother sat silent, unresponsive. It was plain that she cared for no
+letter from this son of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"I will leave my address with Mr. Colquhoun, Angela," said Brian,
+forcing a slight, sad smile. "If there is business for me to transact,
+he will be able to let me know. I shall hear from him how you all are,
+from time to time."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not write to me, then?" said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>Brian darted an inquiring glance at her. Oh, what divine pity, what
+sublime forgetfulness of self, gleamed out of those tender,
+tear-reddened eyes!</p>
+
+<p>"Will you let me?" he said, almost timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like you to write. I shall look for your letters, Brian. Don't
+forget that I shall be anxious for news of you."</p>
+
+<p>Almost without knowing what he did, he sank down on his knees before
+her, and touched her hand reverently with his lips. She bent forward and
+kissed his forehead as a sister might have done.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, Angela!" he said. He could not utter another word.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said the girl, taking in hers the passive hand of the woman,
+who had sat with face averted&mdash;perhaps so that she should not meet the
+eyes of the man whom she could not forgive&mdash;"mother, speak to him; say
+good-bye to him before he goes."</p>
+
+<p>The mother's hand trembled and tried to withdraw itself, but Angela
+would not let it go.</p>
+
+<p>"One kind word to him, mother," she said. "See, he is kneeling before
+you. Only look at him and you will see how he has suffered! Don't let
+him go away from you without one word."</p>
+
+<p>She guided Mrs. Luttrell's hand to Brian's head; and there for a moment
+it rested heavily. Then she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"If I have been unjust, may God forgive me!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Then she withdrew her hand and rose from her seat. She did not even look
+behind her as she walked to the bed-room door, pushed it open, entered,
+and closed it, and turned the key in the old-fashioned lock. She had
+said all that she meant to say: no power, human or divine, should wrest
+another word from her just then. But in her heart she was crying over
+and over again the words that had been upon her lips a hundred times to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>"He is no son of mine&mdash;no son of mine&mdash;this man by whose hand Richard
+Luttrell fell. I am childless. Both my sons are dead."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FAREWELL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was a little, sunny, green walk opposite the dining-room windows,
+edged on either side by masses of white and crimson phlox and a row of
+sunflowers, where the gentlemen of the house were in the habit of taking
+their morning stroll and smoking their first cigar. It was here that
+Hugo was slowly pacing up and down when Brian Luttrell came out of the
+house in search of him.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo gave him a searching glance as he approached, and was not
+reassured. Brian's face wore a curiously restrained expression, which
+gave it a look of sternness. Hugo's heart beat fast; he threw away the
+end of his cigar, and advanced to meet his cousin with an air of
+unconcern which was evidently assumed for the occasion. It passed
+unremarked, however. Brian was in no mood for considering Hugo's
+expression of countenance.</p>
+
+<p>They took two or three turns up and down the garden walk without
+uttering a word. Brian was absorbed in thought, and Hugo had his own
+reasons for being afraid to open his mouth. It was Brian who spoke at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>"Come away from the house," he said. "I want to speak to you, and we
+can't talk easily underneath all these windows. We'll go down to the
+loch."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to the loch," said Hugo, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Brian considered a moment. "You are right," he said, in a low tone, "we
+won't go there. Come this way." For the moment he had forgotten that
+painful scene at the boat-house, which no doubt made Hugo shrink
+sensitively from the sight of the place. He was sorry that he had
+suggested it.</p>
+
+<p>The day was calm and mild, but not brilliant. The leaves of the trees
+had taken on an additional tinge of autumnal yellow and red since Brian
+last looked at them with an observant eye. For the past week he had
+thought of nothing but of the intolerable grief and pain that had come
+upon him. But now the peace and quiet of the day stole upon him
+unawares; there was a restfulness in the sight of the steadfast hills,
+of the waving trees&mdash;a sense of tranquility even in the fall of the
+yellowing leaves and the flight of the migrating song-birds overhead.
+His eye grew calmer, his brow more smooth, as he walked silently onward;
+he drew a long breath, almost like one of relief; then he stopped short,
+and leaned against the trunk of a tall fir tree, looking absently before
+him, as though he had forgotten the reason for his proposed interview
+with his cousin. Hugo grew impatient. They had left the garden, and were
+walking down a grassy little-trodden lane between two tracks of wooded
+ground; it led to the tiny hamlet at the head of the loch, and thence to
+the high road. Hugo wondered whether the conversation were to be held
+upon the public highway or in the lane. If it had to do with his own
+private affairs, he felt that he would prefer the lane. But he dared not
+precipitate matters by speaking.</p>
+
+<p>Brian recollected his purpose at last, however. After a short interval
+of silence he turned his eyes upon Hugo, who was standing near him, and
+said, gently&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, won't you?&mdash;then we can talk."</p>
+
+<p>There was a fallen log on the ground. Hugo took his seat on it meekly
+enough, but continued his former occupation of digging up, with the
+point of a stick that he was carrying, the roots of all the plants
+within his reach. He was so much absorbed by this pursuit that he seemed
+hardly to attend to the next words that Brian spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought, perhaps, to have had a talk with you before," he said.
+"Matters have been in a very unsettled state, as you well know. But
+there are one or two points that ought to be settled without delay."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo ceased his work of destruction; and apparently disposed himself to
+listen.</p>
+
+<p>"First, your own affairs. You have hitherto had an allowance, I
+believe&mdash;how much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two hundred," said Hugo, sulkily, "since I joined."</p>
+
+<p>"And your pay. And you could not make that sufficient?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's face flushed, he did not answer. He sat still, looking sullenly
+at the ground. Brian waited for a little while, and then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to preach, old fellow, but you know I can't help thinking
+that, by a little decent care and forethought, you ought to have made
+that do. Still, it's no good my saying so, is it? What is done cannot be
+undone&mdash;would God it could!"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short again: his voice had grown hoarse. Hugo, with the dusky
+red still tingeing his delicate, dark face, hung his head and made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>"One can but try to do better for the future," said Brian, somewhat
+unsteadily, after that moment's pause. "Hugo, dear boy, will you promise
+that, at least?"</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. Hugo tried to shrink away,
+then, finding this impossible, averted his face and partly hid it with
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"It's no good making vague promises," he said by-and-bye. "What do you
+mean? If you want me to promise to live on my pay or anything of that
+sort&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of that sort," Brian interrupted him. "Only, that you will act
+honourably and straightforwardly&mdash;that you will not touch what is not
+your own&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo shook off the kindly hand and started up with something like an
+oath upon his lips. "Why are you always talking about that affair! I
+thought it was past and done with," he said, turning his back upon his
+cousin, and switching the grass savagely with his cane.</p>
+
+<p>"Always talking about it! Be reasonable, Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"It was only because I was at my wits' end for money," said the lad,
+irritably. "And that came in my way, and&mdash;I had never taken any
+before&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And never will again," said Brian. "That's what I want to hear you
+say."</p>
+
+<p>But Hugo would say nothing. He stood, the impersonation of silent
+obstinacy, digging the end of his stick into the earth, or striking at
+the blue bells and the brambles within reach, resolved to utter no word
+which Brian could twist into any sort of promise for the future. He knew
+that his silence might injure his prospects, by lowering him in Brian's
+estimation&mdash;Brian being now the arbiter of his fate&mdash;but for all that he
+could not bring himself to make submission or to profess penitence.
+Something made the words stick in his throat; no power on earth would at
+that moment have forced him to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Brian at last, in a tone which showed deep disappointment,
+"I am sorry that you won't go so far, Hugo. I hope you will do well,
+however, without professions. Still, I should have been better satisfied
+to have your word for it&mdash;before I left Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" said Hugo, suddenly facing him.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite know."</p>
+
+<p>"To London?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Abroad."</p>
+
+<p>"Abroad?" repeated Hugo, with a wondering accent. "Why should you go
+abroad?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's my own business."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;" said the lad, flushing and paling, and stammering with
+eagerness, "I thought that you would stay here, and that Netherglen and
+everything would belong to you, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And that I should shoot, and fish, and ride, and disport myself gaily
+over my brother's inheritance&mdash;that my own hand deprived him of!" cried
+Brian, with angry bitterness. "It is so likely! Is it you who have no
+feeling, or do you fancy that I have none?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the place is yours," faltered Hugo, with a guilty look,
+"Strathleckie is yours, if Netherglen is not."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine! Yes, it is mine after a fashion," said Brian, while a hot, red
+flush crept up to his forehead, and his brows contracted painfully over
+his sad, dark eyes. "It is mine by law; mine by my father's will; and if
+it had come into my hands by any other way&mdash;if my brother had not died
+through my own carelessness&mdash;I suppose that I might have learnt to enjoy
+it like any other man. But as it is&mdash;I wish that every acre of it were
+at the bottom of the loch, and I there, too, for the matter of that! I
+have made up my mind that I will not benefit by Richard's death. Others
+may have the use of his wealth, but I am the last that should touch it.
+I will have the two or three hundred a year that he used to give me, and
+I will have nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's face had grown pale. He looked more dismayed by this utterance
+than by anything that Brian as yet had said. He opened his lips once or
+twice before he could find his voice, and it was in curiously rough and
+broken tones that he at length asked a question.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this because of what people say about&mdash;about you&mdash;and&mdash;Richard?"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to find it difficult to pronounce the dead man's name. Brian
+lifted up his face.</p>
+
+<p>"What do people say about me and Richard, then?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo retreated a little.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't know," he said, looking down miserably, "I can't tell
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Brian's eyes blazed with sudden wrath.</p>
+
+<p>"You have said too little or too much," he said. "I must know the rest.
+What is it that people say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not know. Out with it."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you," said Hugo, biting his lips. "Don't ask me, ask
+someone else. Anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"Is 'anyone' sure to know? I will hear it from you, and from no one
+else. What do people say?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo looked up at him and then down again. The struggle that was waging
+between the powers of good and evil in his soul had its effect even on
+his outer man. His very lips turned white as he considered what he
+should say.</p>
+
+<p>Brian noted this change of colour, and was moved by it, thinking that he
+understood Hugo's reluctance to give him pain. He subdued his own
+impatience, and spoke in a lower, quieter voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't take it to heart, Hugo, whatever it may be. It cannot be worse
+than the thing I have heard already&mdash;from my mother. I don't suppose I
+shall mind it much. They say, perhaps, that I&mdash;that I shot my
+brother"&mdash;(in spite of himself, Brian's voice trembled with passionate
+indignation)&mdash;"that I killed Richard purposely&mdash;knowing what I did&mdash;in
+order to possess myself of this miserable estate of his&mdash;is that what
+they say?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo answered by a bare little monosyllable&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And who says this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone. The whole country side."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;if this is believed so generally&mdash;why have no steps been taken to
+prove my guilt? Good God, my guilt! Why should I not be prosecuted at
+once for murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"There would be no evidence, they say." Hugo murmured, uneasily. "It is
+simply a matter of assertion; you say you shot at a bird, not seeing
+him, and they say that you must have known that he was there. That is
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"A matter of assertion! Well, they are right so far. If they don't
+believe my word, there is no more to be said," replied Brian, sadly, his
+excitement suddenly forsaking him. "Only I never thought that my word
+would even be asked for on such a subject by people who had known me all
+my life. You don't doubt me, do you, Hugo?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could I?" said Hugo, in a voice so low and shaken that Brian could
+scarcely hear the words. But he felt instinctively that the lad's trust
+in him, on that one point, at least, had not wavered, and with a warm
+thrill of affection and gratitude he held out his hand. It gave him a
+rude shock to see that Hugo drew back and would not take it.</p>
+
+<p>"What! you don't trust me after all?" he said, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I do," cried Hugo, "but&mdash;what does it matter what I think? I'm not
+fit to take your hand&mdash;I cannot&mdash;I cannot&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His emotion was so genuine that Brian felt some surprise, and also some
+compunction for having distrusted him before.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Hugo," he said, gently, "I shall know you better now. We have
+always been friends; don't forget that we are friends still, although I
+may be on the other side of the world. I'm going to try and lose myself
+in some out-of-the-way place, and live where nobody will ever know my
+story, but I shall be rather glad to think sometimes that, at any rate,
+you understand what I felt about poor Richard&mdash;that you never once
+misjudged me&mdash;I won't forget it, Hugo, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed Hugo's still reluctant hand, and then made him sit down
+beside him upon the fallen tree.</p>
+
+<p>"We must talk business now," he said, more cheerfully&mdash;though it was a
+sad kind of cheerfulness after all&mdash;"for we have not much time left. I
+hear the luncheon-bell already. Shall we finish our talk first? You
+don't care for luncheon? No more do I. Where had we got to? Only to the
+initial step&mdash;that I was going abroad. I have several other things to
+explain to you."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes looked out into the distance as he spoke; his voice lost its
+forced cheerfulness, and became immeasurably grave and sad. Hugo
+listened with hidden face. He did not care to turn his gloomy brows and
+anxiously-twitching lips towards the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never come back to Scotland," said Brian, slowly. "To England I
+may come some day, but it will be after many years. My mother has the
+management of Strathleckie; as well as of Netherglen, which belongs to
+her. She will live here, and use the house and dispose of the revenues
+as she pleases. Angela remains with her."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you marry&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never marry. My life is spoilt&mdash;ruined. I could not ask any
+woman to share it with me. I shall be a wanderer on the face of the
+earth&mdash;like Cain."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" cried Hugo, passionately. "Not like Cain. There is no curse on
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not even my mother's curse? I am not sure," said Brian. "I shall be a
+wanderer, at any rate; so much is certain: living on my three hundred a
+year, very comfortably, no doubt; until this life is over, and I come
+out clear on the other side&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo lifted his face. "You don't mean," he whispered, with a look of
+terrified suspicion, "that you would ever lay hands on yourself, and
+shorten your life in that way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no. What makes you think that I should choose such a course? I
+hope I am not a coward," said Brian, simply. "No, I shall live out my
+days somewhere&mdash;somehow; but there is no harm in wishing that they were
+over."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. The dreamy expression of Brian's eyes seemed to
+betoken that his thoughts were far away. Hugo moved his stick nervously
+through the grass at his feet. He could not look up.</p>
+
+<p>"What else have you to tell me?" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the way in which Strathleckie was settled?" said Brian,
+quietly, coming down to earth from some high vision of other worlds and
+other lives than ours. "Do you know that my grandfather made a curious
+will about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hugo. It was false, for he knew the terms of the will quite
+well; but he thought it more becoming to profess ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"This place belonged to my mother's father. It was left to her children
+and their direct heirs; failing heirs, it reverts to a member of her
+family, a man of the name of Gordon Murray. We have no power to alienate
+any portion of it. The rents are ours, the house and lands are ours, for
+our lives only. If we die, you see, without children, the property goes
+to these Murrays."</p>
+
+<p>"Cousins of yours, are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Second cousins. I have never troubled myself about the exact degree of
+relationship until within the last day or two. I find that Gordon Murray
+would be my second cousin once removed, and that his child or
+children&mdash;he has more than one, I believe&mdash;would, therefore, be my third
+cousins. A little while ago I should have thought it highly improbable
+that any of the Gordon Murrays would ever come into possession of
+Strathleckie, but it is not at all improbable now."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do these Murrays live?"</p>
+
+<p>"In London, I think. I am not sure. I have asked Colquhoun to find out
+all that he can about them. If there is a young fellow in the family, it
+might be well to let him know his prospects and invite him down. I could
+settle an income on him if he were poor. Then the estate would benefit
+somebody."</p>
+
+<p>"You can do as you like with the income," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>The words escaped him half against his will. He stole a glance at Brian
+when they were uttered, as if anxious to ascertain whether or no his
+cousin had divined his own grudging, envious thoughts. He heartily
+wished that Richard's money had come to him. In Brian's place it would
+never have crossed his mind that he should throw away the good fortune
+that had fallen to his lot. If only he were in this lucky young Murray's
+shoes!</p>
+
+<p>Brian did not guess the thoughts that passed through Hugo's mind, but
+that murmured speech reminded him of another point which he wished to
+make quite clear.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I can do what I like with the income," he said, "and also with a
+sum of money that my father invested many years ago which nobody has
+touched at present. There are twelve thousand pounds in the Funds, part
+of which I propose to settle upon you so as to make you more independent
+of my help in the future."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo stammered out something a little incoherent; it was a proposition
+which took him completely by surprise. Brian continued quietly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I might continue the allowance that you have had hitherto,
+but then, in the event of my death, it would cease, for I cannot leave
+it to you by will. I have thought that it would be better, therefore, to
+transfer to you six thousand pounds, Hugo, over which you have complete
+control. All I ask is that you won't squander it. Colquhoun says that he
+can safely get you five per cent for it. I would put it in his hands, if
+I were you. It will then bring you in three hundred a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Brian, you are too good to me," said Hugo. There were tears in his
+eyes; his voice trembled and his cheek flushed as he spoke "You don't
+know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Then he stopped and covered his face with his hands. A very unwonted
+feeling of shame and regret overpowered him; it was as much as he could
+do to refrain from crying like a child. "I can't thank you," he said,
+with a sob which made Brian smile a little, and lay his hand
+affectionately on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't thank me, dear boy," he said. "It's very little to do for you;
+but it will perhaps help to keep you out of difficulties. And if you are
+in any trouble, go to Colquhoun. I will tell him how far he may go on
+helping you, and you can trust him. He shall not even tell me what you
+say to him, if you don't wish me to know. But, for Heaven's sake, Hugo,
+try to keep straight, and bring no disgrace upon our name. I have done
+what I could for you&mdash;I may do more, if necessary; but there are
+circumstances in which I should not be able to help you at all, and you
+know what those are."</p>
+
+<p>He thought that he understood Hugo's impulsive disposition, but even he
+was not prepared for the burst of passionate remorse and affection with
+which the boy threw himself almost at his feet, kissing his hands and
+sobbing out promises of amendment with all the abandonment of his
+Southern nature. Brian was inclined to be displeased with this want of
+self-control; he spoke sharply at last and told him to command himself.
+But some time elapsed before Hugo regained his calmness. And when Brian
+returned to the house, he could not induce his cousin to return with
+him; the young fellow wandered away through the woods with drooping head
+and dejected mien, and was seen no more till late at night.</p>
+
+<p>He came back to the house too late to say good-bye to Brian, who had
+left a few lines of farewell for him. His absence, perhaps, added a pang
+to the keen pain with which Brian left his home; but if so, no trace of
+it was discernible in the kindly words which he had addressed to his
+cousin. He saw neither his mother nor Angela before he went; indeed, he
+avoided any formal parting from the household in general, and let it be
+thought that he was likely to return in a short time. But as he took
+from his groom the reins of the dog-cart in which he was about to drive
+down to the station, he looked round him sadly and lingeringly, with a
+firm conviction at his heart that never again would his eyes rest upon
+the shining loch, the purple hills, and the ivy-grown, grey walls of
+Netherglen. Never again. He had said his last farewell. He had no home
+now!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN GOWER-STREET.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Angela Vivian's brother Rupert was, perhaps, not unlike her in feature
+and colouring, but there was a curious dissimilarity of expression
+between the two. Angela's dark, grey eyes had a sweetness in which
+Rupert's were lacking; the straight, regular features, which with her
+were brightened by a tender play of emotion, were, with him, cold and
+grave. The mouth was a fastidious one; the bearing of the man, though
+full of distinction, could sometimes be almost repellantly haughty. The
+merest sketch of him would not be complete unless we added that his
+dress was faultless, and that he was apt to bestow a somewhat finical
+care upon the minor details of his toilet.</p>
+
+<p>It was in October, when "everybody" was still supposed to be out of
+town, that Rupert Vivian walked composedly down Gower-street meditating
+on the news which the latest post had brought him. In sheer absence of
+mind he almost passed the house at which he had been intending to call,
+and he stood for a minute or two upon the steps, as if not quite sure
+whether or no he would enter. Finally, however, he knocked at the door
+and rang the bell, then prepared himself, with a resigned air, to wait
+until it should be opened. He had never yet found that a first summons
+gained him admittance to that house.</p>
+
+<p>After waiting five minutes and knocking twice, a slatternly maid
+appeared and asked him to walk upstairs. Rupert followed her leisurely;
+he knew very well what sort of reception to expect, and was not
+surprised when she merely opened the drawing-room door, and left him to
+announce himself. "No ceremony" was the rule in the Herons' household,
+and very objectionable Rupert Vivian sometimes found it.</p>
+
+<p>The day had been foggy and dark, and a bright fire threw a cheerful
+light over the scene which presented itself to Rupert's eyes. A pleasant
+clinking of spoons and cups and saucers met his ear. He stood at the
+door for a moment unobserved, listening and looking on. He was a
+privileged person in that house, and considered himself quite at liberty
+to look and listen if he chose.</p>
+
+<p>The room had an air of comfort verging upon luxury, but if was untidy to
+a degree which Rupert thought disgraceful. For the rich hues of the
+curtains, the artistic character of the Japanese screens and Oriental
+embroideries, the exquisite landscape-paintings on the walls, were
+compatible with grave deficiencies in the list of more ordinary articles
+of furniture. There were two or three picturesque, high-backed chairs,
+made of rosewood (black with age) and embossed leather, but the rest of
+the seats consisted of divans, improvised by ingenious fingers out of
+packing-boxes and cushions covered with Morris chintzes; or brown
+Windsor chairs, evidently imported straight from the kitchen. A battered
+old writing-desk had an incongruous look when placed next to a costly
+buhl clock on a table inlaid indeed with mother-of-pearl, but wanting in
+one leg; and so no valuable blue china was apt to pass unobserved upon
+the mantelpiece because it was generally found in company with a child's
+mug, a plate of crusts, or a painting-rag. A grand piano stood open, and
+was strewn with sheets of music; two sketching portfolios conspicuously
+adorned the hearth-rug. A tea-table was drawn up near the fire, and the
+firelight was reflected pleasantly in the gleaming silver and porcelain
+of the tea-service.</p>
+
+<p>The human elements of the scene were very diverse. Mrs. Heron, a
+languid-looking, fair-haired woman, lay at full length on one of the
+divans. Her step-daughter, Kitty, sat at the tea-table, and Kitty's
+elder brother, Percival, a tall, broad-shouldered young man of
+eight-and-twenty, was leaning against the mantelpiece. A girl, who
+looked about twenty-one years of age was sitting in the deepest shadow
+of the room. The firelight played upon her hands, which lay quietly
+folded before her in her lap, but it did not touch her face. Two or
+three children were playing about the floor with their toys and a white
+fox-terrier. The young man was talking very fast, two at least of the
+ladies were laughing, the children were squabbling and shouting. It was
+a Babel. As Rupert stood at the door he caught the sense of Percival's
+last rapid sentences.</p>
+
+<p>"No right nor wrong in the case. You must allow me to say that you take
+an exclusively feminine view of the matter, which, of course, is narrow.
+I have as much right to sell my brains to the highest bidder as my
+friend Vivian has to sell his pictures when he gets the chance&mdash;which
+isn't often."</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing like the candour of an impartial friend," said Rupert,
+good-humouredly, as he advanced into the room. "Allow me to tell you
+that I sold my last painting this morning. How do you do, Mrs. Heron?"</p>
+
+<p>His appearance produced a lull in the storm. Percival ceased to talk and
+looked slightly&mdash;very slightly&mdash;disconcerted. Mrs. Heron half rose;
+Kitty made a raid upon the children's toys, and carried some of them to
+the other end of the room, whither the tribe followed her, lamenting.
+Then, Percival laughed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you come from?" he said, in a round, mellow, genial voice,
+which was singularly pleasant to the ear. "'Listeners hear no good of
+themselves.' You've proved the proverb."</p>
+
+<p>"Not for the first time when you are the speaker. I have found that out.
+How are you, Kitty? Good evening, Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"How good of you to come to see us, Mr. Vivian!" said Mrs. Heron, in a
+low, sweetly-modulated voice, as she held out one long, white hand to
+her visitor. She re-arranged her draperies a little, and lay back
+gracefully when she had spoken. Rupert had never seen her do anything
+but lie on sofas in graceful attitudes since he first made her
+acquaintance. It was her <i>métier</i>. Nobody expected anything else from
+her except vague, theoretic talk, which she called philosophy. She had
+been Kitty's governess in days gone by. Mr. Heron, an artist of some
+repute, married her when he had been a widower for twelve months only.
+Since that time she had become the mother of three handsome, but
+decidedly noisy, children, and had lapsed by degrees into the life of a
+useless, fine lady, to whom household cares and the duties of a mother
+were mere drudgery, and were left to fall as much as possible on the
+shoulders of other people. Nevertheless, Mrs. Heron's selfishness was of
+a gentle and even loveable type. She was seldom out of humour, rarely
+worried or fretful; she was only persistently idle, and determined to
+consider herself in feeble health.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian's acquaintance with the Herons dated from his first arrival in
+London, six years ago, when he boarded with them for a few months. The
+disorder of the household had proved too great a trial to his fastidious
+tastes to be borne for a longer space of time. He had, however, formed a
+firm friendship with the whole family, especially with Percival; and for
+the last three or four years the two young men had occupied rooms in the
+same house and virtually lived together. To anyone who knew the
+characters of the friends, their friendship was somewhat remarkable.
+Vivian's fault was an excess of polish and refinement; he attached
+unusual value to matters of mere taste and culture. Possibly this was
+the link which really attached him to Percival Heron, who was a man of
+considerable intellectual power, although possessed sometimes by a sort
+of irrepressible brusqueness and roughness of manner, with which he
+could make himself exceedingly disagreeable even to his friends.
+Percival was taller, stronger, broader about the shoulders, deeper in
+the chest, than Vivian&mdash;in fact, a handsomer man in all respects.
+Well-cut features, pale, but healthy-looking; brilliant, restless, dark
+eyes; thick brown hair and moustache; a well-knit, vigorous frame, which
+gave no sign as yet of the stoutness to which it inclined in later
+years, these were points that made his appearance undeniably striking
+and attractive. A physiognomist might, however, have found something to
+blame as well as to praise in his features. There was an ominous upright
+line between the dark brows, which surely told of a variable temper; the
+curl of the laughing lips, and the fall of the heavy moustache only half
+concealed a curious over-sensitiveness in the lines of the too mobile
+mouth. It was not the face of a great thinker nor of a great saint, but
+of a humorous, quick-witted, impatient man, of wide intelligence, and
+very irritable nervous organisation.</p>
+
+<p>The air of genial hilarity which he could sometimes wear was doubtless
+attractive to a man of Vivian's reserved temperament. Percival's
+features beamed with good humour&mdash;he laughed with his whole heart when
+anything amused him. Vivian used to look at him in wonder sometimes, and
+think that Percival was more like a great overgrown boy than a man of
+eight-and-twenty. On the other hand, Percival said that Vivian was a
+prig.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty, sitting at the tea-table, did not think so. She loved her brother
+very much, but she considered Mr. Vivian a hero, a demigod, something a
+little lower, perhaps, than the angels, but not very much. Kitty was
+only sixteen, which accounts, possibly, for her delusion on this
+subject. She was slim, and round, and white, with none of the usual
+awkwardness of her age about her. She had a well-set, graceful little
+head, and small, piquant features; her complexion had not much colour,
+but her pretty lips showed the smallest and pearliest of teeth when she
+smiled, and her dark eyes sparkled and danced under the thin, dark curve
+of her eyebrows and the shade of her long, curling lashes. Then her hair
+would not on any account lie straight, but disposed itself in dainty
+tendrils and love-locks over her forehead, which gave her almost a
+childish look, and was a serious trouble to Miss Kitty herself, who
+preferred her step-mother's abundant flaxen plaits, and did not know the
+charm that those soft rings of curling hair lent to her irregular,
+little face.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian took a cup of tea from her with an indulgent smile, He liked
+Kitty extremely well. He lent her books sometimes, which she did not
+always read. I am afraid that he tried to form her mind. Kitty had a
+mind of her own, which did not want forming. Perhaps Percival Heron, was
+right when he said that Vivian was a prig. He certainly liked to lecture
+Kitty; and she used to look up at him with great, grave eyes when he was
+lecturing, and pretend to understand what he was saying. She very often
+did not understand a word; but Rupert never suspected that. He thought
+that Kitty was a very simple-minded little person.</p>
+
+<p>"There was quite an argument going on when you appeared, Mr. Vivian,"
+said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "It is sometimes a most difficult matter to
+decide what is right and what is wrong. I think you must decide for us."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not skilled in casuistry," said Vivian, smiling. "Is Percival
+giving forth some of his heresies?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was never less heretical in my life," cried Percival. "State your
+case, Bess; I'll give you the precedence."</p>
+
+<p>Vivian turned towards the dark corner.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Miss Murray's difficulty, is it?" he said, with a look of some
+interest. "I shall be glad to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>The girl in the dark corner stirred a little uneasily, but she spoke
+with no trepidation of manner, and her voice was clear and cool.</p>
+
+<p>"The question," she said, "is whether a man may write articles in a
+daily paper, advocating views which are not his own, simply because they
+are the views of the editor. I call it dishonesty."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," said Kitty, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Dishonesty? Not a bit of it," rejoined Percival. "The writer is the
+mouthpiece of the paper, which advocates certain views; he sinks his
+individuality; he does not profess to explain his own opinions. Besides,
+after all, what is dishonesty? Why should people erect honesty into such
+a great virtue? It is like truth-telling and&mdash;peaches; nobody wants them
+out of their proper season; they are never good when they are forced."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see any analogy between truth-telling and peaches," said the
+calm voice from the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"You tell the truth all the year round, don't you, Bess?" said Kitty,
+with a little malice.</p>
+
+<p>"But we are mortal, and don't attempt to practice exotic virtues," said
+Percival, mockingly. "I see no reason why I should not flourish upon
+what is called dishonesty, just as I see no reason why I should not tell
+lies. It is only the diseased sensibility of modern times which condemns
+either."</p>
+
+<p>"Modern times?" said Vivian. "I have heard of a commandment&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens!" said Percival, throwing back his handsome head, "Vivian
+is going to be didactic! I think this conversation has lasted quite long
+enough. Elizabeth, consider yourself worsted in the argument, and
+contest the point no longer."</p>
+
+<p>"There has been no argument," said Elizabeth. "There has been assertion
+on your part, and indignation on ours; that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then am I to consider myself worsted?" asked Percival. But he got no
+answer. Presently, however, he burst out with renewed vigour.</p>
+
+<p>"Right and wrong! What does it mean? I hate the very sound of the words.
+What is right to me is wrong to you, and <i>vice versa</i>. It's all a matter
+of convention. 'Now, who shall arbitrate? as Browning says&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Now, who shall arbitrate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ten men love what I hate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ten, who in ears and eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Match me; we all surmise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They, this thing, and I, that; whom shall my soul believe?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The lines rang out boldly upon the listeners' ears. Percival was one of
+the few men who can venture to recite poetry without making themselves
+ridiculous. He continued hotly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is neither truth nor falsehood in the world, and those who aver
+that there is are either impostors or dupes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Vivian, "you remind me of Bacon's celebrated sentence&mdash;'Many
+there be that say with jesting Pilate, What is truth? but do not wait
+for an answer.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you have both quoted quite enough," said Kitty, lightly. "You
+forget how little I understand of these deep subjects. I don't know how
+it is, but Percival always says the things most calculated to annoy
+people; he never visits papa's studio without abusing modern art, or
+meets a doctor without sneering at the medical profession, or loses an
+opportunity of telling Elizabeth, who loves truth for its own sake, that
+he enjoys trickery and falsehood, and thinks it clever to tell lies."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well put, Kitty," said Percival, approvingly. "You have hit off
+your brother's amiable character to the life. Like the child in the
+story, I could never tell why people loved me so, but now I know."</p>
+
+<p>There was a general laugh, and also a discordant clatter at the other
+end of the room, where the children, hitherto unnoticed, had come to
+blows over a broken toy.</p>
+
+<p>"What a noise they make!" said Percival, with a frown.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they had better go away," murmured Mrs. Heron, gently. "Dear
+Lizzy, will you look after them a little? They are always good with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose and went silently towards the three children, who at once
+clustered round her to pour their woes into her ear. She bent down and
+spoke to them lovingly, as it seemed, and finally quitted the room with
+one child clinging round her neck, and the others hanging to her gown.
+Percival gave vent to a sudden, impatient sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray is fond of children," said Vivian, looking after her
+pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am not," snapped Kitty, with something of her brother's love of
+opposition in her tone. "I hate children."</p>
+
+<p>"You! You are only a child yourself," said he, turning towards her with
+a kindly look in his grave eyes, and an unwonted smile. But Kitty's
+wrath was appeased by neither look nor smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I had better join my compeers," she said, tartly. "I shall at
+least get the benefit of Elizabeth's affection for children."</p>
+
+<p>Vivian's chair was close to hers, and the tea-table partly hid them from
+Percival's lynx eyes. Mrs. Heron was half asleep. So there was nothing
+to hinder Mr. Rupert Vivian from putting out his hand and taking Kitty's
+soft fingers for a moment soothingly in his own. He did not mean
+anything but an elderly-brotherly, patronising sort of affection by it;
+but Kitty was "thrilled through every nerve" by that tender pressure,
+and sat mute as a mouse, while Vivian turned to her step-mother and
+began to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I had some news this morning of my sister," he said. "You heard of the
+sad termination to her engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; what was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was to be married before Christmas to a Mr. Luttrell; but Mr.
+Luttrell was killed a short time ago by a shot from his brother's gun
+when they were out shooting together."</p>
+
+<p>"How very sad!"</p>
+
+<p>"The brother has gone&mdash;or is going&mdash;abroad; report says that he takes
+the matter very much to heart. And Angela is going to live with Mrs.
+Luttrell, the mother of these two men. I thought these details might be
+interesting to you," said Vivian, looking round half-questioningly,
+"because I understand that the Luttrells are related to your young
+friend&mdash;or cousin&mdash;Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed? I never heard her mention the name," said Mrs. Heron.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian thought of something that he had recently heard in connection
+with Miss Murray and the Luttrell family, and wondered whether she knew
+that if Brian Luttrell died unmarried she would succeed, to a great
+Scotch estate. But he said nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Elizabeth?" said Percival, restlessly. "She is a great deal
+too much with these children&mdash;they drag the very life out of her. I
+shall go and find her."</p>
+
+<p>He marched away, noting as he went, with much dissatisfaction, that Mrs.
+Heron was inviting Vivian to dinner, and that he was accepting the
+invitation.</p>
+
+<p>He went to the top of the house, where he knew that a room was
+appropriated to the use of the younger children. Here he found Elizabeth
+for once without the three little Herons. She was standing in the middle
+of the room, engaged in the prosaic occupation of folding up a
+table-cloth.</p>
+
+<p>He stood in the doorway looking at her for a minute or two before he
+spoke. She was a tall girl, with fine shoulders, and beautiful arms and
+hands. He noticed them particularly as she held up the cloth, shook it
+out, and folded it. A clear, fine-grained skin, with a colour like that
+of a June rose in her cheeks, well-opened, calm-looking, grey-blue eyes,
+a mass of golden hair, almost too heavy for her head; a well-cut
+profile, and rather stately bearing, made Elizabeth Murray a noticeable
+person even amongst women more strictly beautiful than herself. She was
+poorly and plainly dressed, but poverty and plainness became her,
+throwing into strong relief the beauty of her rose-tints and
+finely-moulded figure. She did not start when she saw Percival at the
+door; she smiled at him frankly, and asked why he had come.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know anything of the Luttrells?" he asked, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"The Luttrells of Netherglen? They are my third cousins."</p>
+
+<p>"You never speak of them."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what has happened to one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He shot his brother by mistake a few days ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking rather of the one who was killed," said Percival. "Where
+did you see the account? In the newspaper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Then she hesitated a little. "And I had a letter, too."</p>
+
+<p>"From the Luttrells themselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"From their lawyer."</p>
+
+<p>"And you held your tongue about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was nothing to say," said Elizabeth, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>Percival shrugged his shoulders, and went back to the drawing-room.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>ELIZABETH'S WOOING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Percival and his friend dined with the Herons that evening. Mr. Heron
+was an artist by profession; he was a fair, abstracted-looking man, with
+gold eye-glasses, which he was always sticking ineffectually upon the
+bridge of his nose and nervously feeling for when they tumbled down
+again. He had painted several good pictures in his time, and was in the
+habit of earning a fairly good income; but owing to some want of
+management, either on his part or his wife's, his income never seemed
+quite large enough for the needs of the household. The servants' wages
+were usually in arrear; the fittings of the house were broken and never
+repaired; there were wonderful gaps in the furniture and the china,
+which nobody ever appeared to think of filling up. Rupert remembered the
+ways of the house when he had boarded there, and was not surprised to
+find himself dining upon mutton half-burnt and half-raw, potatoes more
+like bullets than vegetables, and a partially cooked rice-pudding,
+served upon the remains of at least three dinner-services, accompanied
+by sour beer and very indifferent claret. Percival did not even pretend
+to eat; he sat back in his chair and declared, with an air of polite
+disgust, that he was not hungry. Rupert made up for his deficiencies,
+however; he swallowed what was set before him and conversed with his
+hostess, who was quite unconscious that anything was amiss. Mrs. Heron
+had a vague taste for metaphysics and political economy; she had
+beautiful theories of education, which she was always intending, at some
+future time, to put into practice for the benefit of her three little
+boys, Harry, Willy, and Jack. She spoke of these theories, with her blue
+eyes fixed on vacancy and her fork poised gracefully in the air, while
+Vivian laboured distastefully through his dinner, and Percival frowned
+in silence at the table-cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"I have always thought," Mrs. Heron was saying sweetly, "that children
+ought not to be too much controlled. Their development should be
+perfectly free. My children grow up like young plants, with plenty of
+sun and air; they play as they like; they work when they feel that they
+can work best; and, if at times they are a little noisy, at any rate
+their noise never develops into riot."</p>
+
+<p>Percival did not, perhaps, intend her to hear him, but, below his
+breath, he burst into a sardonic, little laugh and an aside to his
+sister Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"Never into riot! I never heard them stop short of it!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Heron looked at him uncertainly, and took pains to explain herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Up to a certain point, I was going to say, Percival, dear. At the
+proper age, I think, that discipline, entire and perfect discipline,
+ought to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is the proper age?" said Percival, ironically. "For it seems
+to me that the boys are now quite old enough to endure a little
+discipline."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, at present," said Mrs. Heron, with undisturbed composure, "they are
+in Elizabeth's hands. I leave them entirely to her. I trust Elizabeth
+perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the reason why Elizabeth does not dine with us?" said Percival,
+looking at his step-mother with an expression of deep hostility. But
+Mrs. Heron's placidity was of a kind which would not be ruffled.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth is so kind," she said. "She teaches them, and does everything
+for them; but, of course, they must go to school by-and-bye. Dear papa
+will not let me teach them myself. He tells me to forget that ever I was
+a governess; but, indeed"&mdash;with a faint, pensive smile&mdash;"my instincts
+are too strong for me sometimes, and I long to have my pupils back
+again. Do I not, Kitty, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was not a pupil of yours very long, Isabel," said Kitty, who never
+brought herself to the point of calling Mrs. Heron by anything but her
+Christian name.</p>
+
+<p>"Not long," sighed Mrs. Heron. "Too short a time for me."</p>
+
+<p>At this point Mr. Heron, who noticed very little of what was going on
+around him, turned to his son with a question about the politics of the
+day. Percival, with his nose in the air, hardly deigned at first to
+answer; but upon Vivian's quietly propounding some strongly Conservative
+views, which always acted on the younger Heron as a red rag is supposed
+to act upon a bull, he waxed impatient and then argumentative, until at
+last he talked himself into a good humour, and made everybody else good
+humoured.</p>
+
+<p>When they returned to the untidy but pleasant-looking drawing-room, they
+found Elizabeth engaged in picking up the children's toys, straightening
+the sheets of music on the piano, and otherwise making herself generally
+useful; She had changed her dress, and put on a long, plain gown of
+white cashmere, which suited her admirably, although it was at least
+three years old, undeniably tight for her across the shoulders, and
+short at the wrists, having shrunk by repeated washings since the days
+when it first was made. She wore no trimmings and no ornaments, whereas
+Kitty, in her red frock, sported half-a-dozen trumpery bracelets, a
+silver necklace, and a little bunch of autumn flowers; and Mrs. Heron's
+pale-blue draperies were adorned with dozens of yards of cheap
+cream-coloured lace. Vivian looked at Elizabeth and wondered, almost for
+the first time, why she differed so greatly from the Herons. He had
+often seen her before; but, being now particularly interested by what he
+had heard about her, he observed her more than usual.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Heron sat down at the piano; she played well, and was rather fond
+of exhibiting her musical proficiency. Percival and Kitty were engaged
+in an animated, low-toned conversation. Rupert approached Elizabeth, who
+was arranging some sketches in a portfolio with the diligence of a
+housemaid. She was standing just within the studio, which was separated
+from the drawing-room by a velvet curtain now partially drawn aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you sketch? are these your drawings?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"No, they are Uncle Alfred's. I cannot draw."</p>
+
+<p>"You are musical, I suppose," said Rupert, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>He took it for granted that, if a girl did not draw, she must needs play
+the piano. But her next words undeceived him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't play. I have no accomplishments."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by accomplishments?" asked Vivian, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that I know nothing about French and German, or music and
+drawing," said Elizabeth, calmly. "I never had any systematic education.
+I should make rather a good housemaid, I believe, but my friends won't
+allow me to take a housemaid's situation."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not," ejaculated Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>"But it is all that I am fit for," she continued, quietly. "And I think
+it is rather a pity that I am not allowed to be happy in my own way."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence. Vivian felt himself scarcely equal to the
+occasion. Presently she said, with more quickness of speech than
+usual:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You have been in Scotland lately, have you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was there a short time ago, but for two days only."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, you went to Netherglen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did. The Luttrells are connections of yours, are they not, Miss
+Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very distant ones," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"You know that Brian Luttrell has gone abroad?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard so."</p>
+
+<p>There was very little to be got out of Miss Murray. Vivian was almost
+glad when Percival joined them, and he was able to slip back to Kitty,
+with whom he had no difficulty in carrying on a conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The studio was dimly lighted, and Percival, either by accident or
+design, allowed the curtain to fall entirely over the aperture between
+the two rooms. He looked round him. Mr. Heron was absent, and they had
+the room to themselves. Several unfinished canvasses were leaning
+against the walls; the portrait of an exceedingly cadaverous-looking old
+man was conspicuous upon the artist's easel; the lay figure was draped
+like a monk, and had a cowl drawn over its stiff, wooden head. Percival
+shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"My father's studio isn't an attractive-looking place," he said, with a
+growl of disgust in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come into it?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a good reason," he answered, looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>If she understood the meaning that he wished to convey, it certainly did
+not embarrass or distress her in the least. She gave him a very
+friendly, but serious, kind of smile, and went on calmly with her work
+of sorting the papers and sketches that lay scattered around her.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth," he said, "I am offended with you."</p>
+
+<p>"That happens so often," she replied, "that I am never greatly surprised
+nor greatly concerned at hearing it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is of little consequence to you, no doubt," said Percival, rather
+huffily; "but I am&mdash;for once&mdash;perfectly serious, Elizabeth. Why could
+you not come down to dinner to-night when Rupert and I were here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I very seldom come down to dinner. I was with the children."</p>
+
+<p>"The children are not your business."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed they are. Mrs. Heron has given them into my charge, and I am
+glad of it. Not that I care for all children," said Elizabeth, with the
+cool impartiality that was wont to drive Percival to the very verge of
+distraction. "I dislike some children very much, indeed, but, you see, I
+happen&mdash;fortunately for myself&mdash;to be fond of Harry, Willie, and Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunately, for yourself, do you say? Fortunately for them! You must
+be fond of them, indeed. You can have their society all day and every
+day; and yet you could not spare a single hour to come and dine with us
+like a rational being. Vivian will think they make a nursery-maid of
+you, and I verily believe they do!"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it signify to us what Mr. Vivian thinks? I don't mind being
+taken for a nursery-maid at all, if I am only doing my proper work. But
+I would have come down, Percival, indeed, I would, if little Jack had
+not seemed so fretful and unwell. I am afraid something really is the
+matter with his back; he complains so much of pain in it, and cannot
+sleep at night. I could not leave him while he was crying and in pain,
+could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do with him?" asked Percival, after a moment's pause.</p>
+
+<p>"I walked up and down the room. He went to sleep in my arms."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you tired yourself out with that great, heavy boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know how light little Jack is; you cannot have taken him in
+your arms for a long time, Percival," said she, in a hurt tone; "and I
+am very strong. My hands ought to be of some use to me, if my brain is
+not."</p>
+
+<p>"Your brain is strong enough, and your will is strong enough for
+anything, but your hands&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are they to be useless?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they are to be useless," he said, "and somebody else must work for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"That arrangement would not suit me. I like to work for myself," she
+answered, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>They were standing on opposite sides of a small table on which the
+portfolio of drawings rested. Percival was holding up one side of the
+portfolio, and she was placing the sketches one by one upon each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what you look like?" said Percival, suddenly. There was a
+thrill of pleasurable excitement in his tone, a glow of ardour in his
+dark eyes. "You look like a tall, white lily to-night, with your white
+dress and your gleaming hair. The pure white of the petals and the
+golden heart of the lily have found their match."</p>
+
+<p>"I am recompensed for the trouble I took in changing my dress this
+evening," said Elizabeth, glancing down at it complacently. "I did not
+expect that it would bring me so poetic a compliment. Thank you,
+Percival."</p>
+
+<p>"'Consider the lilies; they toil not, neither do they spin,'" quoted
+Percival, recklessly. "Why should you toil and spin?&mdash;a more beautiful
+lily than any one of them. If Solomon in all his glory was not equal to
+those Judean lilies, then I may safely say that the Queen of Sheba would
+be beaten outright by our Queen Elizabeth, with her white dress and her
+golden locks!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Heron would say you were profane," said Elizabeth, tranquilly.
+"These comparisons of yours don't please me exactly, Percival; they
+always remind me of the flowery leaders in some of the evening papers,
+and make me remember that you are a journalist. They have a professional
+air."</p>
+
+<p>"A professional air!" repeated Percival, in disgust. He let the lid of
+the portfolio fall with a bang upon the table. Several of the sketches
+flew wildly over the floor, and Elizabeth turned to him with a
+reproachful look, but she had no time to protest, for in that moment he
+had seized her hands and drawn her aside with him to a sofa that stood
+on one side of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not answer me in that way," he said, half-irritated,
+half-amused, and wholly determined to have his way. "You shall sit down
+there and listen to me in a serious spirit, if you can. No, don't shake
+your head and look at me so mockingly. It is time that we understood
+each other, and I don't mean another night to pass over our heads
+without some decision being arrived at. Elizabeth, you must know that
+you have my happiness in your hands. I can't live without you. I can't
+bear to see you making yourself a slave to everybody, with no one to
+love you, no one to work for you and save you from anxiety and care. Let
+me work for you, now, dearest; be my wife, and I will see that you have
+your proper place, and that you are tended and cared for as a woman
+ought to be."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth had withdrawn her hands from his; she even turned a little
+pale. He fancied that the tears stood in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, "I wish you had not said this to me, Percival."</p>
+
+<p>It was easy for him to slip down from his low seat to a footstool, and
+there, on one knee, to look full into her face, and let his handsome,
+dark eyes plead for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I not have said it?" he breathed, softly. "Has it not been
+the dream of my life for months?&mdash;I might almost say for years? I loved
+you ever since you first came amongst us, Elizabeth, years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you, indeed?" said Elizabeth. A light of humour showed itself
+through the tears that had come into her eyes. An amused, reluctant
+smile curved the corners of her mouth. "What, when I was an awkward,
+clumsy, ignorant schoolgirl, as I remember your calling me one day after
+I had done something exceptionally stupid? And when you played practical
+jokes upon me&mdash;hung my doll up by its hair, and made me believe that
+there was a ghost in the attics&mdash;did you care for me then? Oh, no,
+Percival, you forget! and probably you exaggerate the amount of your
+feeling as much as you do the length of time it has lasted."</p>
+
+<p>"It's no laughing matter, I assure you, Elizabeth," said Percival,
+laughing a little himself at these recollections, but looking vexed at
+the same time. "I am perfectly serious now, and very much in earnest;
+and I can't believe that my stupid jokes, when I was a mere boy, have
+had such an effect upon your mind as to prevent you from caring for me
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Elizabeth. "They make no difference; but&mdash;I'm very sorry,
+Percival&mdash;I really don't think that it would do."</p>
+
+<p>"What would not do? what do you mean?" said Percival, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>"This arrangement; this&mdash;this&mdash;proposition of yours. Nobody would like
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody could object. I have a perfect right to marry if I choose, and
+whom I choose. I am independent of my father."</p>
+
+<p>"You could not marry yet, Percival," she said, in rather a chiding tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I could&mdash;if you would not mind sharing my poverty with me. If you loved
+me, Elizabeth, you would not mind."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I do not love you&mdash;in that way," said Elizabeth,
+meditatively. "No, it would never do. I never dreamt of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody expects you to have dreamt of it," rejoined Percival, with a
+short laugh. "The dreaming can be left to me. The question is rather
+whether you will think of it now&mdash;consider it a little, I mean. It seems
+to be a new idea to you&mdash;though I must say I wonder that you have not
+seen how much I loved you, Elizabeth! I am willing to wait until you
+have grown used to it. I cannot believe that you do not care for me! You
+would not be so cruel; you must love me a little&mdash;just a very little,
+Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do," said Elizabeth, smiling at his vehemence. "I do love
+you&mdash;more than a little&mdash;as I love you all. You have been so good to me
+that I could not help caring for you&mdash;in spite of the doll and the ghost
+in the attic." Her smile grew gravely mischievous as she finished the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is not what I want," cried Percival, starting up from his
+lowly position at her feet. "That is not the kind of love that I am
+asking for at all."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid you will get no other," said Elizabeth, with a ring of
+sincerity in her voice that left no room for coquetry. "I am sorry, but
+I cannot help it, Percival."</p>
+
+<p>"Your love is not given to anyone else?" he demanded, fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no right to ask. But if it is a satisfaction to you, I can
+assure you that I have never cared for anyone in that way. I do not know
+what it means," said Elizabeth, looking directly before her. "I have
+never been able to understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me make you understand," murmured Percival, his momentary anger
+melting before the complete candour of her eyes. "Let me teach you to
+love, Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent&mdash;irresolute, as it appeared to him.</p>
+
+<p>"You would learn very easily," said he. "Try&mdash;let me try."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I could be taught," she answered, slowly. "And really I
+am not sure that I care to learn."</p>
+
+<p>"That is simply because you do not know your own heart," said Percival,
+dogmatically. "Trust me, and wait awhile. I will have no answer now,
+Elizabeth. I will ask you again."</p>
+
+<p>"And suppose my answer is the same?"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be the same," said Percival, in a masterful sort of way. "You
+will understand by-and-bye."</p>
+
+<p>She did not see the fire in his eyes, nor the look of passionate
+yearning that crossed his face as he stood beside her, or she would
+scarcely have been surprised when he bent down suddenly and pressed his
+lips to her forehead. She started to her feet, colouring vividly and
+angrily. "How dare you, Percival!&mdash;--" she began. But she could not
+finish the sentence. Kitty called her from the other room. Kitty's face
+appeared; and the curtain was drawn aside by an unseen hand with a great
+clatter of rings upon the pole.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been all this time?" said she. "Isabel wants you,
+Lizzie. Percival, Mr. Vivian talks of going."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth vanished through the curtain. Percival had not even time to
+breathe into her ear the "Forgive me" with which he meant to propitiate
+her. He was not very penitent for his offence. He thought that he was
+sure of Elizabeth's pardon, because he thought himself sure of
+Elizabeth's love. But, as a matter of fact, that stolen kiss did not at
+all advance his cause with Elizabeth Murray.</p>
+
+<p>He did not see her again that night&mdash;a fact which sent him back to his
+lodging in an ill-satisfied frame of mind. He and Vivian shared a
+sitting-room between them; and, on their return from Mr. Heron's, they
+disposed themselves for their usual smoke and chat. But neither of them
+seemed inclined for conversation. Rupert lay back in a long
+lounging-chair; Percival turned over the leaves of a new publication
+which had been sent to him for review, and uttered disparaging comments
+upon it from time to time.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope all critics are not so hypercritical as you are," said Vivian at
+last, when the volume had finally been tossed to the other end of the
+room with an exclamation of disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Pah! why will people write such abominable stuff?" said Percival.
+"Reach me down that volume of Bacon's Essays behind you; I must have
+something to take the taste out of my mouth before I begin to write."</p>
+
+<p>Vivian handed him the book, and watched him with some interest as he
+read. The frown died away from his forehead, and the mouth gradually
+assumed a gentler expression before he had turned the first page. In
+five minutes he was so much absorbed that he did not hear the question
+which Vivian addressed to him.</p>
+
+<p>"What position," said Rupert, deliberately, "does Miss Murray hold in
+your father's house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What? What position?" Away went Percival's book to the floor; he
+raised himself in his chair, and began to light his pipe, which had gone
+out. "What do you mean?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she a ward of your father's? Is she a relation of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course, she is," said Percival, rather resentfully. "She is a
+cousin. Let me see. Her father, Gordon Murray, was my mother's brother.
+She is my first cousin. And Cinderella in general to the household," he
+added, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gordon Murray was her father? So I supposed. Then if poor Richard
+Luttrell had not died I suppose she would have been a sort of connection
+of my sister's. I remember Angela wondered whether Gordon Murray had
+left any family."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why? You know the degree of relationship and the terms of the will made
+by Mrs. Luttrell's father, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I."</p>
+
+<p>"Gordon Murray&mdash;this Miss Murray's father&mdash;was next heir after the two
+Luttrells, if they died childless. Of course, Brian is still living; but
+if he died, Miss Murray would inherit, I understand."</p>
+
+<p>"There's not much chance," said Percival, lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," responded Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>They were interrupted by a knock at the door. The landlady, with many
+apologies, brought them a telegram which had been left at the house
+during their absence, and which she had forgotten to deliver. It was
+addressed to Vivian, who tore it open, read it twice, and then passed it
+on to Percival without a word.</p>
+
+<p>It was from Angela Vivian, and contained these words only&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Brian Luttrell is dead."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>BROTHER DINO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Brian Luttrell left England he had no very clear idea of the places
+that he meant to visit, or the things that he wished to do. He wished
+only to leave old associations behind him&mdash;to forget, and, if possible
+to be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>He was conscious of a curious lack of interest in life; it seemed to him
+as though the very springs of his being were dried up at their source.
+As a matter of fact, he was thoroughly out of health, as well as out of
+spirits; he had been over-working himself in London, and was scarcely
+out of the doctor's hands before he went to Scotland; then the shock of
+his brother's death and the harshness of his mother toward him had
+contributed their share to the utter disorganisation of his faculties.
+In short, Brian was not himself at all; it might even be said that he
+was out of his right mind. He had attacks of headache, generally
+terminating in a kind of stupor rather than sleep, during which he could
+scarcely be held responsible for the things he said or did. At other
+times, a feverish restlessness came upon him; he could not sleep, and he
+could not eat; he would then go out and walk for miles and miles, until
+he was thoroughly exhausted. It was a wonder that his mind did not give
+way altogether. His sanity hung upon a thread.</p>
+
+<p>It was in this state that he found himself one day upon a Rhine boat,
+bound for Mainz. He had a very vague notion of how he had managed to get
+there; he had no notion at all of his reason for travelling in that
+direction. It dawned upon him by degrees that he had chosen the very
+same route, and made the same stoppages, as he had done when he was a
+mere boy, travelling with his father upon the Continent. Richard and his
+mother had not been there; Brian and Mr. Luttrell had spent a
+particularly happy time together, and the remembrance of it soothed his
+troubled brain, and caused his eye to rest with a sort of dreamy
+pleasure upon the scene around him.</p>
+
+<p>It was rather late for a Rhine expedition, and the boat was not at all
+full. Brian rather thought that the journey with his father had been
+taken at about the same time of the year&mdash;perhaps even a little later.
+He had a special memory of the wealth of Virginian creeper which covered
+the buildings near Coblentz. He looked out for it when the boat stopped
+at the landing-stage, and thought of the time when he had wandered
+hand-in-hand with his father in the pleasant Anlagen on the river banks,
+and gathered a scarlet trail of leaves from the castle walls. The leaves
+were in their full autumnal glory now; he must have been there at about
+the same season when he was a boy.</p>
+
+<p>After determining this fact to his satisfaction, Brian went back to the
+seat that he had found for himself at the end of the boat, and began
+once more to watch the gliding panorama of "castled crag" and vine-clad
+slope, which was hardly as familiar to him as it is to most of us. But,
+after all, Drachenfels and Ehrenbreitstein had no great interest for
+him. He had no great interest in anything. Perhaps the little excitement
+and bustle at the landing-places pleased him more than the scenery
+itself&mdash;the peasants shouting to each other from the banks, the baskets
+of grapes handed in one after another, the patient oxen waiting in the
+roads between the shafts; these were sights which made no great claim
+upon his attention and were curiously soothing to his jaded nerves. He
+watched them languidly, but was not sorry from time to time to close his
+eyes and shut out his surroundings altogether.</p>
+
+<p>The worst of it was, that when he had closed his eyes for a little time,
+the scene in the wood always came back to him with terrible
+distinctness, or else there rose up before his eyes a picture of that
+darkened room, with Richard's white face upon the pillow and his
+mother's dark form and outstretched hand. These were the memories that
+would not let him sleep at night or take his ease in the world by day.
+He could not forget the past.</p>
+
+<p>There was another passenger on the boat who passed and repassed Brian
+several times, and looked at him with curious attention. Brian's face
+was one which was always apt to excite interest. It had grown thin and
+pallid during the past fortnight; the eyes were set in deep hollows, and
+wore a painfully sad expression. He looked as if he had passed through
+some period of illness or sorrow of which the traces could never be
+wholly obliterated. There was a pathetic hopelessness in his face which
+was somewhat remarkable in so young a man.</p>
+
+<p>The passenger who regarded him with so much interest was also a young
+man, not more than Brian's own age, but apparently not an Englishman. He
+spoke English a little, though with a foreign accent, but his French was
+remarkably good and pure. He stopped short at last in front of Brian and
+eyed him attentively, evidently believing that the young man was asleep.
+But Brian was not asleep; he knew that the regular footstep of his
+travelling companion had ceased, and was hardly surprised, when he
+opened his eyes, to find the Frenchman&mdash;if such he were&mdash;standing before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked at him attentively for a moment, and recognised the fact
+that the young foreigner wore an ecclesiastical habit, a black <i>soutane</i>
+or cassock, such as is worn in Roman Catholic seminaries, not
+necessarily denoting that the person who wears it has taken priest's
+vows upon him. Brian was not sufficiently well versed in the subject to
+know what grade was signified by the dress of the young ecclesiastic,
+but he conjectured (chiefly from its plainness and extreme shabbiness)
+that it was not a very high one. The young man's face pleased him. It
+was intellectual and refined in contour, rather of the ascetic type;
+with that faint redness about the heavy eyelids which suggests an
+insufficiency of sleep or a too great amount of study; large,
+penetrating, dark eyes, underneath a broad, white brow; a firm mouth and
+chin. There was something about his face which seemed vaguely familiar
+to Brian; and yet he could not in the least remember where he had seen
+it before, or what associations it called up in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>The young man courteously raised his broad, felt hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," he said, "you are ill&mdash;suffering&mdash;can I do nothing for
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not ill, thank you. You are very good, but I want nothing," said
+Brian, with a feeling of annoyance which showed itself in the coldness
+of his manner. And yet he was attracted rather than repelled by the
+stranger's voice and manner. The voice was musical, the manner decidedly
+prepossessing. He was not sorry that the young ecclesiastic did not seem
+ready to accept the rebuff, but took a seat on the bench by his side,
+and made a remark upon the scenery through which they were passing.
+Brian responded slightly enough, but with less coldness; and in a few
+minutes&mdash;he did not know how it happened&mdash;he was talking to the stranger
+more freely than he had done to anyone since he left England. Their
+conversation was certainly confined to trivial topics; but there was a
+frankness and a delicacy of perception about the young foreigner which
+made him a very attractive companion. He gave Brian in a few words an
+outline of the chief events of his life, and seemed to expect no
+confidence from Brian in return. He had been brought up in a Roman
+Catholic seminary, and was destined to become a Benedictine monk. He was
+on his way to join an elder priest in Mainz; thence he expected to
+proceed to Italy, but was not sure of his destination.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall perhaps meet you again, then?" said Brian. "I am perhaps going
+to Italy myself."</p>
+
+<p>The young man smiled and shook his head. "You are scarcely likely to
+encounter me, monsieur," he answered. "I shall be busy amongst the poor
+and sick, or at work within the monastery. I shall remember you&mdash;but I
+do not think that we shall meet again."</p>
+
+<p>"By what name should I ask for you if I came across any of your order?"
+said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"I am generally known as Dino Vasari, or Brother Dino, at your service,
+monsieur," replied the Italian, cheerfully. "If, in your goodness, you
+wished to inquire after me, you should ask at the monastery of San
+Stefano, where I spend a few weeks every year in retreat. The Prior,
+Father Cristoforo, is an old friend of mine, and he will always welcome
+you if you should pass that way. There is good sleeping accommodation
+for visitors."</p>
+
+<p>Brian took the trouble to make an entry in his note-book to this effect.
+It turned out to be a singularly useful one. As they were reaching Mainz
+something prompted Brian to ask a question. "Why did you speak to me
+this afternoon?" he said, the morbid suspiciousness of a man who is sick
+in mind as well as body returning full upon him. "You do not know me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, monsieur, I do not know you." The ecclesiastic's pale brow flushed;
+he even looked embarrassed. "Monsieur," he said at last, "you had the
+appearance&mdash;you will pardon my saying so&mdash;of one who was either ill or
+bore about with him some unspoken trouble; it is the privilege of the
+Order to which I hope one day to belong to offer help when help is
+needed; and for a moment I hoped it might be my special privilege to
+give some help to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you think so?" Brian asked, hastily. "You did not know my
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>The Italian cast down his eyes. "Yes, monsieur," he said in a low tone,
+"I did know your name."</p>
+
+<p>Brian started up. He did not stop to weigh probabilities; he forgot how
+little likely a young foreign seminarist would be to hear news of an
+accident in Scotland; he felt foolishly certain that his name&mdash;as that
+of the man who had killed his brother&mdash;must be known to all the world!
+It was the wildest possible delusion, such as could occur only to a man
+whose mind was off its balance&mdash;and even he could not retain it for more
+than a minute or two; but in that space of time he uttered a few wild
+words, which caused the young monk to raise his dark eyes to his face
+with a look of sorrowful compassion.</p>
+
+<p>"Does everyone know my wretched story, then? Do I carry a mark about
+with me&mdash;like Cain?" Brian cried aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing of your story, monsieur," said Brother Dino, as he
+called himself, after a little pause, "When I said that I knew your
+name, I should more properly have said the name of your family. A
+gentleman of your name once visited the little town where I was brought
+up." He paused again and added gently, "I have peculiar reasons for
+remembering him. He was very good to a member of my family."</p>
+
+<p>Brian had recovered his self-possession before the end of the young
+priest's speech, and was heartily ashamed of his own weakness.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he said, sinking back into his seat with an air of
+weariness and discouragement that would have touched the heart of a
+tender-natured man, such as was Brother Dino of San Stefano. "I must be
+an utter fool to have spoken as I did. You knew my father, did you? That
+must be long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Many years." Brother Dino looked at the Englishman with some expression
+in his eyes which Brian did not remark at the moment, but which recurred
+afterwards to his memory as being singular. There was sympathy in it,
+pity, perhaps, and, above all, an intense curiosity. "Many years ago my
+friends knew him; not I. The Signor Luttrell&mdash;he lives still in your
+country?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He died eight years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A question evidently trembled on the Italian's lips, but he restrained
+himself. He could not ask it when he saw the pain and the dread in
+Brian's face. But Brian answered the question that he had meant to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother is dead, also. My mother is living and well."</p>
+
+<p>Then he wheeled round and looked at the landing-stage, to which they
+were now very close. The stranger respected his emotion; he glanced once
+at the band of crape on Brian's arm, and then walked quietly away. When
+he returned it was only to say good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see you again," Brian said to him. "Perhaps I may find
+you out and visit you some day. You find your life peaceful and happy,
+no doubt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"I envy you," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>They parted. Brian went away to his hotel, leaving the young seminarist
+still standing on the deck&mdash;a black figure with his pale hands crossed
+upon his breast in the glow of the evening sunshine, awaiting the
+arrival of his superior as a soldier waits for his commanding officer.
+Brian looked back at him once and waved his hand: he had not been so
+much interested in anyone for what seemed to him almost an eternity of
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting sadly and alone in the hotel that night, he fell to pondering
+over some of the words that the young Italian had spoken, and the
+questions that he had asked. He wondered greatly what was the service
+that his father had rendered to these Italians, and blamed himself a
+little for not asking more about the young man's history. He knew well
+enough that his parents had once spent two or three years
+abroad&mdash;chiefly in Italy; he himself had been born in an Italian town,
+and had spent almost the whole of the first year of his life in a little
+village at the foot of the Apennines. Was it not near a place called San
+Stefano, indeed, that he had been nursed by an Italian peasant woman?
+Brian determined, in a vague and dreamy way, that at some future time he
+would visit San Stefano, find out the history of his new acquaintance,
+and see the place where he had been born at the same time. That is if
+ever he felt inclined to do anything of the sort again. At present&mdash;and
+especially as the temporary interest inspired by the young Italian died
+away&mdash;he felt as if he cared too little for his future to resolve upon
+doing anything. There was a letter waiting for him, addressed in Mr.
+Colquhoun's handwriting. He had not even the heart to open it and see
+what the lawyer had to say. Something drew him next morning towards that
+wonderful old building of red stone, which looks as if it were hourly
+crumbling away, and yet has lasted so many hundred years, the cathedral
+of Mainz. The service was just over; the organ still murmured soft,
+harmonious cadences. The incense was wafted to his nostrils as he walked
+down the echoing nave. There had been a mass for the dead and a funeral
+that morning; part of the cathedral was draped in black cloth and
+ornamented by hundreds of wax candles, which flared in the sunlight and
+dropped wax on the uneven pavement below. There was an oppressiveness in
+the atmosphere to Brian; everything spoke to him of death and decay in
+that strange, old city, which might veritably be called a city of the
+dead. He turned aside into the cloisters, and listened mechanically
+while an old man discoursed to him in crabbed German concerning
+Fastrada's tomb and the carved face of the minstrel Frauenlob upon the
+cloister wall. Presently, however, the guide showed him a little door,
+and led him out into the pleasant grassy space round which the cloisters
+had been built. He was conscious of a great feeling of relief. The blue
+sky was above him again, and his feet were on the soft, green grass.
+There were tombstones amongst the grass, but they were overgrown with
+ivy and blossoming rose-trees. Brian sat down with a great sigh upon one
+of the old blocks of marble that strewed the ground, and told the guide
+to leave him there awhile. The man thought that he wanted to sketch the
+place, as many English artists did, and retired peacefully enough. Brian
+had no intention of sketching: he wanted only to feel himself alone, to
+watch the gay, little sparrows as they leaped from spray to spray of the
+monthly rose-trees, the waving of the long grass between the tombstones,
+and the glimpse of blue sky beyond the mouldering reddish walls on
+either hand.</p>
+
+<p>As he sat there, almost as though he were waiting for some expected
+visitor, the cloister doors opened once more, and two or three men in
+black gowns came out. They were all priests except one, and this one was
+the young Italian whose acquaintance Brian had made upon the steamer.
+They were talking rapidly together; one of them seemed to be questioning
+the young man, and he was replying with the serene yet earnest
+expression of countenance which had impressed Brian so favourably. At
+first they stood still; by-and-bye they crossed the quadrangle, and here
+Brother Dino fell somewhat behind the others. Following a sudden
+impulse, Brian suddenly rose as he came near, and addressed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you speak to me? I want to ask you about my father&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in English, but the young priest replied in Italian.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot speak to you now. Wait till we meet at San Stefano."</p>
+
+<p>The words might be abrupt, but the smile which followed them was so
+sweet, so benign, that Brian was only struck with a sudden sense of the
+beauty of the expression upon that keen Italian face. "God be with you!"
+said Brother Dino, as he passed on. He stretched out his hand; it held
+one of the faintly-pink, sweet roses, which he had plucked near the
+cloister door. He almost thrust it into Brian's passive fingers. "God be
+with you," he said, in his native tongue once more. "Farewell, brother."
+In another moment he was gone. Brian had the green enclosure, the birds
+and the roses to himself once more.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at the little overblown flower in his hand and carried it
+mechanically to his nostrils. It was very sweet.</p>
+
+<p>"Why does he think that I shall go to San Stefano?" he asked himself.
+"What is San Stefano to me? Why should I meet him there?"</p>
+
+<p>He sat down again, holding the flower loosely in one hand, and resting
+his head upon the other. The old langour and sickness of heart were
+coming back upon him; the momentary excitement had passed away. He would
+have given a great deal to be able to rouse himself from the depression
+which had taken such firm hold of his mind; but he failed to discover
+any means of doing so. He had a vague, morbid fancy that Brother Dino
+could help him to master his own trouble&mdash;he knew not how; but this hope
+had failed him. He did not even care to go to San Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>After a little time he remembered the letter in his pocket, addressed to
+him in Mr. Colquhoun's handwriting. He took it out and looked at it for
+a few minutes. Why should Mr. Colquhoun write to him unless he had
+something unpleasant to say? Perhaps he was only forwarding some
+letters. This quiet, grassy quadrangle was a good place in which to read
+letters, he thought. He would open the envelope and see what Colquhoun
+had to say.</p>
+
+<p>He opened it very slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Then he started, and his hand began to tremble. The only letter enclosed
+was one in his mother's handwriting. Upon a slip of blue paper were a
+few words from the lawyer. "Forwarded to Mr. Brian Luttrell at Mrs.
+Luttrell's request on the 25th of October, 1877, by James Colquhoun."</p>
+
+<p>Brian opened the letter. It had no formal opening, but it was carefully
+signed and dated, and ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They tell me that I have done you an injury by doubting your word, and
+that I am an unnatural mother in saying&mdash;even in my own chamber&mdash;what I
+thought. I have an excuse, which no one knows but myself and James
+Colquhoun. I think it is well under present circumstances to tell you
+what it is.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a strong believer in race. I think that the influence of blood is
+far more powerful than those of training or education, how strong soever
+they may be. Therefore, I was never astonished although I was grieved,
+to see that your love for Richard was not so great as that of brothers
+should have been&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is false!" said Brian, with a groan, crushing the letter in his
+hand, and letting it fall to his side. "No brother could have loved
+Richard more than I."</p>
+
+<p>Presently he took up the letter again and read.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I knew," it went on, "though many a woman in my position would
+not have guessed the truth, that you were not Richard's brother at all:
+that you were not my son."</p>
+
+<p>Again Brian paused, this time in utter bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Is my mother mad" he said to himself. "I&mdash;not her son? Who am I, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I repeat what I have said,"&mdash;so ran Mrs. Luttrell's letter&mdash;"with all
+the emphasis which I can lay upon the words. The matter may not be
+capable of proof, but the truth remains. You are not my son, not Edward
+Luttrell's son, not Richard Luttrell's brother&mdash;no relation of ours at
+all; not even of English or Scottish blood. Your parents were Italian
+peasant-folk; and my son, Brian Luttrell, lies buried in the churchyard
+of an Italian village at the foot of the Western Apennines. You are a
+native of San Stefano, and your mother was my nurse."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"When my child Brian was born we were renting a villa near San Stefano,
+and were somewhat far removed from any English doctor. My doctor was,
+therefore, an Italian; and what was worse, he was an Italian monk. I
+hate foreigners, and I hate monks; so you may imagine for yourself the
+way in which I looked upon him. No doubt he had a hand in the plot that
+has ended so miserably for me and mine, so fortunately for you.</p>
+
+<p>"My Brian was nursed by our gardener's wife, a young Italian woman
+called Vincenza, whose child was about the age of mine. I saw Vincenza's
+child several times. Its eyes were brown (like yours); my baby's eyes
+were blue. It was when they were both about two months old that I was
+seized with a malarious fever, then very prevalent. They kept the
+children away from me for months. At last I insisted upon seeing them.
+The baby had been ill, they told me; I must be prepared for a great
+change in him. Even then my heart misgave me, I knew not why.</p>
+
+<p>"Vincenza brought a child and laid it in my lap, I looked at it, and
+then I looked at her. She was deadly white, and her eyes were red with
+tears. I did not know why. Of course I see now that she had enough of
+the mother's heart in her to be loath to give up her child. For it was
+her child that she had placed upon my knee. I knew it from the very
+first.</p>
+
+<p>"'Take this child away and give me my own,' I said. 'This is not mine.'</p>
+
+<p>"The woman threw up her hands and ran out of the room. I thought she had
+gone to fetch my baby, and I remained with her child&mdash;a puny, crying
+thing&mdash;upon my knees. But she did not return. Presently my husband came
+in, and I appealed to him. 'Tell Vincenza to take her wretched, little
+baby away,' I said. 'I want my own. This is her child; not mine.'</p>
+
+<p>"My husband looked at me, pityingly, as it seemed to my eyes. Suddenly
+the truth burst upon me. I sprang to my feet and threw the baby away
+from me upon the bed. 'My child is dead,' I cried. 'Tell me the truth;
+my child is dead.' And then I knew no more for days and weeks.</p>
+
+<p>"When I recovered, I found, to my utter horror, that Vincenza and her
+child had not left the house. My words had been taken for the ravings of
+a mad woman. Every one believed the story of this wicked Italian woman
+who declared that it was her child who had died, mine that had lived! I
+knew better. Could I be mistaken in the features of my own child? Had my
+Brian those great, dark, brown eyes? I saw how it was. The Italians had
+plotted to put their child in my Brian's place; they had forgotten that
+a mother's instinct would know her own amongst a thousand. I accused
+them openly of their wickedness; and, in spite of their tears and
+protestations, I saw from their guilty looks that it was true. My own
+Brian was dead, and I was left with Vincenza's child, and expected to
+love it as my own.</p>
+
+<p>"For nobody believed me. My husband never believed me. He maintained to
+the very last that you were his child and mine. I fought like a wild
+beast for my dead child's rights; but even I was mastered in the end.
+They threatened me&mdash;yes, James Colquhoun, in my husband's name,
+threatened me&mdash;with a madhouse, if I did not put away from me the
+suspicion that I had conceived. They assured me that Brian was not dead;
+that it was Vincenza's child that had died; that I was incapable of
+distinguishing one baby from another&mdash;and so on. They said that I should
+be separated from my own boy&mdash;my Richard, whom I tenderly loved&mdash;unless
+I put away from me this 'insane fancy,' and treated that Italian baby as
+my son. Oh, they were cruel to me&mdash;very cruel. But they got their way. I
+yielded because I could not bear to leave my husband and my boy. I let
+them place the child in my arms, and I learnt to call it Brian. I buried
+the secret in my own heart, but I was never once moved from my opinion.
+My own child was buried at San Stefano, and the boy that I took back
+with me to England was the gardener's son. You were that boy.</p>
+
+<p>"I was silent about your parentage, but I never loved you, and my
+husband knew that I did not. For that reason, I suppose, he made you his
+favourite. He petted you, caressed you more than was reasonable or
+right. Only once did any conversation on the subject pass between us. He
+had refused to punish you when you were a boy of ten, and had quarrelled
+with Richard. 'Mark my words,' I said to him, 'there will be more
+quarrelling, and with worse results, if you do not put a stop to it now.
+I should never trust a lad of Italian blood.' He looked at me, turning
+pale as he looked. 'Have you not forgotten that unhappy delusion, then?'
+he said. 'It is no delusion,' I answered him, composedly, 'to remind
+myself sometimes that this boy&mdash;Brian, as you call him&mdash;is the son of
+Giovanni Vasari and his wife.' 'Margaret,' he said, 'you are a mad
+woman!' He went out, shutting the door hastily behind him. But he never
+misunderstood me again. Do you know what were his last words to me upon
+his death-bed? 'Don't tell him,' he said, pointing to you with his weak,
+dying hand, 'If you ever loved me, Margaret, don't tell him.' And then
+he died, before I had promised not to tell. If I had promised then, I
+would have kept my word.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew what he meant. I resolved that I would never tell you. And but
+for Richard's death I would have held my tongue. But to see you in
+Richard's place, with Richard's money and Richard's lands, is more than
+I can bear. I will not tell this story to the world, but I refuse to
+keep you in ignorance any longer. If you like to possess Richard's
+wealth dishonestly, you are at liberty to do so. Any court of law would
+give it to you, and say that it was legally yours. There is, I imagine,
+no proof possible of the truth of my suspicions. Your mother and father
+are, I believe, both dead. I do not remember the name of the monk who
+acted as my doctor. There may be relations of your parents at San
+Stefano, but they are not likely to know the story of Vincenza's child.
+At any rate, you are not ignorant any longer of the reasons for which I
+believe it possible that you knew what you were doing when you were
+guilty of Richard Luttrell's death. There is not a drop of honest Scotch
+or English blood in your veins. You are an Italian, and I have always
+seen in your character the faults of the race to which by birth and
+parentage you belong. If I had not been weak enough to yield to the
+threats and the entreaties with which my husband and his tools assailed
+me, you would now be living, as your forefathers lived, a rude and hardy
+peasant on the North Italian plains; and I&mdash;I might have been a happy
+woman still."</p>
+
+<p>The letter bore the signature "Margaret Luttrell," and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>The custodian of the place wondered what had come to the English
+gentleman; he sat so still, with his face buried in his hands, and some
+open sheets of paper at his feet. The old man had a pretty, fair-haired
+daughter who could speak English a little. He called her and pointed out
+the stranger's bowed figure from one of the cloister windows.</p>
+
+<p>"He looks as if he had had some bad news," said the girl. "Do you think
+that he is ill, father? Shall I take him a glass of water, and ask him
+to walk into the house?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian was aroused from a maze of wretched, confused thought by the touch
+of Gretchen's light hand upon his arm. She had a glass of water in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Would the gentleman not drink?" she asked him, with a look of pity that
+startled him from his absorption. "The sun was hot that day, and the
+gentleman had chosen the hottest place to sit in; would he not rather
+choose the cool cloister, or her father's house, for one little hour or
+two?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian stammered out some words of thanks, and drank the water eagerly.
+He would not stay, however; he had bad news which compelled him to move
+on quickly&mdash;as quickly as possible. And then, with a certain whiteness
+about the lips, and a look of perplexed pain in his eyes, he picked up
+the papers as they lay strewn upon the grass, bowed to Gretchen with
+mechanical politeness, and made his way to the door by which he had come
+in. One thing he forgot; he never thought of it until long afterwards;
+the sweet, frail rose that Brother Dino had placed within his hand when
+he bade him God-speed. In less than an hour he was in the train; he
+hardly knew why or whither he was bound; he knew only that one of his
+restless fits had seized him and was driving him from the town in the
+way that it was wont to do.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell's letter was a great shock to him. He never dreamt at
+first of questioning the truth of her assertions. He thought it very
+likely that she had been perfectly able to judge, and that her husband
+had been mistaken in treating the matter as a delusion. At any time,
+this conviction would have been a sore trouble to him, for he had loved
+her and her husband and Richard very tenderly, but just now it seemed to
+him almost more than he could bear. He had divested himself of nearly
+the whole of what had been considered his inheritance, because he
+disliked so much the thought of profiting by Richard's death; was he
+also now to divest himself of the only name that he had known, of the
+country that he loved, of the nation that he had been proud to call his
+own? If his mother's story were true, he was, as she had said, the son
+of an Italian gardener called Vasari; his name then must be Vasari; his
+baptismal name he did not know. And Brian Luttrell did not exist; or
+rather, Brian Luttrell had been buried as a baby in the little
+churchyard of San Stefano. It was a bitter thought to him.</p>
+
+<p>But it could not be true. His whole being rose up in revolt against the
+suggestion that the father whom he had loved so well had not been his
+own father; that Richard had been of no kin to him. Surely his mother's
+mind must have been disordered when she refused to acknowledge him. It
+could not possibly be true that he was not her son. At any rate, one
+duty was plain to him. He must go to San Stefano and ascertain, as far
+as he could, the true history of the Vasari family. And in the meantime
+he could write to Mr. Colquhoun. He was obliged to go on to Geneva, as
+he knew that letters and remittances were to await him there. As soon as
+he had received the answer that Mr. Colquhoun would send to his letter
+of inquiry, he would proceed to Italy at once.</p>
+
+<p>Some delay in obtaining the expected remittances kept Brian for more
+than a week at Geneva. And there, in spite of the seclusion in which he
+chose to live, and his resolute avoidance of all society, it happened
+that before he had been in the place three days he met an old University
+acquaintance&mdash;a strong, cheery, good-natured fellow called Gunston,
+whose passion for climbing Swiss mountains seemed to be unappeasable. He
+tried hard to make Brian accompany him on his next expedition, but
+failed. Both strength and energy were wanting to him at this time.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun's answers to Brian's communications were short, and, to
+the young-man's mind, unsatisfactory. "At the time when Mrs. Luttrell
+first made the statement that she believed you to be Vincenza Vasari's
+son, her mind was in a very unsettled state. Medical evidence went to
+show that mothers did at times conceive a violent dislike to one or
+other of their children. This was probably a case in point. The Vasaris
+were honest, respectable people, and there was no reason to suppose that
+any fraud had been perpetrated. At the same time, it was impossible to
+convince Mrs. Luttrell that her own child had not died; and Mr.
+Colquhoun was of opinion that she would never acknowledge Brian as her
+son again, or consent to hold any personal intercourse with him."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be better if I were dead and out of all this uncertainty,"
+said Brian, bitterly, when he had read the letter. Yet, something in it
+gave him a sort of stimulus. He took several long excursions, late
+though the season was; and in a few days he again encountered Gunston,
+who was delighted to welcome him as a companion. Brian was a practised
+mountaineer; and though his health had lately been impaired, he seemed
+to regain it in the cold, clear air of the Swiss Alps. Gunston did not
+find him a genial companion; he was silent and even grim; but he was a
+daring climber, and exposed his life sometimes with a hardihood which
+approached temerity.</p>
+
+<p>But a day arrived on which Brian's climbing feats came to an end. They
+had made an easy ascent, and were descending the mountain on the
+southern side, when an accident took place. It was one which often
+occurs, and which can be easily pictured to oneself. They were crossing
+some loose snow when the whole mass began to move, slowly first, then
+rapidly, down the slope of the mountain-side.</p>
+
+<p>Brian sank almost immediately up to his waist in the snow. He noticed
+that the guide had turned his face to the descent and stretched out his
+arms, and he imitated this action as well as he was able, hoping in that
+manner to keep them free. But he was too deeply sunk in the snow to be
+able to turn round, and as he was in the rear of the others he could not
+see what became of his companions. He heard one shout from Gunston, and
+that was all&mdash;"Good God, Luttrell, we're lost!" And then the avalanche
+swept them onwards, first with a sharp, hissing sound, and then with a
+grinding roar as of thunder, and Brian gave himself up for lost, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>He was not sorry. Death was the easiest possible solution of all his
+difficulties. He had looked for it many times; but he was glad to think
+that on this day, at least, he had not sought it of his own free will.
+He thought of his mother&mdash;he could not call her otherwise in this last
+hour&mdash;he thought of the father and the brother who had been dear to him
+in this world, and would not, he believed, be less dear to him in the
+next; he thought of Angela, who would be a little sorry for him, and
+Hugo, whom he could no longer help out of his numerous difficulties. All
+these memories of his old home and friends flashed over his mind in less
+than a second of time. He even thought of the estate, and of the Miss
+Murray who would inherit it. And then he tried to say a little prayer,
+but could not fix his mind sufficiently to put any petition into words.</p>
+
+<p>And at this point he became aware that he was descending less rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>His head and arms were fortunately still free. By a side glance he saw
+that the snow at some distance before him had stopped sliding
+altogether. Then it ceased to move at a still higher point, until at the
+spot where he lay it also became motionless, although above him it was
+still rushing down as if to bury him in a living grave. He threw his
+hands up above his head, and made a furious effort to extricate himself
+before the snow should freeze around him. And in this effort he was more
+successful than he had even hoped to be. But the pressure of the snow
+upon him was so great that he thought at first that it would break his
+ribs. When the motion had ceased, however, this pressure became less
+powerful; by the help of his ice-axe he managed to free himself, and
+knew that he was as yet unhurt, if not yet safe.</p>
+
+<p>He looked round for his friend and for the guides. They had all been
+roped together, but the rope had broken between himself and his
+companions. He saw only one prostrate form, and, at some little
+distance, the hand of a man protruding from the white waste of snow.</p>
+
+<p>The thought of affording help to the other members of the party
+stimulated Brian to efforts which he would not, perhaps, have made on
+his own account. In a short time he was able to make his way to the man
+lying face downwards in the snow. He had already recognised him as one
+of the guides. It needed but a slight examination to convince him that
+this man was dead&mdash;not from suffocation or cold, but from the effects of
+a wound inflicted in the fall. The hand, sticking out of the snow
+belonged to the other guide; it was cold and stiff, and with all his
+efforts Brian could not succeed in extricating the body from the snow in
+which it was tightly wedged. Of the young Englishman, Gunston, and the
+other guide, there was absolutely nothing to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>Brian turned sick and faint when the conviction was forced upon him that
+he would see his friend no more. His limbs failed him; he could not go
+on. He was born to misfortune, he said to himself; born to bring trouble
+and sorrow upon his companions and friends. Without him, Gunston would
+not, perhaps, have attempted this ascent. And how could he carry home to
+Gunston's family the story of his death?</p>
+
+<p>After all, it was very unlikely that he would reach the bottom of the
+mountain in safety. He had no guide; he was utterly ignorant of the way.
+There were pitfalls without number in his path&mdash;crevasses, precipices,
+treacherous ice-bridges, and slippery, loose snow. He would struggle on
+until the end came, however; better to move, even towards death, than to
+lie down and perish miserably of cold.</p>
+
+<p>It is said sometimes that providence keeps a special watch over children
+and drunken men; that is to say, that those who are absolutely incapable
+of caring for themselves do sometimes, by wonderful good fortune, escape
+the dangers into which sager persons are apt to fall. So it seemed with
+Brian Luttrell. For hours he struggled onwards, sore pressed by cold,
+and fatigue, and pain; but at last, long after night had fallen, he
+staggered into a little hamlet on the southern side of the mountain,
+footsore and fainting, indeed, but otherwise unharmed.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody noticed his arrival very much. The villagers took him in, put him
+to bed, and gave him food and drink, but they did not seem to think that
+he was one of "the rich Englishmen" who sometimes visited their village,
+and they did not at all realise what he had done. To make the descent
+that Brian had done without a guide would have appeared to them little
+short of miraculous.</p>
+
+<p>Brian had no opportunity of explaining to them how he had come. He was
+carried insensible into the one small inn that the village contained and
+put to bed, where he woke up delirious and quite unable to give any
+account of himself. When his mind was again clear, he remembered that it
+was his duty to tell the story of the accident on the mountain, but as
+soon as he uttered a few words on the subject he was met by an animated
+and circumstantial account of the affair in all its details. Two
+Englishmen, and two guides, and a porter had been crossing the mountain
+when the avalanche took place; a guide and a porter had been killed, and
+their bodies had been recovered. One Englishman had been killed also,
+and the other&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the other," began Brian, hurriedly, but the innkeeper stolidly
+continued his story. The other had made his way back with the guide to
+the nearest town. He was there still, and had been making expeditions
+every day upon the mountain to find the dead body of his friend. But he
+had given up the search now, and was returning to England on the morrow.
+He had done all he could, poor gentleman, and it was more than a week
+since the accident took place.</p>
+
+<p>Brian suddenly put his head down on his pillow and lay still. Here was
+the chance for which his soul had yearned! If the innkeeper spoke the
+truth, he&mdash;Brian Luttrell&mdash;was already numbered amongst the dead. Why
+should he take the trouble to come back to life?</p>
+
+<p>"Were none of the Englishman's clothes or effects found?" he asked,
+presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, monsieur. His pocket-book&mdash;his hat. They were close to a
+dangerous crevasse. A guide was lowered down it for fifty, eighty, feet,
+but nothing of the unfortunate Englishman was to be seen. If he did not
+fall into the crevasse his body may be recovered in the spring&mdash;but
+hardly before. Yes, his pocket-book and his hat, monsieur." A sudden
+gleam came into the little innkeeper's eyes, and he spoke somewhat
+interrogatively&mdash;"Monsieur arrived here also without his hat?"</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the possibility occurred to the innkeeper's mind of
+his guest's identity with the missing Englishman. Brian answered with a
+certain reluctance; he did not like the part that he would have to play.</p>
+
+<p>"I lost my way in walking from V&mdash;&mdash;," he said, mentioning a town at some
+distance from the mountain-pass by which he had really come; "and my hat
+was blown off by a gust of wind. The weather was not good. I lost my
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"True, monsieur. There was rain and there was wind: doubtless monsieur
+wandered from the right track," said the innkeeper, accepting the
+explanation in all good faith.</p>
+
+<p>When he left the room, Brian examined his belongings with care. Nothing
+in his possession was marked, owing to the fact that his clothes were
+mostly new ones, purchased with a view to mountaineering requirements.
+His pocket-book was lost. Mrs. Luttrell's letter and one or two other
+papers, however, remained with him, and he had sufficient money in his
+pockets to pay the innkeeper and preserve him from starvation for a
+time. He wondered that nobody had reported an unknown traveller to be
+lying ill in the village; but it was plain that his escape had been
+thought impossible. Even Gunston had given him up for lost. As he learnt
+afterwards, it was believed that he had not been able to sever the rope,
+and that he, with one of the guides, had fallen into a crevasse. The
+rope went straight down into the cleft, and he was believed to be at the
+end of it. There was not the faintest doubt in the mind of the survivors
+but that Brian Luttrell was dead. It remained for Brian himself to
+decide whether he should go back to the town, reclaim his luggage, and
+take up life again at the point where he seemed to have let it drop&mdash;or
+go forth into the world, penniless and homeless, without a name, without
+a hope for the future, and without a friend.</p>
+
+<p>Which should he do?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Elizabeth an heiress! Elizabeth, with a fortune of her own!" said Mrs.
+Heron. "It is perfectly incredible."</p>
+
+<p>"It is perfectly true," rejoined her step-son. "And it has been true for
+the last three days."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Elizabeth does not know it," replied Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"As to whether she knows it or not," said Percival, sardonically, "I am
+quite unable to form any opinion. Elizabeth has a talent for keeping
+secrets."</p>
+
+<p>He was not sorry that the door opened at that moment, and that
+Elizabeth, entering with little Jack in her arms, must have heard his
+words. She flashed a quick look at him&mdash;it was one that savoured of
+reproach&mdash;and advanced into the middle of the room, where she stood
+silent, waiting to be accused.</p>
+
+<p>It was twelve o'clock on the morning of a bright, cold November
+day. Mrs. Heron was lying on the sofa in the dining-room&mdash;a
+shabbily-comfortable, old-fashioned room where most of the business of
+the house was transacted. Kitty sat on a low chair before the fire,
+warming her little, cold hands. She had a cat on her lap, and a novel on
+the floor beside her, and looked very young, very pretty, and very idle.
+Percival was fidgetting about the room with a glum and sour expression
+of countenance. He was evidently much out of sorts, both in body and
+mind, for his face was unusually sallow in tint, and there was a dark,
+upright line between his brows which his relations knew and&mdash;dreaded.
+The genial, sunshiny individual of a few evenings back had disappeared,
+and a decidedly bad-tempered young man now took his place.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Heron's pretty, pale face wore an unaccustomed flush; and as she
+looked at Elizabeth the tears came into her blue eyes, and she pressed
+them mildly with her handkerchief. Elizabeth waited in patience; she was
+not sure of the side from which the attack would be made, but she was
+sure that it was coming. Percival, with his hands thrust deep into his
+pockets, leaned against a sideboard, and looked at her with disfavour.
+She was paler than usual, and there were dark lines beneath her eyes.
+What made her look like that! Percival thought to himself. One might
+fancy that she had been lying awake all night, if the thing were not
+(under the circumstances) well-nigh impossible! But perhaps it was only
+her ill-fitting, unbecoming, old, serge gown that made her look so pale.
+Percival was in the humour to see all her faults and defects that
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you carry that great boy about?" he said, almost harshly. "You
+know that he is too big to be carried. Do put him down."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, put him down, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Heron, still pressing her
+handkerchief to her eye. "I am sure I have no desire to inflict any
+hardship upon you. If you devoted yourself to my children, I thought
+that it was from choice and because you had an affection for your
+uncle's family. But you seem to have had no affection&mdash;no respect&mdash;no
+confidence&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A gentle sob cut short her words.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done?" said Elizabeth. Her face had turned a shade paler
+than before, but betrayed no sign of confusion. "Lie still, Jack; I do
+not mean to put you down just yet. Indeed, I think I had better carry
+you upstairs again." She left the room swiftly, pausing only at the door
+to add a few words: "I will be down again directly. I shall be glad if
+Percival will wait."</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence, during which Mrs. Heron dried her eyes, and
+Percival stared uncomfortably at the toe of his left boot.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely Elizabeth has a right to her own secrets," said Kitty, from her
+station on the hearth. But nobody replied.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Elizabeth came down again, with a couple of letters in her
+hand. It seemed almost as if she had been upstairs to rub a little life
+and colour into her face, for her cheeks were carnation when she
+returned, and her eyes unusually bright.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me what I have done that distresses you?" she said,
+addressing herself steadily to Mrs. Heron, though she saw Percival
+glance eagerly, hungrily, towards the letters in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I have no right to be distressed," replied Mrs. Heron, still,
+however, in an exceedingly hurt tone. "Your own affairs are your own
+property, my dear Lizzie, as Kitty has just remarked; but, considering
+the care and&mdash;the&mdash;the affection-lavished upon you here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped short; Percival's dark eyes were darting their angry
+lightning upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"A care and affection," he said, "which condemned her to the nursery in
+order that she might indulge her extreme love for children, and save you
+the expense of a nursery-maid."</p>
+
+<p>"You have no right to make such a remark, Percival!" exclaimed his
+step-mother, feebly, but she quailed beneath the sneer instead of
+resenting it. Elizabeth turned sharply upon her cousin.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "you have no right to make such a remark. As you know
+very well, I had no friends, no money, no home, when Uncle Alfred
+brought me here. I was a beggar&mdash;I should have starved, perhaps&mdash;but for
+him. I owe him everything&mdash;and I do not forget my debt."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything," said Percival, incisively, "except, I suppose, your
+confidence."</p>
+
+<p>She turned away and walked up to Mrs. Heron's sofa. Here her manner
+changed, it became soft and womanly; her voice took a gentler tone.
+"What is it, Aunt Isabel?" she said. "I am ready to give you all the
+confidence that you wish for. I will have no secrets from you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, Lizzie, is it true?" said Kitty, upsetting the cat in her
+haste, and flying across the room to her cousin's side, while Mrs.
+Heron, taken by surprise, did nothing but sob helplessly and hold
+Elizabeth's firm, white hand in a feeble grasp. "Is it really true? Have
+you inherited a great fortune? Are you going to be very rich?"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth made a little pause before she answered the question. "Brian
+Luttrell is dead," she said at last, rather slowly. "And I am very
+sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"And the Luttrells are your cousins? And you are the heiress after
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But when did you know this first?" said Kitty, anxiously looking up
+into her tall cousin's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, when did you know it first?" repeated Mrs. Heron, with a weak and
+sighing attempt at solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that I was the Luttrells' cousin all my life," said Elizabeth.
+There was a touch of perversity in her answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes. But when did you know that you were the next heir&mdash;or
+heiress? You cannot have known that all your life," said Mrs. Heron.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know that until a few days ago. I had a letter from a lawyer
+when Brian Luttrell went abroad. Mr. Brian Luttrell wished him to
+communicate with me and to tell me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Mrs. Heron, curiously. "To tell you what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That it was probable that the property would come to me," Elizabeth
+answered, for the first time with some embarrassment, "as he did not
+intend to marry. And that he wished to settle a certain sum upon me&mdash;in
+case I might be in want of money now."</p>
+
+<p>"And that was a fortnight ago?" said Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Elizabeth, without looking at him, "nearly a fortnight ago."</p>
+
+<p>"This is very interesting," said Mrs. Heron, who was languidly
+brightening as she heard Elizabeth's story and recognised the fact that
+substantial advantages were likely to accrue to the household from
+Elizabeth's good fortune. "And of course you accepted the offer, Lizzie
+dear? But why did you not tell us at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"I waited until things should be settled. The matter might have fallen
+through. It did not seem worth while to mention it until it was
+settled," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"How much did he offer you? Mr. Brian Luttrell must have been a very
+generous man."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he was&mdash;very generous," said Elizabeth, looking up warmly. "I
+considered the matter for some time, and I wished that I could accept
+his kindness, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say that you refused it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not refuse it altogether," explained Elizabeth, her face glowing.
+"I told him my circumstances, and all that my uncle had done for me, and
+that if he chose to place a sum of money at my uncle's disposal&mdash;I
+thought that, perhaps, it would be only right, and that I ought not to
+place an obstacle in the way. But I could not take anything for myself."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lizzie, how good you are!" cried Kitty, softly.</p>
+
+<p>Percival took a step nearer; his face looked very dark.</p>
+
+<p>"And, pray, what did the lawyer say to your proposition?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"He said he must communicate with Mr. Brian Luttrell, but he thought
+that there would be no objection to it on his part," said Elizabeth.
+"But he had not time to do so, you see. Brian Luttrell is dead. Here are
+all the letters about it, Aunt Isabel, if you want to see them. I was
+going to speak to Uncle Alfred this very day."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lizzie," said Mrs. Heron, taking the letters from her niece's
+hand, "I am glad that we are honoured by your confidence at last. I
+think it would have been better, however, if you had told us a little
+earlier of poor Mr. Luttrell's kindness, and then other people could
+have managed the business for you. Of course, it would have been
+repugnant to your feelings to accept money for yourself, and another
+person could have accepted it in your name with a much better grace."</p>
+
+<p>"But that is what I wanted to avoid," said Elizabeth, with a smile. "I
+would not have taken one penny for myself from Mr. Brian Luttrell, but
+if he would have repaid my uncle for part of what he has done for
+me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her sentence came to an abrupt end. Percival had turned aside and flung
+himself into an arm-chair near the fire. He was the picture of
+ill-humour; and something in his face took away from Elizabeth the
+desire to say more. Mrs. Heron read the letters complacently, and Kitty
+put her arm round her cousin's, waist and tried to draw her towards the
+hearth-rug for a gossip. But Elizabeth preserved her position near Mrs.
+Heron's sofa, although she looked down at the girl with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I know what Isabel meant&mdash;what we all meant," said Kitty, "when we were
+so disagreeable to you a little time ago, Lizzie. We all felt that we
+could not for one moment have kept a secret from you, and we resented
+your superior self-control. Fancy your knowing all this for the last
+fortnight, and never saying a word about it! Tell me in confidence,
+Lizzie, now didn't you want to whisper it to me, under solemn vows of
+secrecy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you would never have kept your vows," said Elizabeth. "I
+meant to tell you very soon, Kitty."</p>
+
+<p>"And so you are a rich woman, Elizabeth!" observed Mrs. Heron, putting
+down the letters and smoothing out her dress. "Dear me, how strangely
+things come round! Who would have dreamt, ten years ago, that you would
+ever be richer than all of us&mdash;richer than your poor uncle, who was then
+so kind to you! Some people are very fortunate!"</p>
+
+<p>"Some people deserve to be fortunate, Isabel," said Kitty, caressing
+Elizabeth's hand, in order to soften down the effect of Mrs. Heron's
+sub-acid speech. But Elizabeth did not seem to be annoyed by it. She was
+thinking of other things.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that if any one deserves it, Elizabeth does," said Mrs.
+Heron, recovering her usual placidity of demeanour. "She has always been
+good and kind to everyone around her. I tremble to think of what will
+become of dear Harry, and Will, and Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"What should become of them?" said Kitty, in a startled tone.</p>
+
+<p>"When Elizabeth leaves us"&mdash;Mrs. Heron murmured, applying her
+handkerchief to her eyes&mdash;"the poor children will know the difference."</p>
+
+<p>"But you won't leave us, will you, Elizabeth?" cried Kitty, clinging
+more closely to her cousin, and looking up to her with tears in her
+eyes. "You wouldn't go away from us, after living with us all these
+years, darling? Oh, I thought that you loved us as if you were really
+our own sister, and that nothing would ever take you away!"</p>
+
+<p>Still Elizabeth did not speak. Kitty's brown head rested on her
+shoulder, and she stroked it gently with one hand. Her lips were very
+grave, but her eyes, as she raised them for a moment to Percival's face,
+had a smile hidden in their hazel depths&mdash;a smile which he could not
+understand, and which, therefore, made him angry. He rose and stood on
+the hearth-rug with his hands behind him, as he delivered his little
+homily for Kitty's benefit.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you do not expect that Elizabeth will care to sacrifice
+herself all her life for us and the children," he said. "It would be as
+unreasonable of you to ask it as it would be foolish of her to do it. Of
+course, she will now begin to enjoy the world a little. She has had few
+enough enjoyments, hitherto&mdash;we need not grudge them to her now."</p>
+
+<p>But one would have thought that he himself, grudged them to her
+considerably.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean to do, Lizzie?" said Kitty, dolefully, "shall you take
+a house in town? or will you go and live in Scotland&mdash;all that long,
+long way from us? And shall you"&mdash;lifting her face rather
+wistfully&mdash;"shall you keep any horses and dogs?"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth laughed; she could not help it, although her laugh brought an
+additional pucker to the forehead of one of her hearers, who could not
+detect the tremulousness that lurked behind the clear, ringing tones.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well for you to laugh," he said, gloomily, "and, of course, you
+have the right, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How interesting it will be," Mrs. Heron's, pensive voice was understood
+to murmur, when Percival's gruff speech had come to a sudden conclusion,
+"to notice the use dear Lizzie makes of her wealth! I wonder what her
+income will be, and whether the Luttrells' kept up a large
+establishment."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Elizabeth, suddenly loosening herself from Kitty's arms and
+standing erect before them with a face that paled and eyes that deepened
+with emotion, "does it not occur to you through what trouble and misery
+this 'good fortune,' as you call it, has come to me? Does it not seem
+wrong to you to plan what pleasure I can get out of it, when you think
+of that poor mother sitting at home and mourning over her two sons&mdash;two
+young, strong men&mdash;dead in the very prime of life? And Miss Vivian, too,
+with her spoiled life and her shattered hopes&mdash;she once expected to be
+the mistress of the very house that they now call mine! I hate the
+thought of it. Please never speak to me as if it were a matter for
+congratulation. I should be heartily glad&mdash;heartily thankful&mdash;if Brian
+Luttrell were alive again!"</p>
+
+<p>She sat down, and put her elbows on the table and her hands over her
+face. The others looked at her in amaze. Percival turned to the fire and
+stared into it very hard. Mrs. Heron, who was rather afraid of what she
+called "Elizabeth's high-flown moods," murmured a suggestion to Kitty
+that she ought to go to the children, and glided languidly away,
+beckoning her step-daughter to follow her.</p>
+
+<p>Percival did not speak until Elizabeth raised her face, and then he was
+uncomfortably conscious that she had been crying&mdash;at least, that her
+long eyelashes were wet, and that in other circumstances he might have
+felt a desire to kiss the tears away. But this desire, if he had it,
+must now be carefully controlled. He did not look at her, therefore,
+when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Your feeling is somewhat over-strained, Elizabeth. We are all sorry for
+the Luttrells' trouble; but it is absurd to say that we must not be glad
+of your good fortune."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth rose up with her eyes ablaze and her cheeks on fire.</p>
+
+<p>"You know that you are not glad!" she said, almost passionately. "You
+know that you would rather see me poor&mdash;see me the nursery-maid, the
+Cinderella, that you are so fond of calling me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Percival, with a short laugh, "for my own sake, perhaps, I
+would."</p>
+
+<p>"And so would I," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"But you know, Lizzie, you will get over that feeling in time. You will
+find pleasure in your riches and your beauty; you will learn what
+enjoyment means&mdash;which you have had small chance of finding out,
+hitherto, in this comfortable household!" He laughed rather bitterly.
+"You are in the chrysalis state at present; you don't know what it is to
+be a butterfly. You will like that better&mdash;in time."</p>
+
+<p>"I will never be a butterfly&mdash;God helping me!" said Elizabeth. She spoke
+solemnly, with a noble light in her whole face which made it more than
+beautiful. Percival turned away his eyes from it; he did not dare to
+look. "If I have had wealth given me," said the girl, "I will use it for
+worthy ends. Others shall benefit by it as well as myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't squander it, Lizzie," said Percival, with a cynical smile,
+designed to cover the exceeding sadness and soreness of his heart. "Your
+philanthropist is not often the wisest person in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I will try to use it wisely," she said, with a touch of
+meekness in her voice which made him feel madly inclined to fall down
+and kiss the very hem of her garment&mdash;or rather the lowest flounce of
+her shabby, dark-blue, serge gown&mdash;"and my friends will see that I do
+not spend it foolishly. You do not think it would be foolish to use it
+for the good of others, do you, Percival? I suppose I shall be thought
+very eccentric if I do not take a large house in London, or go much into
+society; but, indeed, I should not be happy in spending money in those
+ways&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what on earth do you mean to do?" said Percival, sharply. "I see
+that you have some plan in your head; I should just like to know what it
+is."</p>
+
+<p>She was standing beside him on the hearth-rug, and she looked up at his
+face and down again before she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, seriously, "I have a plan."</p>
+
+<p>"And you mean that I have no right to inquire what it is? You are
+perfectly correct; I have no right, and I beg your pardon for the
+liberty that I have taken. I think that I had better go."</p>
+
+<p>His manner was so restless, his voice so uneven and so angry, that
+Elizabeth lifted her eyes and studied his face a little before she
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Percival," she said at last, "why are you so angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not angry with you."</p>
+
+<p>"With whom or with what, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"With circumstances, I suppose. With life in general," he answered,
+bitterly, "when it sets up such barriers between you and me."</p>
+
+<p>"What barriers?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Elizabeth, you used to have faculties above those of the rest
+of your sex. Don't let your new position weaken them. I have surely not
+the least need to tell you what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You overrate my faculties," said Elizabeth. "You always did. I never do
+know what you mean unless you tell me. I am not good at guessing."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not guess then; I'll tell you. Don't you see that I am in a
+very unfortunate position? I said to you the other night that I&mdash;I loved
+you, that I would teach you to love me; and I could have done it,
+Elizabeth! I am sure that you would have loved me in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Elizabeth, softly. Her lips were slightly tremulous, but
+they were smiling, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" repeated her cousin. "That's all. There's an end to it. Do you
+think I should ever have breathed a word into your ear if I had known
+what I know now?"</p>
+
+<p>"The fact being," said Elizabeth, "that your pride is so much stronger
+than your love, that you would never tell a woman you loved her if she
+happened to have a few pounds more than you."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly so," he answered, stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;as a matter of argument only, Percival&mdash;I think you are wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong, am I? Do you think that a man likes to take gifts from his
+wife's hands? Do you think it is pleasant for me to hear you offer
+compensation to my father for the trifle that he has spent on you during
+the last few years, and not to be in a position to render such an
+offering unnecessary? I tell you it is the most galling thing in the
+world, and, if for one moment you thought me capable of speaking to you
+as I did the other night, now that I know you to be a wealthy woman, I
+could never look you in the face again. If I seem angry you must try to
+forgive me; you know me of old&mdash;I am always detestable when I am in
+pain&mdash;as I am now."</p>
+
+<p>He struck his foot angrily against the fender; his handsome face was
+drawn and lined with the pain of which he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Be patient, Percival," she said, with a smile which seemed to mock him
+by its very sweetness. "As you say to me, you may think differently in
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"And what if I do think differently? What good will it be?" he asked
+her. "I am not patient; I am not resigned to my fate, and I never shall
+be; does it make the loss of my hopes any easier to bear when you tell
+me that I shall think differently in time? You might as well try to make
+a man with a broken leg forget his pain by telling him that in a hundred
+years' time he will be dead and buried!"</p>
+
+<p>The tears stood in her eyes. She seemed startled by the intense energy
+with which he spoke; her next words scarcely rose above a whisper.
+"Percival," she said, "I don't like to see you suffer."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will leave you," he said, sternly. "For, if I stay, I can't
+pretend that I do not feel the pain of losing you."</p>
+
+<p>He turned away, but before he had gone two steps a hand was placed upon
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't let you go in this way," she said. "Oh, Percival, you have
+always been good to me till now. I can't begin a new life by giving you
+pain. Don't you understand what I want to say?"</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her face. The deep
+colour flushed his own, but hers was white as snow, and she was
+trembling like a leaf.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you love me, Elizabeth?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she answered, simply, "but I will marry you, Percival,
+if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not enough. Do you love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Too well," she answered, "to let you go."</p>
+
+<p>And so he stayed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>SAN STEFANO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the vines were stripped of their clusters, and the ploughed fields
+stood bare and brown in the autumnal sun&mdash;when the fig trees lost their
+leaves, and their white branches took on that peculiarly gaunt
+appearance which characterises them as soon as the wintry winds begin to
+blow&mdash;a solitary traveller plodded wearily across the Lombardy plains,
+asking, as he went, for the road that would lead him to the village and
+monastery of San Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>He arrived at his destination on an evening late in November. It was
+between five and six o'clock when he came to the little, white village,
+nestling in a cleft of the hills, with the monastery on a slope behind
+it. There was a background of mountainous country&mdash;green, and grey, and
+purple&mdash;with solemn, white heights behind, stretching far into the
+crystal clearness of the sky. As the traveller reached the village he
+looked up to those white forms, and saw them transfigured in the evening
+light. The sky behind them changed to rose colour, to purple, violet,
+even to delicate pale green and golden, and, when the daylight had
+faded, an afterglow tinged the snowy summit with a roseate flush more
+tenderly ethereal than the tint of an oleander blossom, as transient as
+a gleam of April sunshine, or the changing light upon a summer sea. Then
+a dead whiteness succeeded; the day was gone, and, quick as lightning,
+the stars began to quiver in the blueness of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>The lights in the cottage windows gleamed not inhospitably, but the
+traveller passed them by. His errand was to the monastery of San
+Stefano, for there he fancied that he should find a friend. He had no
+reason to feel sure about it, but he was in a mental region where reason
+had little sway. He was governed by vague impulses and instincts which
+he did not care to controvert. He was faint, footsore, and weary, but he
+would not pause until he had reached the monastery gates.</p>
+
+<p>He rang the bell with a trembling hand. Its clangour startled him, and
+nearly made him fly from the place. If he had been less weak at that
+moment he would have turned away; as it was, he leaned against the high,
+white wall with an intolerable sense of discomfort and fatigue. When the
+porter came and looked out, it took him several minutes to discern,
+through the gathering darkness, the worn figure in waiting beside the
+gate.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come a long distance," stammered the traveller, in answer to the
+porter's exclamation. "I want rest and food. I was told by one of
+you&mdash;one who was called Brother Dino, I believe&mdash;that you gave
+hospitality to travellers&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, amico," said the porter, genially. "No explanations are needed
+when one comes to San Stefano. So you know our Brother Dino, do you? He
+is here again now, after two or three years in Paris. A fine scholar,
+they say, and a credit to the monastery. Come to the guest-room and I
+will tell him that you are here."</p>
+
+<p>To this monologue the stranger answered not a word. The porter had
+meanwhile allowed him to enter, and fastened the gate once more. He then
+led the way up a garden path to a second door, swinging his lantern and
+jingling his keys as he went. The traveller followed slowly; his
+battered felt hat was drawn low over his forehead, his garments, torn
+and travel-stained, gave the porter an impression that his pockets were
+not too well filled, and that he might even be glad of a little
+employment on the farm which the Brothers of San Stefano were so
+successful in cultivating. His tone was nonetheless cheery and polite as
+he ushered the stranger into a long panelled room, where a single
+oil-lamp threw a vague, uncertain light upon the tessellated floor and
+plain oak furniture.</p>
+
+<p>"You would like some polenta?" he said, as the wearied man sank into one
+of the wooden chairs with an air of complete exhaustion. "Or some of our
+good red wine? I will see about it directly. The signor can repose here
+until I return; I will fetch one of the Reverend Fathers by-and-bye, but
+they are all at Benediction at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see Brother Dino," said the stranger, lifting his head. And
+then the porter changed his mind about the station of the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>That slightly imperious tone, the impatient glance of the dark eye, the
+unmistakably foreign accent, convinced him that he had to do with one of
+the tourists&mdash;English or American signori&mdash;who occasionally paid a visit
+to San Stefano. The porter himself was a lay-brother, and prided himself
+on his knowledge of the world. He answered courteously that Brother Dino
+should be informed, and then withdrew to provide the refreshment of
+which the stranger evidently stood in need.</p>
+
+<p>Brother Dino was not long in coming. He entered quickly, with a look of
+subdued expectation upon his face. A flash of joy and recognition leaped
+into his eyes as he beheld the wayworn figure in one of the antique
+carved oak chairs. His hands, which had been crossed and hidden in the
+wide sleeves of the habit that he wore, went out to the stranger with a
+gesture of welcome and delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Luttrell!" he exclaimed. "You are here already at San Stefano! We
+shall welcome you warmly, Mr. Luttrell!"</p>
+
+<p>The name seemed wonderfully familiar to his tongue. Brian, who had
+risen, held out his hands also, and the young monk caught them in his
+own; but Brian's gesture was an involuntary one, conveying more of
+apprehension than of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Not that name," he said, breathlessly. "Call me by any other that you
+please, but not that. Brian Luttrell is dead."</p>
+
+<p>Brother Dino shivered slightly, as if a cold breath of air had passed
+through the ill-lighted room, but he held Brian's hands with a still
+warmer pressure, and looked steadily into his haggard, hollow eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I call you, then, my brother?" he said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of a name," replied Brian, in curiously uncertain,
+faltering tones; "it will harm nobody to take it, because he is dead,
+too. Remember, my name is Stretton&mdash;John Stretton, an Englishman&mdash;and a
+beggar."</p>
+
+<p>Therewith he loosed his hands from Brother Dino's clasp, uttered a short
+laugh&mdash;it was a moan rather than a laugh, however&mdash;and fell like a stone
+into the Italian's arms. Dino supported him for a moment, then laid him
+flat upon the floor, and was about to summon help, when, turning, he
+came face to face with the Prior, Padre Cristoforo.</p>
+
+<p>Thirteen years had passed since Padre Cristoforo brought the friendless
+boy from Turin to the monastery amongst the pleasant hills. Those
+thirteen years had apparently transformed the smiling, graceful lad into
+a pale, grave-faced, young monk, whose every word and action seemed to
+be subordinated to the authority of the ecclesiastics with whom he
+lived. Time had thrown into strong relief the keenly intellectual
+contour of his head and face; it had hollowed his temples and tempered
+the ardour of those young, brave eyes; but there was more beauty of
+outline and sweetness of expression than had been visible even in the
+charming boyish face that had won all hearts when he came to San Stefano
+at ten years old.</p>
+
+<p>Thirteen years had changed Father Cristoforo but little. His tonsured
+head showed a fringe of greyer hairs, and his face was a little more
+blanched and wrinkled than it used to be; but the bland smile, the
+polished manner, the look of profound sagacity, were all the same. He
+gave one glance to Dino, one glance to the prostrate form upon the
+floor, and took in the situation without a moment's delay.</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch Father Paolo," he said, after inspecting Brian's face and lifting
+his nerveless hand; "and return with him yourself. We may want you."</p>
+
+<p>Father Paolo, the monk who took charge of the infirmary, soon arrived,
+and gave it as his opinion that the stranger was suffering from no
+ordinary fainting-fit, but from an affection of the brain. A bed was
+prepared for him in the infirmary, and a lay-brother appointed to attend
+upon him. Brian Luttrell could not have fallen ill in a place where he
+would receive more tender care.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the sick man was laid in his bed that Father Cristoforo
+spoke again to Dino, who was standing a little behind him, holding a
+lamp. The rays of light fell full upon Brian's death-like face, and on
+the black and white crucifix that hung above his bed on the yellow wall.
+Dino's face was in deep shadow when the Prior turned and addressed him.</p>
+
+<p>"What was he saying when I came in? That his name was John&mdash;John&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"John Stretton, an Englishman," answered Dino, in an unmoved voice. "An
+Englishman and a beggar."</p>
+
+<p>Padre Christoforo did an unusual thing. He took the lamp from Brother
+Dino's hand and threw the light suddenly upon the young man's impassive
+countenance. Dino raised his great, serious eyes to the Prior's face,
+and then dropped them to the ground. Otherwise not a muscle of his face
+moved. He was the living image of submission.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen him before?" said Padre Cristoforo.</p>
+
+<p>"Twice, Reverend Father. Once on the boat between Cologne and Mainz; and
+once, for a moment only, in the quadrangle of the Cathedral at Mainz."</p>
+
+<p>"And then did he bear his present name?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Dino's mouth twitched uneasily. A faint colour crept into
+his cheeks. "Reverend Father," he said, hesitatingly, "I did not ask his
+name."</p>
+
+<p>The priest raised the lamp to the level of his head, and again looked
+penetratingly into his pupil's face. There was a touch of wonder, of
+pity, perhaps also of some displeasure, expressed in this fixed gaze. It
+lasted so long that Dino turned a little pale, although he did not
+flinch beneath it. Finally, the Prior lowered the lamp, gave it back to
+him, and walked away in silence, with his head lowered and his hands
+behind his back. Dino followed to light him down the dark corridors, and
+at the door of the Prior's cell, fell on his knees, as the custom was in
+the monastery, to receive the Prior's blessing. But, either from
+forgetfulness or some other reason which passed unexplained, Padre
+Cristoforo entered and closed the door behind him, without noticing the
+young man's kneeling figure. It was the first time such an omission had
+occurred since Dino came to San Stefano. Was it merely an omission and
+not a punishment? Dino had, for the first time in his life, evaded a
+plain answer to a question, and concealed from Padre Cristoforo
+something which Padre Cristoforo would certainly have thought that he
+ought to know. Had Padre Cristoforo divined the truth?</p>
+
+<p>According to the notions current amongst Italians, and particularly
+amongst many members of their church, Dino felt himself justified in
+equivocating in a case where absolute truth would not have served his
+purpose. His conscience did not reproach him for want of truthfulness,
+but it did for want of confidence in Padre Cristoforo. For he loved
+Padre Cristoforo; and Padre Cristoforo loved him.</p>
+
+<p>Brian Luttrell's illness was a long and severe one. He lay insensible
+for some time, and awoke to wild delirium, which lasted for many days.
+The Brothers of San Stefano nursed him with the greatest care, and it
+was observable that the Prior himself spent a good deal of time in the
+patient's room, and showed unusual interest in his progress towards
+recovery. The Prior understood English; but if he had hoped to gather
+any information concerning Brian's history from the ravings of his
+delirium he was mistaken. Brian's mind ran upon the incidents of his
+childhood, upon the tour that he had made with his father when he was a
+boy, upon his school-days; not upon the sad and tragic events with which
+he had been connected. He scarcely ever mentioned the names of his
+mother or brother. Like Falstaff, when he lay a-dying, be "babbled of
+green fields," and nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>At one time he grew better: then he had a relapse, and was very near
+death indeed; but at last the power of youth re-asserted itself, and he
+came slowly back to life once more. But it was as a man who had been in
+another world; who had faced the bitterness of death and the darkness of
+the grave.</p>
+
+<p>He was as much startled when he looked at himself for the first time in
+a looking-glass as a girl who has lost her beauty after a virulent
+attack of small-pox. Not that he had ever had much beauty to boast of;
+but the look of youth and hope which had once brightened his eyes was
+gone; his cheeks were sunken, his temples hollow, his features drawn and
+pinched with bodily pain and weakness. And&mdash;greatest change perhaps of
+all&mdash;his hair had turned from brown to grey; an alteration so striking
+and visible that, as he put down the little mirror which had been
+brought to him, he murmured to himself, with a bitter smile&mdash;"My own
+mother would not know me now." And then he turned his face away from the
+light, and lay silent and motionless for so long a space of time that
+the lay-brother who waited on him thought that he was sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>When he rose from his bed and was able to sit in the sunny garden or the
+cloisters, spring had come in all its tender glow of beauty, and sent a
+thrill of fresh life through the sick man's veins.</p>
+
+<p>Nature had always been dear to Brian. He loved the sights and sounds of
+country life. The hills, the waving trees, tranquil skies and running
+water calmed and refreshed his jaded brain and harrassed nerves. The
+broad fields, crimsoning with anemones, purpling with hyacinth and
+auricula; the fresh green of the fig trees, the lovely tendrils of the
+newly shooting vines even the sight of the oxen with their patient eyes,
+and the homely, feathered creatures of the farmyard, clucking and
+strutting at the sandalled feet of the black-robed, silent, lay-brothers
+who brought them food&mdash;all these things acted like an anodyne upon
+Brian's stricken heart. There was a life beside that of feeling; a life
+of passive, peaceful repose; the life of "stocks and stones," and happy,
+unresponsive things, amidst which he could learn to bear his burden
+patiently.</p>
+
+<p>He saw little of Dino during his illness; but, as soon as he was able to
+go into the garden, Dino was permitted to accompany him. It was plain
+from his manner that no unwillingness on his own part kept him away. The
+English stranger had evidently a great attraction for him; he waited
+upon his movements and followed him, silently and affectionately, like a
+dog whose whole heart has been given to its master. Brian felt the charm
+of this devotion, but was too weak to speculate concerning its cause. He
+was conscious of the same kind of attraction towards Dino; he knew not
+why, but he found it pleasant to have Dino at his side, to lean on his
+arm as they went down the garden path together, to listen to the young
+Italian's musical accents as he read aloud at the evening hour. But what
+was the secret of that indefinable mutual attraction, that almost
+magnetic power, which one seemed to possess over the other, Brian
+Luttrell could not tell. Perhaps Dino knew.</p>
+
+<p>This friendship did not pass unobserved. It was quietly, gently,
+fostered by the Prior, whose keen eyes were everywhere, and seemed to
+see everything at once. He it was who dispensed Dino from his usual
+duties that he might attend upon the English guest, who smiled benignly
+when he met them together in the cloister, who dropped a word or two
+expressive of his pleasure that Dino should have an opportunity of
+practising his knowledge of the English tongue. Dino could speak English
+with tolerable fluency, although with a strong foreign accent.</p>
+
+<p>But the quiet state of affairs did not last very long. As Brian's
+strength returned he grew restless and uneasy; and at length one day he
+sent a formal request to the Prior that he might speak to him alone.
+Padre Cristoforo replied by coming at once to the guest-chamber, which
+Brian occupied in the daytime, and by asking in his usual mild and
+kindly way what he could do for him.</p>
+
+<p>The guest-room was a bare enough place, but the window commanded a fine
+view of the wide plain on which the monastery looked down. The blinds
+were open, for the morning was deliciously cool, and the shadows of the
+leaves that clustered round the lattice played in the glow of sunshine
+on the floor. Brian was standing as the Prior entered the room; his
+wasted figure, worn face, and grey hairs made him a striking sight in
+that abode of peace and solitary quietness. It was as though some
+unquiet visitant from another world had strayed into an Italian Arcadia.
+But, as a matter of fact, Brian was probably less worldly in thought and
+aspiration at that moment than the serene-browed priest who stood before
+him and looked him in the face with such benignant friendly, interest.</p>
+
+<p>"You wished to see me, my son?" he began, gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I am ashamed to trouble you," said Brian. "But I felt that I ought to
+speak to you as soon as possible. I am growing strong enough to continue
+my journey&mdash;and I must not trespass on your hospitality any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Your strength is not very great as yet," said the Prior, courteously.
+"Pray take a seat, Mr. Stretton. We are only too pleased to keep you
+with us as long as you will do us the honour to remain, and I think it
+is decidedly against your own interests to travel at present."</p>
+
+<p>Brian stammered out an acknowledgment of the Prior's kindness. He was
+evidently embarrassed, even painfully so; and Padre Cristoforo found
+himself watching the young man with some surprise and curiosity. What
+was it that troubled this young Englishman?</p>
+
+<p>Brian at last uttered the words that he had wished to say.</p>
+
+<p>"If I remained here," he said, colouring vividly with a sensitiveness
+springing from the reduced physical condition to which he had been
+brought by his long illness; "if I remained here I should ask you
+whether I could do any work for you&mdash;whether I could teach any of your
+pupils English or music. I am a poor man; I have no prospects. I would
+as soon live in Italy as in England&mdash;at any rate for a time."</p>
+
+<p>The Prior looked at him steadily; his deeply-veined hand grasped the arm
+of his wooden chair, a slight flush rose to his forehead. It was in a
+perfectly calm and unconstrained voice, however, that he made answer.</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite possible that we might find work of the kind you mention,
+signor&mdash;if you require it."</p>
+
+<p>There was a subdued accent of inquiry in the last four words. Brian
+laughed a little, and put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew out
+four gold pieces and a few little Swiss and Italian coins.</p>
+
+<p>"You see these, Father?" he said, holding them out in the palm of his
+hand. "They constitute my fortune, and they are due to the institution
+that has sheltered me so kindly and nursed me back to life and health. I
+have vowed these coins to your alms-box; when they are given, I shall
+make a fresh start in the world&mdash;as the architect of my own fortunes."</p>
+
+<p>"You will then be penniless!" said the priest, in rather a curious tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Entirely so."</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence. Brian's fingers played idly with the coins,
+but he was not thinking about them; his dreamy eyes revealed that his
+thoughts were very far away. Padre Cristoforo was biting his forefinger
+and knitting his brows&mdash;two signs of unusual perturbation of mind with
+him. Presently, however, his brow cleared; he smoothed his gown over his
+knees two or three times, coughed once or twice, and then addressed
+himself to Brian with all his accustomed urbanity.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Order is a rich one," he said, with a smile, "and one that can well
+afford to entertain strangers. I will not tell you to make no gifts, for
+we know that it is very blessed to give&mdash;more blessed than to receive. I
+think it quite possible that we can give you such work as you desire.
+But before I do so, I think I am justified in asking you with what
+object you take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"With what object? A very simple one&mdash;to earn my daily bread."</p>
+
+<p>"And why," said the priest leaning forward and speaking in a lower
+voice&mdash;"why should your father's son need to earn his daily bread in a
+little Italian village?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Brian's face changed colour.</p>
+
+<p>"My father's son?" he repeated, vaguely. The coins fell to the ground;
+he sat up and looked at the Prior suspiciously. "What do you know about
+my father?" he said. "What do you know about me?"</p>
+
+<p>The Prior pushed back his chair. A little smile played upon his shrewd,
+yet kindly face. The Englishman was easier to manage than he had
+expected to find him, and Father Cristoforo was unquestionably relieved
+in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know much about you," he said, "but I have reason to believe
+that your name is not Stretton&mdash;that you were recently travelling under
+the name of Brian Luttrell, and that you have a special interest in the
+village of San Stefano. Is that not true, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Brian slowly. "It is true."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRIOR'S OPINION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Prior's face wore an expression of mild triumph. He was evidently
+prepared to be questioned, and was somewhat surprised when Brian turned
+to him gravely and addressed him in cold and serious tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Reverend Father," he said, "I am ignorant of the way in which you have
+possessed yourself of my secret, but, before a word more is spoken, let
+me tell you at once that it is a secret which must be kept strictly and
+sacredly between ourselves, unless great trouble is to ensue. It is
+absolutely necessary now that Brian Luttrell should be&mdash;dead."</p>
+
+<p>"What has Brian Luttrell done," asked the Prior, "that he should be
+ashamed of his own name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ashamed!" said Brian, haughtily; "I never for one moment said that I
+was ashamed of it; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He turned in his chair and looked out of the window. A new thought
+occurred to him. Probably Padre Cristoforo knew the history of every one
+who had lived in San Stefano during the last few years. Perhaps he might
+assist Brian in his search for the truth. At any rate, as Padre
+Cristoforo already knew his name, it would do nobody any harm if he
+confided in him a little further, and told him something of the story
+which Mrs. Luttrell had told to him.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Padre Cristoforo watched him keenly as a cat watches a mouse,
+though without the malice of a cat. The Prior wished Brian no harm. But,
+for the good of his Order, he wished very much that he could lay hands,
+either through Brian or through Dino, upon that fine estate of which he
+had dreamt for the last thirteen years.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Cristoforo," Brian's haggard, dark eyes looked anxiously into
+the priest's subtilely twinkling orbs, "will you tell me how you learnt
+my true name?"</p>
+
+<p>He could not bear to cast a doubt upon Dino's good faith, and the Prior
+divined his reason for the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Rest assured, my dear sir, that I learnt it accidentally," he said,
+with a soothing smile. "I happened to be entering the door when our
+young friend Dino recognised you. I heard you tell him to call you by
+the name of Stretton; I also heard you say that Brian Luttrell was
+dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" sighed Brian, scarcely above his breath. "I thought that Dino
+could not have betrayed me."</p>
+
+<p>He did not mean the Prior to hear his words; but they were heard and
+understood. "Signor," said the Padre, with an inflection of hurt feeling
+in his voice, "Mr. Stretton, or Mr. Luttrell, however you choose to term
+yourself, Dino is a man of honour, and will never betray a trust reposed
+in him. I could answer for Dino with my very life."</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;I was sure of it!" cried Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"But, signor, do you think it is right or wise to imperil the future and
+the reputation of a young man like Dino&mdash;without friends, without home,
+without a name, entirely dependent upon us and our provision for him&mdash;by
+making him the depository of secrets which he keeps against his
+conscience and against the rule of the Order in which he lives? Brother
+Dino has told me nothing; he even evaded a question which he thought
+that you would not wish him to answer; but, he has acted wrongly, and
+will suffer if he is led into further concealment. Need I say more?"</p>
+
+<p>"He shall not suffer through me," said Brian, impetuously. "I ought to
+have known better. But I was not myself; I don't remember what I said. I
+was surprised and relieved when I came to myself and found you all
+calling me Mr. Stretton. I never thought of laying any burden upon
+Dino."</p>
+
+<p>"You will do well, then," said the Prior, approvingly, "if you do not
+speak of the matter to him at all. He is bound to mention it if
+questioned, and I presume you do not want to make it known."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not. But I thought that he was bound only to mention matters
+that concerned himself; not those of other people," said Brian, with
+more hardihood than the priest had expected of him.</p>
+
+<p>Padre Cristoforo smiled, and made a little motion with his hand, as much
+as to say that there were many things which an Englishman and a heretic
+could not be expected to know. "Dino is in a state of pupilage," he
+said, slightly, finding that Brian seemed to expect an answer; "the
+rules which bind him are very strict. But&mdash;if you will allow me to
+advert once more to your proposed change of name and residence&mdash;I
+suppose that it is not indiscreet to remark that your friends in
+England&mdash;or Scotland&mdash;will doubtless be anxious about your place of
+abode at present?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think so," said Brian, in a low tone. "I believe that they
+think me dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Why so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you did not hear in your quiet monastery, Father, of a party of
+travellers who perished in an avalanche last November? Two guides, a
+porter, and an Englishman, whose body was never recovered. I was that
+Englishman."</p>
+
+<p>"I heard of the accident," said Padre Cristoforo, briefly, nodding his
+head. "So you escaped, signor? You must have had strong limbs and stout
+sinews&mdash;or else you must have been attended by some special providential
+care&mdash;to escape, when those three skilled mountaineers were lost on the
+mountain side."</p>
+
+<p>"On ne meurt pas quand la mort est la délivrance," quoted Brian, with a
+bitter laugh. "You may be quite sure that if I had been at the height of
+felicity and good fortune, it would have needed but a false step, or a
+slight chill, or a stray shot&mdash;a stray shot! oh, my God! If only some
+stray shot had come to me&mdash;not to my brother&mdash;my brother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>They were the first tears that he had shed since the beginning of his
+illness. The sudden memory of his brother's fate proved too much for him
+in his present state of bodily weakness. He bowed his head on his hands
+and wept.</p>
+
+<p>A curiously soft expression stole into the Prior's face. He looked at
+Brian once or twice and seemed as if he wished to say some pitying word,
+but, in point of fact, no word of consolation occurred to him. He was
+very sorry for Brian, whose story was perfectly familiar to him; but he
+knew very well that Brian's grief was not one to which words could bring
+comfort. He waited silently, therefore, until the mood had passed, and
+the young man lifted up his heavy eyes and quivering lips with a faint
+attempt at a smile, which was sadder than those passionate sobs had
+been.</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask pardon," he said, somewhat confusedly. "I did not know that
+I was so weak. I will go to my room."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me delay you for one moment," said the Prior, confronting him with
+kindly authority. "It has needed little penetration, signor, to discover
+that you have lately passed through some great sorrow; I am now more
+sure of it than ever. I would not intrude upon your confidence, but I
+ask you to remember that I wish to be your friend&mdash;that there are
+reasons why I should take a special interest in you and your family, and
+that, humble as I am, I may be of use to you and yours."</p>
+
+<p>Brian stopped short and looked at him. "Me and mine!" he repeated to
+himself. "Me and mine! What do you know of us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will be frank with you," said the priest. "Thirteen years ago a
+document of a rather remarkable nature was placed in my hands affecting
+the Luttrell family. In this paper the writer declared that she, as the
+nurse of Mrs. Luttrell's children, had substituted her own child for a
+boy called Brian Luttrell, and had carried off the true Brian to her
+mother, a woman named Assunta Naldi. The nurse, Vincenza, died and left
+this paper in the hands of her mother, who, after much hesitation,
+confided the secret to me."</p>
+
+<p>Brian took a step nearer to the Prior. "What right have you had to keep
+this matter secret so long?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, rather, what right had I to disturb an honourable family with an
+assertion that is incapable of proof?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you tell me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you know it already."</p>
+
+<p>Brian seated himself and leaned back in his chair, with his eyes still
+fixed upon the Prior's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you think that I know it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Because," said Padre Cristoforo, raising his long forefinger, and
+emphasising every fresh point with a convincing jerk, "because you have
+come to San Stefano. You would never have come here unless you wanted to
+find out the truth. Because you have changed your name. You would have
+had no reason to abandon the name of Luttrell unless you were not sure
+of your right to bear it. Because you spoke of Vincenza in your
+delirium. Do I need more proofs?"</p>
+
+<p>There was another proof which he did not mention. He had found Mrs.
+Luttrell's letter to Brian amongst the sick man's clothes, and had
+carefully perused it before locking it up with the rest of the
+stranger's possessions. It was characteristic of the man that, during
+the last few years, he had set himself steadily to work to master the
+English language by the aid of every English book or English-speaking
+traveller that came in his way. He had succeeded wonderfully well, and
+no one but himself knew for what purpose that arduous task had been
+undertaken. He found his accomplishment useful; he had thought it
+particularly useful when he read Mrs. Luttrell's letter. But naturally
+he did not say so to Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," said Brian, in a low voice. "But you say it is
+incapable of proof. She&mdash;my mother&mdash;I mean Mrs. Luttrell&mdash;says so, too."</p>
+
+<p>"If it were capable of proof," said the Prior, softly, "should you
+contest the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Brian answered, with an angry flash of his eyes, "if I had been
+in England, and any such claimant appeared, I would have fought the
+ground to the last inch! Not for the sake of the estates&mdash;I have given
+those up easily enough&mdash;but for my father's sake. I would not lightly
+give up my claim to call him father; he never doubted once that I was
+his son."</p>
+
+<p>"He never doubted?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure he never did."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mrs. Luttrell&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"God help me, yes! But she thinks also that I meant to take my brother's
+life."</p>
+
+<p>It needed but a few words of inquiry to lead Brian to tell the story of
+his brother's death. The Prior knew it well enough; he had made it his
+business to ascertain the history of the Luttrell family during the past
+few years; but he listened with the gentle and sympathetic interest
+which had often given him so strong a hold over men's hearts and lives.
+He was a master in the art of influencing younger men; he had the subtle
+instinct which told him exactly what to say and how far to go, when to
+speak and when to be silent; and Brian, with no motive for concealment,
+now that his name was once known, was like a child in the Prior's hands.</p>
+
+<p>In return for his confidence, Padre Cristoforo told him the substance of
+his interview with old Assunta, and of the confession written by
+Vincenza. But when Brian asked to see this paper the Prior shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not got it here," he said. "It was certainly preserved, by the
+desire of some in authority, but it was not thought to afford sufficient
+testimony."</p>
+
+<p>"What was wanting?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you precisely what was wanting; but, amongst other
+matters, there is the fact that this Vincenza made a directly opposite
+statement, which counterbalances this one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have two written statements, contradicting each other? You
+might as well throw them both into the fire," said Brian, with some
+irritation. "Who is the 'authority' who preserves them? Can I not
+present myself to him and demand a sight of the documents?"</p>
+
+<p>"Under what name, and for what reason, would you ask to see them?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian winced; he had for the moment forgotten what his own hand had
+done.</p>
+
+<p>"I could still prove my identity," he said, looking down. "But, no; I
+will not. I did not lose myself upon the mountain-side because of this
+mystery about my birth, but because I wanted to escape my mother's
+reproaches and the burden of Richard's inheritance. Nothing will induce
+me to go back to Scotland. To all intents and purposes, I am dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said the Prior, "since that is your resolution&mdash;your wise
+resolution, let me say&mdash;I will tell you frankly what my reading of the
+riddle has been, and what, I think, Vincenza did. It is my belief that
+Mrs. Luttrell's child died, and was buried under the name of Vincenza's
+child."</p>
+
+<p>"You, too, then&mdash;you believe that I am not a Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>"If the truth could ever be ascertained, which I do not think it will
+be, I believe that this would turn out to be the case. The key of the
+whole matter lies in the fact that Vincenza had twins. One of these
+children was sent to the grandmother in the country; one was nursed in
+the village of San Stefano. A fever had broken out in the village, and
+Vincenza's charge&mdash;the little Brian Luttrell&mdash;died. She immediately
+changed the dead child for her own, being wishful to escape the blame of
+carelessness, and retain her place; also to gain for her own child the
+advantages of wealth and position. The two boys, who have now grown to
+manhood, are brothers; children, of one mother; and Brian Luttrell&mdash;a
+baby boy of some four months old&mdash;sleeps, as his mother declares, in the
+graveyard of San Stefano."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did the nurse confess only a half-truth, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wanted to get absolution; and yet she did not want to injure the
+prospects of her child, I suppose. At the worst, she thought that one
+boy would be substituted for another. The woman was foolish&mdash;and
+wicked," said the Prior, with a grain of impatient contempt in his tone;
+"and the more foolish that she did not observe that she was outwitting
+herself&mdash;trying to cheat God as well as man."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;you think&mdash;that I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That you are the son of an Italian gardener and his wife. Courage, my
+son; it might have been worse. But I know nothing positively; I have
+constructed a theory out of Vincenza's self-contradictions; it may be
+true; it may be false. Of one thing I would remind you; that as you have
+given up your position in England and Scotland, you have no
+responsibility in the matter. You have done exactly what the law would
+have required you to do had it been proved that you were Vincenza's
+son."</p>
+
+<p>"But the other child&mdash;the boy who was sent to his grandmother? What
+became of him?"</p>
+
+<p>The Prior looked at him in silence for a little time before he spoke.
+"How do you feel towards him?" he said, finally. "Are you prepared to
+treat him as a brother or not?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian averted his face. "I have had but one brother," he said, shortly.
+"I cannot expect to find another&mdash;especially when I am not sure that he
+is of my blood or I of his."</p>
+
+<p>"In any case he is your foster-brother. I should like you to meet him."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know the story?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does."</p>
+
+<p>"And is prepared to welcome me as a brother?" said Brian, with a bitter
+but agitated laugh. "Where is he? I will see him if you like."</p>
+
+<p>He had risen to his feet, and stood with his arms crossed, his brow
+knitted, his mouth firmly set. There was something hard in his face,
+something defiant in his attitude, which caused the Prior to add a word
+of remonstrance. "It is not his fault," he said, "any more than it is
+yours. You need not be enemies; it is my object to make you friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see him," repeated Brian gloomily. "I do not wish to be his
+enemy. I do not promise to be his friend." |</p>
+
+<p>"I will send him to you," said the Prior. "Wait here till he comes."</p>
+
+<p>He left Brian alone; and the young man, thinking it likely that | he
+would be undisturbed for sometime to come, bent his face upon his hands,
+and tried to [missing word] his position. The strange tangle of
+circumstances in which he found himself involved would never be easy of
+adjustment; he wished with all his heart that he had refused the Prior's
+offer to make his foster-brother known to him, but it was too late now.
+Was it too late? Could he not send for Padre Cristoforo, and beg him to
+leave the Italian peasant in his own quiet home, ignorant of Brian's
+visit to the place where he was born? He would do it; and then he would
+leave San Stefano for ever; it was not yet too late.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted up his head and rose to his feet. He was not alone in the
+room. To his surprise he saw before him his friend, Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"You have come from Padre Cristoforo, have you?" said Brian, quickly and
+impetuously. He took no notice of the young man's manifest agitation and
+discomfort, which would have been clear to anybody less pre-occupied
+than Brian, at that moment. "Tell him from me that there is no need for
+me to see the man that he spoke of&mdash;that I do not wish to meet him. He
+will understand what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>A change, like that produced by a sudden electric shock, passed over
+Dino's face. His hands fell to his sides. They had been outstretched
+before, as if in greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not want to see him?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not see him," said Brian, harshly, almost violently. "Weak as I
+am, I'll go straight out of the house and village sooner than meet him.
+Why does he want to see me? I have nothing to give him now."</p>
+
+<p>Long afterwards he remembered the look on Dino's face. Pain, regret,
+yearning affection, seemed to struggle for the mastery; his eyes were
+filled with tears, his lips were pale. But he said nothing. He went away
+from the room, and took the message that had been given him to the
+Prior.</p>
+
+<p>Brian felt that he had perhaps been selfish, but he consoled himself
+with the thought that the peasant lad would gain nothing by a meeting
+with him, and that such an embarrassing interview, as it must
+necessarily be, would be a pain to them both.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not know that the foster-brother (brother or foster-brother,
+which could it be?) was sobbing on the floor of the Prior's cell, in a
+passion of vehement grief at Brian's rejection of Padre Cristoforo's
+proposition. He would scarcely have understood that grief if he had seen
+it. He would have found it difficult to realise that the boy, Dino, had
+grown from childhood with a strong but suppressed belief in his mother's
+strange story, and yet, that, as soon as he saw Brian Luttrell, his
+heart had gone out to him with the passionate tenderness that he had
+waited all his life to bestow upon a brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Take it not so much to heart, Dino," said the Prior, looking down at
+him compassionately. "It was not to be expected that he would welcome
+the news. Thou art a fool, little one, to grieve over his coldness.
+Come, these are a girl's tears, and thou should'st be a man by now."</p>
+
+<p>The words were caressingly spoken, but they failed of their effect. Dino
+did not look up.</p>
+
+<p>"For one reason," said the Prior, in a colder tone, half to himself and
+half to the novice, "I am glad that he has not seen you. Your course
+will, perhaps, be the easier. Because, Dino, although I may believe my
+theory to be the correct one, and that you and our guest are both the
+children of Vincenza Vasari, yet it is a theory which is as difficult to
+prove as any other; and our good friend, the Cardinal, who was here last
+week, you know, chooses to take the other view."</p>
+
+<p>"What other view, Reverend Father?" said Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"The view that you are, indeed, Brian Luttrell, and not Vincenza's son."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;you said&mdash;that it was impossible to prove&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, my dear son. But the Cardinal does not agree with me. We
+shall hear from him further. I believe it is the general opinion at Rome
+that you ought to be sent to Scotland in order to claim your position
+and the Luttrell estates. The case might at any rate be tried."</p>
+
+<p>Dino rose now, pale and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want a position. I do not want to claim anything. I want to be
+a monk," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not a monk yet," returned the Prior, calmly. "And it may not be
+your vocation to take the vows upon you. Now, do you see why you have
+been prevented from taking them hitherto? You may be called upon to act
+as a layman: to claim the estates, fight the battle with these Scotch
+heretics and come back to us a wealthy man! And in that case, you will
+act as a pious layman should do, and devote a portion of your wealth to
+Holy Church. But I do not say you would be successful; I think myself
+that you have little chance of success. Only let us feel that you are
+our obedient child, as you used to be."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do anything you wish," cried Dino, passionately, "so long as I
+bring no unhappiness upon others. I do not wish to be rich at Brian's
+expense."</p>
+
+<p>"He has renounced his birthright," said the Prior. "You will not have to
+fight him, my tender-hearted Dino. You will have a much harder foe&mdash;a
+woman. The estate has passed into the hands of a Miss Elizabeth Murray."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VILLA VENTURI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>An elderly English artist, with carefully-trimmed grey hair, a
+gold-rimmed eye-glass, and a velvet coat which was a little too hot as
+well as a little too picturesque for the occasion, had got into
+difficulties with his sketching apparatus on the banks of a lovely
+little river in North Italy. He had been followed for some distance by
+several children, who had never once ceased to whine for alms; and he
+had tried all arts in the hope of getting rid of them, and all in vain.
+He had thrown small coins to them; they had picked them up and clamoured
+only the more loudly; he had threatened them with his sketching
+umbrella, whereat they had screamed and run away, only to return in the
+space of five seconds with derisive laughter and hands outstretched more
+greedily than ever. When he reached the spot where he intended to make a
+sketch, his tormentors felt that they had him at their mercy. They
+swarmed round him, they peeped under his umbrella, they even threw one
+or two small stones at his back; and when, in desperation, their victim
+sprang up and turned upon them, they made a wild dash at his umbrella,
+which sent it into the stream, far beyond the worthy artist's reach.
+Then they took to their heels, leaving the good man to contemplate
+wofully the fate of his umbrella. It had drifted to the middle of the
+stream, had there been caught by a stone and a tuft of weed, and seemed
+destined to complete destruction. He tried to arrest its course, but
+could not reach it, and nearly over-balanced himself in the attempt;
+then he sat down upon the bank and gave vent to an ejaculation of mild
+impatience&mdash;"Oh, dear, dear, dear me! I wish Elizabeth were here."</p>
+
+<p>It was so small a catastrophe, after all, and yet it called up a look of
+each unmistakable vexation to that naturally tranquil and abstracted
+countenance, that a spectator of the scene repressed a smile which had
+risen to his lips and came to the rescue.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I be of any assistance to you, sir?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>The artist gave a violent start. He had not previously seen the speaker,
+who had been lying on the grass at a few yards' distance, screened from
+sight by an intervening clump of brushwood. He came forward and stood by
+the water, looking at the opened umbrella.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I could get it," he said. "The water is very shallow."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;my dear sir&mdash;pray do not trouble yourself; it is entirely
+unnecessary. I do not wish to give the slightest inconvenience,"
+stammered the Englishman, secretly relieved, but very much embarrassed
+at the same time. "Pray, be careful&mdash;it's very wet. Good Heaven!" The
+last exclamation was caused by the fact that the new-comer had calmly
+divested himself of his boots and socks and was stepping into the water.
+"Indeed, it's scarcely worth the trouble that you are taking."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not much trouble to wade for a minute or two in this deliciously
+cool water," said the stranger, with a smile, as he returned from his
+expedition, umbrella in hand. "There, I think you will find it
+uninjured. It's a wonder that it was not broken. You would have been
+inconvenienced without it on this hot day."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his hat slightly as he spoke and moved away. The artist
+received another shock. This young man&mdash;for he moved with the strength
+and lightness of one still young, and his face was a young face,
+too&mdash;this young man had grey hair&mdash;perfectly grey. There was not a black
+thread amongst it. For one moment the artist was so much astonished that
+he nearly forgot to thank the stranger for the service that he had
+rendered him.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment," he said, hurriedly. "Pray allow me to thank you. I am very
+much obliged to you. You don't know how great a service you have done
+me. If I can be of any use to you in any way&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a very trifling service," said the young man, courteously. "I
+wish it had been my good fortune to do you a greater one. This was
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Foreign!" murmured the artist to himself, as the stranger returned to
+his lair behind the thicket, where he seemed to be occupying himself in
+putting on his socks and boots once more. "No Englishman would have
+answered in that way. I wish he had not disappeared so quickly. I should
+like to have made a sketch of his head. Hum! I shall not sketch much
+to-day, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>He shut up his paint-box with an air of resolution, and walked leisurely
+to the spot where the young man was completing his toilet. "I ought
+perhaps to explain," he began, with an air which he fancied was
+Machiavellian in its simplicity, "that the loss of that umbrella would
+have been a serious matter to me. It might have entailed another and
+more serious loss&mdash;the loss of my liberty."</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked up with a puzzled and slightly doubtful expression.
+"I beg your pardon," he said. "The loss of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The loss of my liberty," said the Englishman, in a louder and rather
+triumphant tone of voice. "The fact is, my dear sir, that I have a very
+tender and careful wife, and an equally tender and careful daughter and
+niece, who have so little confidence in my power of caring for my own
+safety that they have at various times threatened to accompany me in all
+my sketching expeditions. Now, if I came home to them and confessed that
+I had been attacked by a troop of savage Italian children, who tossed my
+umbrella into the river, do you think I should ever be allowed to
+venture out alone again?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man smiled, with a look of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I be of any further use to you?" he said. "Can I walk back to the
+town with you, or carry any of your things?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can be of very great use to me, indeed," said the gentleman,
+opening his sketch-book in a great hurry, and then producing a card from
+some concealed pocket in his velvet coat. "I'm an artist&mdash;allow me to
+introduce myself&mdash;my name is Heron; you would be of the very greatest
+use to me if you would allow me to&mdash;to make a sketch of your head for a
+picture that I am doing just now. It is the very thing&mdash;if you will
+excuse the liberty that I am taking&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He had his pencil ready, but he faltered a little as he saw the sudden
+change which came over his new acquaintance's face at the sound of his
+proposition. The young man flushed to his temples, and then turned
+suddenly pale. He did not speak, but Mr. Heron inferred offence from his
+silence, and became exceedingly profuse in his apologies.</p>
+
+<p>"It is of no consequence," said the stranger, breaking in upon Mr.
+Heron's incoherent sentences with some abruptness. "I was merely
+surprised for the moment; and, after all&mdash;I think I must ask you to
+excuse me; I have a great dislike&mdash;a sort of nervous dislike&mdash;to sitting
+for a portrait. I would rather that you did not sketch me, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly, certainly; I am only sorry that I mentioned it," said
+Mr. Heron, more formally than usual. He was a little vexed at his own
+precipitation, and also by the way in which his request had been
+received. For a few moments there was a somewhat awkward silence, during
+which the young man stood with his eyes cast down, apparently absorbed
+in thought. "A striking face," thought Mr. Heron to himself, being
+greatly attracted by the appearance of his new friend; "all the more
+picturesque on account of that curious grey hair. I wonder what his
+history has been." Then he spoke aloud and in a kindlier tone. "I will
+accept your offer of help," he said, "and ask you to walk back with me
+to the town, if you are going that way. I came by a short cut, which I
+am quite sure that I shall never remember."</p>
+
+<p>The young man awoke from his apparently sad meditations; his fine, dark
+eyes were lightened by a grateful smile as he looked at Mr. Heron. It
+seemed as though he were glad that something had been suggested that he
+could do. But the smile was succeeded by a still more settled look of
+gloom.</p>
+
+<p>"I must introduce myself," he said. "I have no card with me&mdash;perhaps
+this will do as well." He held out the book that he had been reading; it
+was a copy of Horace's <i>Odes</i>, bound in vellum. On the fly-leaf, a name
+had been scrawled in pencil&mdash;John Stretton. Mr. Heron glanced at it
+through his eye-glass, nodded pleasantly, and regarded his new friend
+with increased respect.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a scholar, I see," he said, good-humouredly, as they strolled
+leisurely towards the little town in which he had told John Stretton
+that he was staying; "or else you would not bring Horace out with you
+into the fields on a sunshiny day like this. I have forgotten almost all
+my classical lore. To tell the truth, Mr. Stretton, I never found it
+very much good to me; but I suppose all boys have got to have a certain
+amount of it drilled into them&mdash;&mdash;?" He stopped short in an interrogative
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Stretton, without a smile. His eyes were bent on
+the ground; there was a joyless contraction of his delicate, dark brows.
+It was with an evident effort that he suddenly looked up and spoke. "I
+have an interest in such subjects. I am trying to find pupils
+myself&mdash;or, at least, I hope to find some when I return to England in a
+week or two. I think," he added with a half-laugh, "that I am a pretty
+good classic&mdash;good enough, at least, to teach small boys!"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say, I dare say," said Mr. Heron, hastily. He looked as if he
+would like to put another question or two, then turned away, muttered
+something inaudible, and started off upon a totally different subject,
+about which he laid down the law with unaccustomed volubility and
+decision. Stretton listened, assented now and then, but took care to say
+little in reply. A sudden turn in the road brought them close to a fine,
+old building, grey with age, but stately still, at the sight of which
+Mr. Heron became silent and slackened his pace.</p>
+
+<p>"A magnificent old place," said Stretton, looking up at it as his
+companion paused before the gateway.</p>
+
+<p>"Picturesque, but not very waterproof," said Mr. Heron, with a dismal
+air of conviction. "It is what they call the Villa Venturi. There are
+some charming bits of colour about it, but I am not sure that it is the
+best possible residence."</p>
+
+<p>"You are residing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"For the present&mdash;yes. You must come in and see the banqueting-hall and
+the terrace; you must, indeed. My wife will be delighted to thank you
+herself&mdash;for the rescue of the umbrella!" and Mr. Heron laughed quietly
+below his breath. "Yes, yes"&mdash;as Stretton showed symptoms of
+refusing&mdash;"I can take no denial. After your long, hot walk with me, you
+must come in and rest, if it is but for half-an-hour. You do not know
+what pleasure it gives me to have a chat with some one like yourself,
+who can properly appreciate the influence of the Renaissance upon
+Italian art."</p>
+
+<p>Stretton yielded rather than listen to any more of such gross and open
+flattery. He followed Mr. Heron under the gateway into a paved
+courtyard, flanked on three sides by out-buildings and a clock tower,
+and on the fourth by the house itself. Mr. Heron led the way through
+some dark, cool passages, expatiating as he went upon the architecture
+of the building; finally they entered a small but pleasant little room,
+where he offered his guest a seat, and ordered refreshments to be set
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid that everyone is out," Mr. Heron said, after opening and
+shutting the doors of two or three rooms in succession, and returning to
+Stretton with rather a discomfited countenance. "The afternoon is
+growing cool, you see, and they have gone for a drive. However, you can
+have a look at the terrace and the banqueting-hall while it's still
+light, and we shall hope for the pleasure of your company at some other
+time when my wife is at home, Mr. Stretton, if you are staying near us."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind," murmured Stretton. "But I fear that I must proceed
+with my journey to-morrow. I ought not to stay&mdash;I must not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off abruptly. Mr. Heron forgot his good manners, and stared at
+him in surprise. There was something a little odd about this grey-haired
+young man after all. But, after a pause, the stranger seemed to recover
+his self-possession, and repeated his excuses more intelligibly. Mr.
+Heron was sorry to hear of his probable departure.</p>
+
+<p>They wandered round the garden together. It was a pleasant place, with
+terraced walks and shady alcoves, so quaint and trim that it might well
+have passed for that fair garden to which Boccaccio's fine ladies and
+gallant cavaliers fled when the plague raged in Florence, or for the
+scene on which the hapless Francesca looked when she read the story of
+Lancelot that led to her own undoing. Some such fancies as these passed
+through the crannies of Stretton's mind while he seemed to be listening
+to Mr. Heron's mildly-pedantic allocutions, and absorbed in the
+consideration of mediæval art. Mr. Heron was in raptures with his
+listener.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by-the-bye," said the artist, suddenly, as they paused beside one
+of the windows on the terrace, "if I may trouble you to wait here a
+minute, I will go and fetch the sketch I have made of the garden from
+this point. You will excuse me for a moment. Won't you go inside the
+house? The window is open&mdash;go in, if you like."</p>
+
+<p>He disappeared into another portion of the house, leaving Stretton
+somewhat amused by his host's unceremonious demeanour. He did not accept
+the invitation; he leaned against the wall rather languidly, as though
+fatigued by his long walk, and tried to make friends with a beautiful
+peacock which seemed to expect him to feed it, and yet was half-afraid
+to approach.</p>
+
+<p>As he waited, a gentle sound, of which he had been conscious ever since
+he halted close to the window, rose more distinctly upon his ear. It was
+the sound of a voice engaged in some sort of monotonous reading or
+reciting, and it seemed first to advance to the window near which he
+stood and then to recede. He soon discovered that it was accompanied by
+a soft but regular footfall. It was plain that somebody&mdash;some woman,
+evidently&mdash;was pacing the floor of the room to which this window
+belonged, and that she was repeating poetry, either to herself or to
+some silent listener. As she came near the window, Stretton heard the
+words of an old ballad with which he was himself familiar&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wi' the old moon in her arm:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if we gang to sea, master,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I fear we'd come to harm."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The voice died away as it travelled down the space of the long room.
+Presently it came nearer; the verses were still going on&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, lang, lang may the ladies sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With their fans into their hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before they see Sir Patrick Spens<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Come sailing to the strand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And lang lang may the maidens sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With their gowd combs in their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A' waiting for their ain dear loves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For them they'll see nae mair."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Betty," said a feeble little voice&mdash;a child's voice, apparently quite
+close to the window now&mdash;"I want you to say those two verses over again;
+I like them. And the one about the old moon with the new moon in her
+arms; isn't that pretty?"</p>
+
+<p>"You like that, do you, my little Jack?" said the woman's voice; a rich,
+low voice, so melodious in its loving tones that Stretton positively
+started when he heard it, for it had been carefully subdued to monotony
+during the recitation, and he had not realised its full sweetness. "Do
+you know, darling, I thought that you were asleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Asleep, Betty? I never go to sleep when you are saying poetry to me.
+Aren't you tired of carrying me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am never tired of carrying you, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"My own dear, sweet Queen Bess!" There was the sound of a long, loving
+kiss; and then the slow pacing up and down and the recitation
+re-commenced.</p>
+
+<p>Stretton had thought that morning that nothing could induce him to
+interest himself again in the world's affairs; but at that moment he was
+conscious of the strongest possible feeling of curiosity to see the
+owner of so sweet a voice. The slightest movement on his part, the
+slightest possible push given to the window, which opened into the room
+like a door and was already ajar, would have enabled him to see the
+speakers. But he would not do this. He told himself that he ought to
+move away from the window, but self-government failed him a little at
+that point. He could not lose the opportunity of hearing that beautiful
+voice again. "It ought to belong to a beautiful woman," he thought, with
+a half smile, "but, unfortunately, Nature's gifts are distributed very
+sparingly sometimes. This girl, whosoever she may be&mdash;for I know she is
+young&mdash;has a lovely voice, and probably a crooked figure or a squint. I
+suppose she is Mr. Heron's daughter. Ah, here he comes!"</p>
+
+<p>The artist's flying grey beard and loose velvet coat were seen upon the
+terrace at this moment. "I cannot find the sketch," he cried,
+dolorously. "The servants have been tidying the place whilst I was
+out&mdash;confound them! You must positively stop over to-morrow and see it.
+This is the banqueting-room&mdash;why didn't you go in?" And he pushed wide
+the window which the young man had refrained from opening a single inch.</p>
+
+<p>A flood of light fell on a yard or two of polished oak flooring; but at
+first Stretton could see nothing more, for the rest of the room seemed
+to be in complete darkness to his dazzled eyed. The blinds of the
+numerous windows were all drawn down, and some minutes elapsed before he
+could distinguish any particular object in the soft gloom of the
+apartments. And then he saw that Mr. Heron was speaking to a lady in
+white, and he discovered at once, with a curious quickening of his
+pulses, that the reciter of the ballad stood before him with a child in
+her arms.</p>
+
+<p>She was beautiful, after all! That was Stretton's first thought. She was
+as stately as a queen, with a natural crown of golden-brown hair upon
+her well-poised head; the grand lines of her figure were emphasized by
+the plainness of her soft, white dress, which fell to her feet in folds
+that a sculptor might have envied. The only ornament she wore was a
+string of Venetian beads round the milky whiteness of her throat, but
+her beauty was not of a kind that required adornment. It was like that
+of a flower&mdash;perfect in itself, and quite independent of exterior aid.
+In fact, she was not unlike some tall and stately blossom, or so
+Stretton thought, no exotic flower, but something as strong and hardy as
+it was at the same time delicately beautiful. Her eyes had the colouring
+that one sees in the iris-lily sometimes&mdash;a tint which is almost grey,
+but merges into purple; eyes, as the poet says&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Too expressive to be blue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too lovely to be grey."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In her arms she carried little Jack Heron, and by the way in which she
+held him, it was plain that she was well accustomed to the burden, and
+that his light weight did not tire her well-knit, vigorous limbs. His
+pale, little face looked wistfully at the stranger; it was a curious
+contrast to the glowing yet delicate beauty and perfect health presented
+by the countenance of his cousin Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Heron was introducing the stranger, which he did with a
+note of apology in his voice, which Stretton was not slow to remark. But
+Elizabeth&mdash;he did not catch her name, and still thought her to be a Miss
+Heron&mdash;soon put him at his ease. She accompanied the artist and his
+friend round the banqueting-hall, as they inspected the fine, old
+pictures with which it was hung; she walked with them on the
+terrace&mdash;little Jack still cradled in her arms; and wheresoever she
+went, it seemed to Stretton that he had never in all his life seen any
+woman half so fair.</p>
+
+<p>He did not leave the house, after all, until late that night. He dined
+with the Herons; he saw Mrs. Heron, and Kitty, and the boys; but he had
+no eyes nor ears for anyone but Elizabeth. He did not know why she
+charmed him; he knew only that it was a pleasure to him to see and hear
+her slightest word and movement; and he put this down to the fact that
+she had a sympathetic voice, and a face of undoubted beauty. But in very
+truth, John Stretton&mdash;alias Brian Luttrell&mdash;returned to his inn that
+night in the brilliant Italian moonlight, having (for the first time in
+his life, be it observed) fallen desperately, passionately in love. And
+the woman that he loved was the heiress of the Luttrell estates; the
+last person in the world whom he would have dreamt of loving, had he but
+known her name.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>"WITHOUT A REFERENCE."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Brian&mdash;or to avoid confusion, let us call him by the name that he had
+adopted, Stretton&mdash;rose early, drank a cup of coffee, and was sitting in
+the little verandah outside the inn, looking dreamily out towards a
+distant view of the sea, and thinking (must the truth be told?) of
+Elizabeth, when a visitor was announced. He looked round, and, to his
+surprise, beheld Mr. Heron.</p>
+
+<p>The artist was graver in manner and also a little more nervous than
+usual. After the first greetings were over he sank into an embarrassed
+silence, played with his watch-chain and his eye-glass, and, at last,
+burst somewhat abruptly into the subject upon which he had really come
+to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton," he said, "I trust that you will excuse me if I am taking
+a liberty; but the fact is, you mentioned to me yesterday that you
+thought of taking pupils&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Stretton answered, simply. "I should be very glad if I could find
+any."</p>
+
+<p>"We think that we could find you some, Mr. Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>The young man's pale face flushed; but he did not speak. He only looked
+anxiously at the artist, who was pulling his pointed grey beard in a
+meditative fashion, and seemed uncertain how to proceed with his
+proposition.</p>
+
+<p>"I have two boys running wild for want of a tutor," he said at last. "We
+shall be here some weeks longer, and we don't know what to do with them.
+My wife says they are too much for her. Elizabeth has devoted herself to
+poor little Jack (something sadly wrong with his spine, I'm afraid, Mr.
+Stretton). Kitty&mdash;well, Kitty is only a child herself. The point
+is&mdash;would it be a waste of your time, Mr. Stretton, to ask you to spend
+a few weeks in this neighbourhood, and give these boys two or three
+hours a day? We thought that you might find it worth your while."</p>
+
+<p>Stretton was standing, with his shoulder against one of the vine-clad
+posts that supported the verandah. Mr. Heron wondered at his
+discomposure; for his colour changed from red to white and from white to
+red as sensitively as a girl's, and it was with evident difficulty that
+he brought himself to speak. But when he spoke the mystery seemed, in
+Mr. Heron's eyes, to be partly solved.</p>
+
+<p>"I had better mention one thing from the very first," said the young
+man, quietly. "I have no references. I am afraid the lack of them will
+be a fatal drawback with most people."</p>
+
+<p>"No references!" stammered Mr. Heron, evidently much taken aback.
+"But&mdash;my dear young friend&mdash;how do you propose to get a tutor's work
+without them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Stretton, with a smile in which a touch of
+sternness made itself felt rather than seen. "I don't suppose that I
+shall get very much work at all. But I hope to earn my bread in one way
+or another."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;well, I really don't know what to say," remarked Mr. Heron,
+getting up, and buttoning his yellow gloves reflectively. "I should have
+no objection. I judge for myself, don't you know, by the face and the
+manner and all that sort of thing; but it's a different thing when it
+comes to dealing with women, you know. They are so particular&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I should not suit Mrs. Heron's requirements," said
+Stretton, in a very quiet tone.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that exactly," said Mr. Heron, hesitating; "and yet&mdash;well, of
+course, you know it isn't the usual thing to be met with the plain
+statement that you have no references! Not that I might even have
+thought of asking for them; ten to one that it would ever have occurred
+to me&mdash;but my wife&mdash;&mdash;. Come, you don't mean it literally? You have
+friends in England, no doubt, but you don't want to apply to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Heron; I spoke the literal truth. I have no references
+to give either as to character, attainments, or birth. I have no
+friends. And I agree with you and Mrs. Heron that I should not be a fit
+person to teach your boys their Latin accidence&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so fast, if you please," said Mr. Heron, more impressed by
+Stretton's tone of cold independence than he would have been by sheaves
+of testimonials to his abilities; "not so fast, my good fellow. Now,
+will you do me a favour? Let me think the matter over for half-an-hour,
+and come to you again. Then we will decide the matter, one way or the
+other."</p>
+
+<p>"I should prefer to consider the matter decided now," said Stretton.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, my dear sir, you must not be hasty. In half-an-hour I shall
+see you again," cried the artist, as he turned his back on the young
+man, and walked off towards the Villa Venturi, swinging his stick
+jauntily in his hand. Stretton watched him, and bit his lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I was a fool to say that I wanted work," he said to himself, "and
+perhaps a greater fool to blurt out the fact that I had no respectable
+references so easily. However, I've done for myself in that quarter. The
+British dragon, Mrs. Grundy, would never admit a man as tutor to her
+boys under these mysterious circumstances. All the better, perhaps. I
+should be looked upon with suspicion, as a man 'under a cloud.' And I
+should not like that, especially in the case of that beautiful Miss
+Heron, whose clear eyes seem to rebuke any want of candour or courage by
+their calm fearlessness of gaze. Well, I shall not meet her under false
+pretences now, at any rate." And then he gave vent to a short, impatient
+sigh, and resumed the seat that he had vacated for Mr. Heron's benefit.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to read; but found, to his disgust, that he could not fix his
+mind on the printed page. He kept wondering what report Mr. Heron was
+giving to his wife and family of the interview that he had had with the
+English tutor "without references."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they think that I was civil to the father because I hoped to
+get something out of them," said Stretton to himself, frowning anxiously
+at the line of blue sea in the distance. "Perhaps they are accusing me
+of being a rank impostor. What if they do? What else have I been all my
+life? What a fool I am!"</p>
+
+<p>In despair he flung aside his book, went up to his bed-room, and began
+to pack the modest knapsack which contained all his worldly wealth. In
+half-an-hour&mdash;when he had had that five minutes' decisive conversation
+with Mr. Heron&mdash;he would be on his way to Naples.</p>
+
+<p>He had all but finished his packing when the landlord shuffled upstairs
+to speak to him. There was a messenger from the Villa Venturi. There was
+also a note. Stretton opened it and read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Stretton</span>,&mdash;Will you do me the favour to come up to the
+villa as soon as you receive this note? I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I think I can explain my motive when we meet.</p>
+
+<p>"Yours truly,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Alfred Heron.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Stretton crumpled the note up in his hand, and let it drop to the floor.
+He glanced at his knapsack. Had he packed it too soon or not?</p>
+
+<p>He followed the servant, whom he found in waiting for him&mdash;a stolid,
+impenetrable-looking Englishman, who led the way to an entrance into the
+garden of the villa&mdash;an entrance which Stretton did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your master in the garden? Does he wish me to come this way?" he
+asked, rather sharply.</p>
+
+<p>The stolid servant bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"My master desired me to take you to the lower terrace, sir, if you
+didn't find it too 'ot," he said, solemnly. And Stretton said nothing
+more. The lower terrace? It was not the terrace by the house; it was one
+at the further end of the garden, and, as he soon saw, it was upon a
+cliff overlooking the sea. It was overshadowed by the foliage of some
+great trees, and commanded a magnificent view of the coast, broken here
+and there into inlets and tiny bays, beyond which stretched "the deep
+sapphire of the sea." A slight haze hung over the distance, through
+which the forms of mountain peaks and tiny islets could yet be clearly
+seen. The wash of the water at the foot of the cliff, the chirp of the
+cicadas, were the only sounds to be heard. And here, on a low, wooden
+bench, in the deepest and coolest shade afforded by the trees, Stretton
+found&mdash;not Mr. Heron, as he had expected, but&mdash;Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed, hesitating and confused for the moment, but she gave him her
+white hand with a friendly look which set him at his ease, just as it
+had done upon his entrance to the villa on the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Mr. Stretton," she said, "will you not? My uncle has gone up
+to the house for a paper, or a book, or something, and I undertook to
+entertain you until he came back. Have we not a lovely view? And one is
+always cool here under the trees, now that the heats of summer are past.
+I think you will find it a good place to read in when you are tired of
+giving lessons&mdash;that is, if you are going to be so kind as to give
+lessons to our troublesome boys."</p>
+
+<p>She had looked at him once, and in that glance she read what would have
+taken Mr. Heron's obtuse male intellect weeks to comprehend. She saw the
+young man's slight embarrassment and the touch of pride mingling with
+it; she noticed the spareness of outline and the varying colour which
+suggested recent illness, or delicacy of health; above all, she observed
+the expression of his face, high, noble, refined, as it had always been,
+but darkened by some inexplicable shadow from the past, some trace of
+sorrow which could never be altogether swept away. Seeing all these
+things, she knew instinctively that the calmest and quietest way of
+speaking would suit him best, and she felt that she was right when he
+answered, in rather low and shaken tones&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me. It is for Mr. Heron to decide; not for me."</p>
+
+<p>"I think my uncle has decided," said Elizabeth. "He asked me to
+ascertain when you would be willing to give the boys their first
+lesson."</p>
+
+<p>"He said that, now? Since he saw me?" cried Stretton, as if in
+uncontrollable surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth's lips straightened themselves for a moment. Then she turned
+her face towards the young man, with the look of mingled dignity and
+candour which had already impressed him so deeply, and said, gently&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything to be surprised at in that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Stretton, hanging his head, and absently pulling forward a
+long spray of clematis which grew beside him. "It is a very surprising
+thing to me that Mr. Heron should take me on trust&mdash;a man without
+recommendation, or influence, or friends." He plucked the spray as he
+spoke, and played restlessly with the leaves. Elizabeth watched his
+fingers; she saw that the movement was intended to disguise the fact
+that they were trembling. "As it is," he went on, "even though your
+father&mdash;I beg pardon, your uncle&mdash;admits me to this house, I doubt
+whether I do well to come. I think it would be better in many ways that
+I should decline this situation."</p>
+
+<p>He let the leaves fall from his hand and rose to his feet. "Will you
+tell Mr. Heron what I say?" he asked, in an agitated voice. "Tell him I
+will not take advantage of his kindness. I will go on to Naples&mdash;this
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth was puzzled. This was a specimen of humanity the like of which
+she had never met before. It interested her; though she hardly wished to
+interfere in the affairs of a man who was so much of a riddle to her.
+That he was a stranger and that he was young&mdash;not much older than
+herself, very probably&mdash;were facts that did not enter her mind with any
+deterrent force.</p>
+
+<p>But as Stretton lifted his hat and turned to leave her, she noticed how
+white and wan he looked.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton," she said, imperiously, "please to sit down. You are not
+to attempt that long, hot walk again just now. Besides, you must wait to
+see my uncle. Sit down, please. Now, tell me, you have been ill lately,
+have you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Stretton, seating himself as she bade him, and answering
+meekly. "I had brain fever more than a year ago at the monastery of San
+Stefano, and my recovery was a slow one."</p>
+
+<p>"I know the Prior of San Stefano&mdash;Padre Cristoforo. Do you remember
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He was very good to me. I was there for twelve months or more. He
+gave me work to do in the school."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you mention that to my uncle? He is very fond of Padre
+Cristoforo."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought," said Stretton, colouring a little, and almost as though he
+were excusing himself, "that it would be useless to give the name of a
+Romanist Prior as a referee to Mr. Heron. Most people would think it an
+objection in itself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not give English names, then?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have no English friends."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence. Stretton was leaning back in his seat,
+looking quietly out to sea; Elizabeth was sitting erect, with her hands
+crossed on her lap. Presently she spoke, but without turning her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton, I do not want you to think my remarks impertinent or
+uncalled for. I must tell you first that I am in a somewhat unusual
+position. My aunt is an invalid, and does not like to be troubled about
+the children; my uncle hates to decide anything for himself. They have
+fallen into the habit&mdash;the unlucky habit for me&mdash;of referring many
+practical matters to my decision, and, therefore, you will understand
+that my uncle came to me on his return from the inn this morning and
+told me what you had said. I want to explain all this, so that you may
+see how it is that I have heard it so quickly. No one else knows."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good," said Stretton, feeling his whole heart strengthened
+and warmed by this frank explanation. "I think you must see how great a
+drawback my absence of recommendations is likely to be to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Elizabeth, seriously, "I do. But if you cannot overcome it
+in this case, how are you going to overcome it at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Miss Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"You said that you wished to take pupils," Elizabeth went on, too much
+interested in the subject to notice the mistake made in her name; "you
+told my uncle so, I believe. Will you get them more easily in England
+than here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall no doubt find somebody who will forego the advantages of a
+'character' for the sake of a little scholarship," said Stretton, rather
+bitterly. "Some schoolmaster, who wants his drudgery done cheap."</p>
+
+<p>"Drudgery, indeed!" said Elizabeth, softly. Then, after a pause&mdash;"That
+seems a great pity. And you are an Oxford man, too!"</p>
+
+<p>Stretton looked up, "How do you know that?" he said, almost sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You talked of Balliol last night as if you knew it."</p>
+
+<p>"You have a good memory, Miss Heron. Yes, I was at Balliol; but you will
+not identify me there. The truth will out, you see; I was not at Oxford
+under my present name."</p>
+
+<p>He thought he should read a look of shocked surprise upon her face; but
+he was mistaken. She seemed merely to be studying him with grave,
+womanly watchfulness; not to be easily biassed, nor lightly turned
+aside.</p>
+
+<p>"That is your own affair, of course," she said. "You have a right to
+change your name if you choose. In your own name, I dare say you would
+have plenty of friends."</p>
+
+<p>"I had," he answered, gravely, but not, as she noticed, as if he were
+ashamed of having lost them.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have none now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely none."</p>
+
+<p>"Through your own fault?" She wondered afterwards how she had the
+courage to ask the question; but, at the moment, it came naturally to
+her lips, and he answered it as simply as it was asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Through my misfortune. Pray ask me nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," she said. "I ought not to have asked anything. But
+I was anxious&mdash;for the children's sakes&mdash;and there was nobody to speak
+but myself. I will say nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall beg of you," said Stretton, trying to speak in as even a tone
+as hers, although the muscles round his lips quivered once or twice and
+made utterance somewhat difficult, "I shall beg of you to tell what I
+have said to Mr. Heron only; you and he will perhaps kindly guard my
+secret. I wish I could be more frank; but it is impossible. I trust
+that, when I find employment, my employers will be as kind, as generous,
+as you have been to-day. You will tell your uncle?"</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to tell him?" she said, turning her eyes upon him with a
+kindly smile in their serene depths. "That you will be here to-morrow at
+nine o'clock&mdash;or eight, before the day grows hot? Eight will be best,
+because the boys get so terribly sleepy and cross, you know, in the
+middle of the day; and you will be able to breakfast here at half-past
+ten as we do."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her, scarcely believing the testimony of his own ears. She
+saw his doubt, and continued quietly enough, though still with that
+lurking smile in her sweet eyes. "You must not find fault with them if
+they are badly grounded; or rather you must find fault with me, for I
+have taught them nearly everything they know. They are good boys, if
+they are a little unruly now and then. Here is my uncle coming from the
+house. You had really better wait and see him, will you not, Mr.
+Stretton? I will leave you to talk business together."</p>
+
+<p>She rose and moved away. Stretton stood like a statue, passionately
+desiring to speak, yet scarcely knowing what to say. It was only when
+she gave him a slight, parting smile over her shoulder that he found his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't thank you," he said, hoarsely. She paused for a moment, and he
+spoke again, with long gaps between the sentences. "You don't know what
+you have done for me.... I have something to live for now.... God bless
+you."</p>
+
+<p>He turned abruptly towards the sea, and Elizabeth, after hesitating for
+a moment, went silently to meet her uncle. She was more touched than she
+liked to acknowledge to herself by the young man's emotion; and she felt
+all the pleasurable glow that usually accompanies the doing of a good
+deed.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps we have saved him from great misery&mdash;poverty and starvation,"
+she mused to herself. "I am sure that he is good; he has such a fine
+face, and he speaks so frankly about his troubles. Of course, as my
+uncle says, he may be an adventurer; but I do not think he is. We shall
+soon be able to judge of his character."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Betty," said Mr. Heron, as he came up to her, "what success? Have
+you dismissed the young man in disgrace, or are we to let him try to
+instruct these noisy lads every morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you had better try him, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Elizabeth, it is not for me to decide the question. You know
+very well that I could not do what you insist upon doing for us all&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell Mr. Stretton that, please, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Heron stopped short, and looked at her almost piteously.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, how can I go on pretending to be the master of this house,
+and hiring tutors for my children, when the expense comes out of your
+purse and not out of mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"My purse is wide enough," said Elizabeth, laughing. "Dear uncle, I
+should hate this money if I might not use it in the way I please. What
+good would it be to me if you could not all share it? Besides, I do not
+want to be gossiped about and stared at, as is the lot of most young
+women who happen to be heiresses. I am your orphan niece&mdash;that is all
+that the outside world need know. What does it matter which of us really
+owns the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are very few people of your opinion, my dear," said her uncle.
+"But you are a good, kind, generous girl, and we are more grateful to
+you than we can say. And now, shall I talk to this young man? Have you
+asked him any questions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I do not think that we need reject him because he has no
+references, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Elizabeth. I quite agree with you. But, on the whole, we
+won't mention the fact of his having no references to the rest of the
+family."</p>
+
+<p>"Just what I was about to say, Uncle Alfred."</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon she betook herself to the house, and Mr. Heron proceeded to
+the bench on the cliff, where he held a long and apparently satisfactory
+colloquy with his visitor. And at the end of the conversation it was
+decided that Mr. John Stretton, as he called himself, should give three
+or four hours daily of his valuable time to the instruction of the more
+youthful members of the Heron family.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Hey for the South, the sunny South!" said Percival Heron, striding into
+his friend Vivian's room with a lighted cigar between his teeth and a
+letter in his hand. "I'm off to Italy to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to Heaven that I were off, too!" returned Rupert, leaning back
+in a lounging-chair with a look of lazy discontent. "The fogs last all
+the year round in London. This is May; I don't know why I am in town at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I," said his friend, briskly. "Especially when you have the cash to
+take you out of town as often as you like, and whenever you like, while
+I have to wait on the tender mercies of publishers and editors before I
+can put fifty pounds in my pocket and go for a holiday."</p>
+
+<p>"You're in luck just now, then, I am to understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much so. Look at that, my boy." And he flourished a piece of thin
+paper in Vivian's face. "A cheque for a hundred. I am going to squander
+it on railway lines as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to join your family?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am going to join my family. What a sweetly domestic sound! I
+don't care a rap for my family. I am going to see the woman I love best
+in the world, and, if she were not in Italy, I doubt whether wild horses
+would ever draw me from this vast, tumultuous, smoky, beloved city of
+mine&mdash;Alma Mater, indeed, to me, and to scores of men who are your
+brothers and mine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here, Percival," said Rupert, in a slightly wearied tone, "if
+you are going to rant and rave, I'll go out. My room is quite at your
+disposal, but I am not. I've got a headache. Why don't you go to a
+theatre or a music hall, and work off your superfluous energy there by
+clapping and shouting applause?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival laughed, but seated himself and spoke in a gentler tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll remember your susceptibilities, my friend. Let me stay and smoke,
+that's all. Throw a book at my head if I grow too noisy. Or hand me that
+'Review' at your elbow. I'll read it and hold my tongue."</p>
+
+<p>He was as good as his word. He read so long and so quietly that Vivian
+turned his head at last and addressed him of his own accord.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes your people stay so long abroad?" he said. "Are they going
+to stop there all the summer? I never heard that a summer in Italy was a
+desirable thing."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Elizabeth's doing," answered Percival, coolly. "She and my father
+between them got up an Italian craze; and off they went as soon as ever
+she came into that property, dragging the family behind them, all laden
+with books on Italian art, and quoting Augustus Hare, Symonds, and
+Ruskin indiscriminately. I don't suppose Kitty will have a brain left to
+stand on when she comes back again&mdash;if ever she does come back."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" said Rupert, with a sudden deep change of voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean&mdash;nothing. I mean, if she does not marry an Italian count or an
+English adventurer, or catch malaria and die in a swamp."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens, Percival! how can you talk so coolly? One would think
+that it was a joke!"</p>
+
+<p>Vivian had risen from his chair, and was standing erect, with a decided
+frown upon his brow. Percival glanced at him, and answered lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make such a pother about nothing. She's all right. They're in a
+very healthy place; a little seaside village, where it has been quite
+cool, they say, so far. And they will return before long, because they
+mean to spend the autumn in Scotland. Yes, they say it is 'quite cool'
+at present. Don't see how it can be cool myself; but that's their look
+out. They've all been very well, and there's no immediate prospect of
+the marriage of either of the girls with an Italian or an English
+adventurer; not even of Miss Murray with your humble servant."</p>
+
+<p>Rupert threw himself back into his chair again as if relieved, and a
+half-smile crossed his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Miss Murray?" he asked, rather maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, as far as I know," said Percival, turning over a page and
+smoothing out the "Review" upon his knee. He read on for two or three
+minutes more, then suddenly tossed the book from him, gave it a
+contemptuous kick, and discovered that his cigar had gone out. He got
+up, walked to the mantelpiece, found a match, and lighted it, and then
+said, deliberately&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They've done a devilish imprudent thing out there."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hired a fellow as tutor to the boys without references or
+recommendations, solely because he was good-looking, as far as I can
+make out."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My father."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He and Elizabeth between them. Kitty sings his praises in every letter.
+He teaches the girls Italian."</p>
+
+<p>Rupert said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"So I am going to Italy chiefly to see what the fellow is like. I can't
+make out whether he is young or old. Kitty calls him divinely handsome;
+and my father speaks of his grey hairs."</p>
+
+<p>"And Miss Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray," said Percival, rather slowly, "doesn't speak of him at
+all." Then, he added, in quicker tones&mdash;"Doubtless he isn't worth her
+notice. Elizabeth can be a very grand lady when she likes. Upon my word,
+Vivian, there are times when I wonder that she ever deigned to bestow a
+word or look even upon me!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are modest," said Rupert, drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Modesty's my foible; it always was. So, Hey for the sunny South, as I
+said before.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'O, swallow, swallow, flying, flying South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Any message for the swallow, sir?" touching an imaginary cap. "Shall I
+say that 'Dark and true and tender is the North,' and 'Fierce and false
+and fickle is the South,' or any similar statement?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no message," said Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>"So be it. Do you know anything of young Luttrell&mdash;Hugo
+Luttrell&mdash;by-the-bye?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very little. My sister is interested in him."</p>
+
+<p>"He is going to the bad at an uncommonly swift pace&mdash;that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Mrs. Luttrell talks of making him her heir," said Vivian. "She
+asked him down last winter but he wouldn't go."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wonder at it. She must be a very tough old lady if she thinks
+that he could shoot there with much pleasure after his cousin's
+accident."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose that Mrs. Luttrell asked him with any such notion,"
+returned Rupert. "She merely wanted him to spend a few days with her at
+Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Has she much to leave? I thought the estates were entailed," said
+Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"She has a rather large private fortune. I expected to find that you
+knew all about it," said Rupert, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the last thing that I should concern myself about," said Percival,
+superbly. And Vivian was almost sorry that he had made the remark, for
+it overset all the remains of his friend's good temper, and brought into
+ugly prominence the upright, black mark upon his forehead caused by his
+too frequent frown.</p>
+
+<p>Matters were not mended when Rupert asked, by way of changing the
+conversation, whether Percival's marriage were to take place on Miss
+Murray's return to England.</p>
+
+<p>"Marriage? No! What are you thinking of?" said he, starting up
+impatiently. "Don't you know that our engagement&mdash;such, as it is&mdash;is a
+profound secret from the world in general? You are nearly the only
+person who knows anything about it outside our own family; and even
+there it isn't talked about. Marriage! I only wish there was a chance of
+it. But she is in no hurry to give up her liberty; and I can't press
+her."</p>
+
+<p>And then he took his departure, with an injured feeling that Rupert had
+not been very sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>"I've a good mind to offer to go with him," said Mr. Vivian to himself
+when his friend was gone. "I should like to see them all again; I should
+like to enjoy the Italian sunshine and the fresh, sweet air with Kitty,
+and hear her innocent little comments on the remains of mediæval art
+that her father is sure to be raving about. But it is better not. I
+might forget myself some day. I might say what could not be unsaid. And
+then, poor, little Kitty, it would be hard both for you and for me. No,
+I won't go. Stay in Italy and get married, Kitty: that is the best thing
+for us both. You will have forgotten your old friend by the time you
+come back to London; and I shall drag on at the old round, with the same
+weary, clanking chain at my heels which nobody suspects. Good God!"
+cried Rupert, with a sudden burst of passion which would have startled
+the friends who had seen in him nothing but the perfectly
+self-possessed, cold-natured, well-mannered man of the world, "what a
+fool a man can make of himself in his youth, and repent it all his life
+afterwards in sackcloth and ashes&mdash;yet repent it in vain&mdash;in vain!"</p>
+
+<p>Percival Heron did not choose to announce his coming to his friends. He
+travelled furiously, as it was his fashion to travel when he went
+abroad, and arrived at the little village, on the outskirts of which
+stood the Villa Venturi, so late in the evening that he preferred to
+take a bed at the inn, and sup there, rather than disturb his own people
+until morning. He enjoyed the night at the inn. It was a place much
+frequented by fishermen, who came to fill their bottles before going out
+at night, or to talk over the events of the previous day's fishing.
+There was a garden behind the house&mdash;a garden full of orange and I lemon
+trees&mdash;from which sweet breaths of fragrance were wafted to the nostrils
+of the guests as they sat within the little hostelry. Percival could
+speak Italian well, and understood the <i>patois</i> of the fishermen. He had
+a wonderful gift for languages; and it pleased him to sit up half the
+night, drinking the rough wine of the country, smoking innumerable
+cigarettes, and laughing heartily at the stories of the fisher-folk,
+until the simple-minded Italians were filled with admiration and
+astonishment at this <i>Inglese</i> who was so much more like one of
+themselves than any of the <i>Inglesi</i> that they had ever met.</p>
+
+<p>Owing to these late hours and the amount of talking, perhaps, that he
+had got through, Percival slept late next morning, and it was not until
+eleven o'clock that he started, regardless of the heat, for the Villa
+Venturi. He had not very far to go, and it was with a light heart that
+he strode along holding a great, white umbrella above his head, glancing
+keenly at the view of sea and land which made the glory of the place,
+turning up his nose fastidiously at the smells of the village, and
+wondering in his heart what induced his relations to stay so long out of
+London. He rang the bell at the gateway with great decision, and told
+the servant to inform Mr. Heron that "an English gentleman" wished to
+speak to him. He was ushered into a little ante-room, requested to wait
+there until Mr. Heron was found, and left alone.</p>
+
+<p>But he was not content to wait very patiently. He was sure that he heard
+voices in the next room. Being quite without the scruples which had made
+Stretton, not long before, refuse to push open a door one single inch in
+order to see what was not meant to meet his eyes, he calmly advanced to
+an archway screened by long and heavy curtains, parted them with his
+fingers, and looked in.</p>
+
+<p>It was an innocent scene, and a pretty scene enough, on which his eyes
+rested, and yet it was one that gave Percival little pleasure. The room
+was not very light, and such sunshine as entered it fell through the
+coloured panes of a stained-glass window high in the wall. At an old oak
+table, black and polished with age, sat two persons&mdash;a master and a
+pupil. They had one book between them, and the pupil was reading from
+it. Papers, dictionaries, and copybooks strewed the table; it was
+evident that other pupils had been there before, but that they had
+abandoned the scene. Percival set his teeth, and the brightness went out
+of his eyes. If only the pupil had not been Elizabeth!</p>
+
+<p>It was not that she showed any other feeling than that of interest in
+the book that she was reading. Her eyes were fixed upon the printed
+page; her lips opened only to pronounce slowly and carefully the
+unfamiliar syllables before her. The tutor was quiet, grave, reserved;
+but Percival noticed, quickly and jealously, that he once or twice
+raised his eyes as if to observe the expression of Elizabeth's fair
+face; and, free from all offence as that glance certainly was, it made a
+wild and unreasoning fury rise up in the lover's heart. He looked, he
+heard an interchange of quiet question and answer, he saw a smile on her
+face, a curiously wistful look on his; then came a scraping sound, as
+the chairs were pushed back over the marble floor, and master and pupil
+rose. The lesson was over. Percival dropped the curtain.</p>
+
+<p>He was so pale when Elizabeth came to him in the little ante-room that
+she was startled.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not well, Percival?" she asked, as she laid her hand in his.
+She did not allow him to kiss her; she did not allow him to announce her
+engagement; and, as he stood looking down into her eyes, he felt that
+the present state of things was very unsatisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be better if you administer the cure," he said. "Give me a
+kiss, Elizabeth; just one. Remember that I have not seen you for nearly
+eight months."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought we made a compact," she began, trying to withdraw her hand
+from his; but he interrupted her.</p>
+
+<p>"That I should not kiss you&mdash;often; not that I should never kiss you at
+all, Elizabeth. And as I have come all the way from England, and have
+not seen you for so long, you might as well show me whether you are glad
+or not."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to see you," said Elizabeth, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you? Then kiss me, my darling,&mdash;only once!"</p>
+
+<p>He put one arm round her. His face was very near her own, and his breath
+came thick and fast, but he waited for her permission still. In his own
+heart he made this kiss the crucial test of her faithfulness to him. But
+Elizabeth drew herself away. It seemed as though she found his eagerness
+distasteful.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't care for me? You find that you don't love me!" said
+Percival, almost too sharply for a lover. "I may go back to England as
+soon as I like? I came only to see you. Tell me that my journey has been
+a useless one, and I'll go."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled as she looked at him. "You have not forgotten how to be
+tyrannical," she said. "I hardly knew you when I first came in, because
+you looked so quiet and gentle. Don't be foolish, Percival."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course, it is folly for a man to love you," groaned Percival,
+releasing her hands and taking a step or two away from her. "You have
+mercy on every kind of folly but that. Well, I'll go back."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you will not," said Elizabeth, calmly. "You will stay here and
+enjoy yourself, and go for a sail in the boat with us this evening, and
+eat oranges fresh from the trees, and play with the children. We are all
+going to take holiday whilst you are here, and you must not disappoint
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must kiss me once, Elizabeth." But Percival's face was
+melting, and his voice had a half-laughing tone. "I must be bribed to do
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, you shall be bribed," she answered, but with a rather
+heightened colour upon her cheek. And then she lifted up her face; but,
+as Percival perceived with a vague feeling of irritation, she merely
+suffered him to kiss her, and did not kiss him in return.</p>
+
+<p>His next proceeding was to put his father through a searching catechism
+upon the antecedents and abilities of the tutor, Mr. John Stretton, who
+was by this time almost domiciled at the Villa Venturi. Mr. Heron's
+replies to his son's questions were so confused, and finished so
+invariably by a reference to Elizabeth, that Percival at last determined
+to see what he could extract from her. He waited for a day or two before
+opening the subject. He waited and watched. He certainly discovered
+nothing to justify the almost insane dislike and jealousy which he
+entertained with respect to Mr. Stretton; when he reasoned with himself
+he knew that he was prejudiced and unreasonable; but then he had a habit
+of considering that his prejudices should be attended to. He examined
+the children, hoping to find that the new tutor's scholarship might give
+him a loophole for criticism; but he could find nothing to blame. In
+fact, he was driven reluctantly to admit that the tutor's knowledge was
+far wider and deeper than his own, although Percival was really no mean
+classical scholar, and valued himself upon a thorough acquaintance with
+modern literature of every kind. He was foiled there, and was therefore
+driven back upon the subject of the tutor's antecedents.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this man Stretton, Elizabeth?" he asked one day. "My father says
+you know all about him."</p>
+
+<p>"I?" said Elizabeth, opening her eyes. "I know nothing more than Uncle
+Alfred does."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed. Then you engaged him with remarkably little prudence, as it
+appears to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Prudence is not quite the highest virtue in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my dear Queen Bess, as Jack calls you, don't be didactic. Where
+did you pick up this starveling tutor? Was he fainting by the roadside?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton teaches very well, and is much liked by the boys,
+Percival. You heard Aunt Isabel tell the story of his first meeting with
+Uncle Alfred."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes; the rescue of the umbrella. Well, what else? Of course, he got
+somebody to introduce him in proper form after that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"No! Then you had friends in common? You knew his family?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how, in Heaven's name, Elizabeth, did he make good his footing
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. The two were sitting upon the low bench on the
+cliff. It was evening, and the sun was sinking to rest over the golden
+waters; the air was silent and serene, Percival had been smoking, but he
+flung his cigar away, and looked full into Elizabeth's face as he asked
+the question.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke at last, tranquilly as ever.</p>
+
+<p>"He was poor, Percival, and we wanted to help him. You and I are not
+likely to think the worse of a man for being poor, are we? He had been
+ill; he seemed to be in trouble, and we were sorry for him; and I do not
+think that my uncle made a mistake in taking him."</p>
+
+<p>"And I," said Percival, with an edge in his voice, "think that he made a
+very great mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he repeated, with a short, savage laugh. "I shall not tell you
+why."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know anything against Mr. Stretton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What, Percival?" Her tone was indignant; the colour was flaming in her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that Stretton is not his name. My father told me so." There was
+a pause, and then Percival went on, in a low voice, but with a gathering
+intensity which made it more impressive than his louder tones. "I'll
+tell you what I should do if I were my father. I should say to this
+fellow&mdash;'Now, you may be in trouble through no fault of your own, but
+that is no matter to me. If you cannot bear your own name, you have no
+business to live in an honest man's house under false pretences; you
+may, therefore, either tell me your whole story, and let me judge
+whether it is a disgraceful one or not, or you may go&mdash;the quicker the
+better.' That's what I should say to Mr. Stretton; and the sooner it is
+said to him the more I shall be pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunately," said Elizabeth, "the decision does not rest in your
+hands." She rose, and drew herself to her full height; her cheeks were
+crimson, her eyes gleamed with indignation. "Mr. Stretton is a
+gentleman; as long as he is in my employment&mdash;mine, if you please; not
+yours, nor your father's, after all&mdash;he shall be treated as one. You
+could not have shown yourself more ungenerous, more poor-spirited,
+Percival, than by what you have said to-day."</p>
+
+<p>And then she walked with a firm, resolute step and head erect, towards
+the house. Percival did not attempt to follow her. He watched her until
+she was out of sight, then he re-seated himself, and sank into deep
+meditation. It was night before he roused himself, and struck a blow
+with his hand upon the arm of the seat, which sent the rotten woodwork
+flying, as he gave utterance to his conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>"I was right after all. My father will live to own it some day. He has
+made a devil of a mistake."</p>
+
+<p>Then he rose and took the path to the house. Before he entered it,
+however, he looked vengefully in the direction in which the twinkling
+lights of the little village inn could be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have a secret," he said, slowly and resolutely, from between his
+clenched teeth, "I'll find it out. If you have a disgraceful story in
+your life, I'll unmask it. If you have another name you want to hide,
+I'll publish it to the world. So help me, God! Because you have come, or
+you are coming, between me and the woman that I love. And if I ever get
+a chance to do you a bad turn, Mr. John Stretton, I'll do it."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Shall I go, or shall I not go?" meditated Hugo Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>He was lying on a broad, comfortable-looking lounge in one of the
+luxurious rooms which he usually occupied when he stayed for any length
+of time in London. He had been smoking a dainty, perfumed cigarette&mdash;he
+very seldom smoked anything except cigarettes&mdash;but he held it absently
+between his fingers, and finally let it drop, while he read and re-read
+a letter which his servant had just brought to him.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly two years had passed since Richard Luttrell's death; years which
+had left their mark upon Hugo in many ways. The lines of his delicately
+beautiful, dark face had grown harder and sharper; and, perhaps on this
+account, he had a distinctly older look than was warranted by his
+two-and-twenty years. There were worn lines about his eyes, and a
+decided increase of that subtlety of expression which gave something of
+an Oriental character to his appearance. He had lost the youthful,
+almost boyish, look which had characterised him two years ago; he was a
+man now, but hardly a man whom one would have found it easy to trust.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was from Angela Vivian. She had written, at Mrs. Luttrell's
+request, to ask Hugo to pay them a visit. Mrs. Luttrell still occupied
+the house at Netherglen, and she seemed anxious for an interview with
+her nephew. Hugo had not seen her for many months; he had left Scotland
+almost immediately after Brian's departure, with the full intention of
+setting foot in it no more. But he had then considered himself tolerably
+prosperous. Brian's death had thrown a shade over his prospects. He
+could no longer count upon a successful application to Mr. Colquhoun if
+he were in difficulties, and Brian's six thousand pounds melted before
+his requirements like snow before an April sun. He had already
+squandered the greater part of it; he was deeply in debt; and he had no
+relation upon whom he could rely for assistance&mdash;unless it were Mrs.
+Luttrell, and Hugo had a definite dislike to the thought of asking Mrs.
+Luttrell for money.</p>
+
+<p>It was no more than a dislike, however. It was an unpleasant thing to
+do, perhaps, but not a thing that he would refrain from doing, if
+necessary. Why should not Mrs. Luttrell be generous to her nephew?
+Possibly she wished to make him her heir; possibly she would offer to
+pay his debts; at any rate, he could not afford to decline her help. So
+he must start for Netherglen next day.</p>
+
+<p>"Netherglen! They are still there," he said to himself, as he stared
+moodily at the sheet of black-edged note-paper, on which the name of the
+house was stamped in small, black letters. "I wonder that they did not
+leave the place. I should have done so if I had been Aunt Margaret. I
+would give a great deal to get out of going to it myself!"</p>
+
+<p>A sombre look stole over his face; his hand clenched itself over the
+paper that he held; in spite of the luxurious warmth of the room, he
+gave a little shiver. Then he rose and bestirred himself; his nature was
+not one that impelled him to dwell for very long upon any painful or
+disturbing thought.</p>
+
+<p>He gave his orders about the journey for the following day, then dressed
+and went out, remembering that he had two or three engagements for the
+evening. The season was nearly over, and many people had left London,
+but there seemed little diminution in the number of guests who were
+struggling up and down the wide staircase of a house at which Hugo
+presented himself about twelve o'clock that night, and he missed very
+few familiar faces amongst the crowd as he nodded greetings to his
+numerous acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Luttrell," said a voice at his ear, "I was wondering if I should
+see you. I thought you might be off to Scotland already."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you I was going to Scotland?" said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>The dark shadow had crossed his face again; if there was a man in
+England whom at that time he cordially disliked, it was this
+man&mdash;Angela's brother&mdash;Rupert Vivian. He did not know why, but he always
+had a presage of disaster when he saw that high-bred, impassive face
+beside him, or heard the modulation of Vivian's quiet, musical voice.
+Hugo was superstitious, and he firmly believed that Rupert Vivian's
+presence brought him ill luck.</p>
+
+<p>"Angela wrote to me that Mrs. Luttrell was inviting you to Netherglen. I
+was going there myself, but I have been prevented. A relation of mine in
+Wales is dying, and has sent for me, so I may not be able to get to
+Scotland for some weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry not to see you. I shall be gone by the time you reach Scotland,
+then," responded Hugo, amiably.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Rupert looked down with a reflective air. "Come here, will you?"
+he said, drawing Hugo aside into a small curtained recess, with a seat
+just wide enough for two, which happened at that moment to be empty. "I
+have something to ask you; there is something that you can do for me if
+you will."</p>
+
+<p>"Happy to do anything in my power," murmured Hugo. He did not like to be
+asked to help other people, but there was a want of assurance in
+Vivian's usually self-contained demeanour which roused his curiosity.
+"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to begin with, you know the Herons and Miss Murray, do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know them by name. I have met Percival Heron sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that they have returned rather unexpectedly from Italy and
+gone to Strathleckie, the house on the other side of the property&mdash;about
+six miles from Netherglen?"</p>
+
+<p>"How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that Miss Murray thinks she may as well take possession of
+her estate," replied Rupert, rather shortly. "May I ask whether you are
+going to call?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I shall certainly call."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, look here, Luttrell, I want you to do something for me," said
+Vivian, falling into a more friendly and confidential strain than he
+usually employed with Hugo. "Will you mention&mdash;in an incidental sort of
+way&mdash;to Mrs. Heron the reason why I have not come to Scotland&mdash;the claim
+that my relation in Wales has on me, and all that sort of thing? It is
+hardly worth while writing about it, perhaps; still, if it came in your
+way, you might do me a service."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo was so much relieved to find nothing more difficult required of him
+that he gave vent to a light laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you write?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to write about. I do not correspond with them," said
+Rupert, actually colouring a little beneath Hugo's long, satirical gaze.
+"But I fancy they may think me neglectful. I promised some time ago that
+I would run down; and I don't see how I can&mdash;until November, at the
+earliest. And, if you are there, you may as well mention the reason for
+my going to Wales, or, you see, it will look like a positive slight."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm to say all this to Mrs. Heron, am I? And to no one beside?"</p>
+
+<p>"That will be quite sufficient." There was a slight touch of hauteur in
+Vivian's tone. "And, if I may trouble you with something else&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No trouble at all. Another message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly. If you would take care of this little packet for me I
+should be glad. I am afraid of its being crushed or lost in the post. It
+is for Miss Heron."</p>
+
+<p>He produced a little parcel, carefully sealed and addressed. It looked
+like a small, square box. Hugo smiled as he took it in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Perishable?" he asked, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly. The contents are fully a hundred years old already. It is
+something for Miss Heron's birthday. She is a great favourite of mine&mdash;a
+nice little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a child, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course. One won't be able to send her presents by-and-bye," said
+Rupert, with rather an uneasy laugh. "What a pity it is that some
+children ever grow up! Well, thanks, Hugo; I shall be very much obliged
+to you. Are you going now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must be moving on, I suppose. I saw old Colquhoun the other day and he
+began telling me about Miss Murray, and all the wonders she was doing
+for the Herons. Makes believe that the money is theirs, not her own,
+doesn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Odd idea. She must be a curiosity. They brought a tutor with them from
+Italy, I believe; some fellow they picked up in the streets."</p>
+
+<p>"He has turned out a very satisfactory one," Rupert answered, coldly.
+"They say that he makes a capital tutor for the little boys. I think he
+is a favourite with all of them; he teaches Miss Heron Italian."</p>
+
+<p>His voice had taken a curiously formal tone. It sounded as though he was
+displeased at something which had occurred to him.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo thought of that tone and of the conversation many times before he
+left London next evening. He was rather an adept at the discovery of
+small mysteries; he liked to draw conclusions from a series of small
+events, and to ferret out other people's secrets. He thought that he was
+now upon the track of some design of Vivian's, and he became exceedingly
+curious about it. If it had been possible to open the box without
+disturbing the seals upon it, he would certainly have done so; but, this
+being out of the question, he contented himself with resolving to be
+present when it was opened, and to observe with care the effect produced
+by Vivian's message on the faces of Mrs. Heron, Miss Heron, and Miss
+Murray.</p>
+
+<p>He reached Dunmuir (where the nearest station to his aunt's house was
+situated) at eleven o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Luttrell had sent the
+mail-phaeton for him. As Hugo took the reins and glanced at the shining
+harness and the lustrous coats of the beautiful bays, he could not help
+remembering the day when the mail-phaeton had last been sent to bring
+him from the station. Richard had then sat in the place that he now
+occupied, with Angela beside him; and Brian and Hugo laughed and talked
+in the back seat, and were as merry as they well could be. Nearly two
+years ago! What changes had been seen since then.</p>
+
+<p>The bays were fidgetty and would not start at once. Hugo was just
+shouting a hasty direction to the groom at their heads when he happened
+to glance aside towards the station door where two or three persons were
+standing. The groom had cause to wonder what was the matter. Hugo gave
+the reins a tremendous jerk, which brought the horses nearly upon their
+haunches, and then let them go at such a pace that it seemed as if he
+had entirely lost control over them. But he was a very good whip, and
+soon mastered the fiery creatures, reducing their mad speed by degrees
+to a gentle trot, which enabled the groom to overtake them, panting and
+red in the face, indeed, as he swung himself up behind. The groom was
+inclined to think that Mr. Hugo had lost his nerve for a few moments;
+for "his face turned as white," honest John remarked afterwards, "as if
+he had seen a ghost."</p>
+
+<p>"John," said Hugo, after driving for a good two miles in silence, "who
+was that gentleman at the station door?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gentleman, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"A young man&mdash;at least, he seemed young&mdash;in a great-coat."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;I don't think that's a young gentleman, exactly; least-ways he's
+got grey hair. That's the gentleman that teaches at Mr. Heron's, sir;
+Mr. Heron, the uncle to Miss Murray that has the property now. His
+name's Mr. Stretton, sir. I asked Mr. Heron's coachman."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>The groom hesitated and shuffled; but, upon being kept sharply to the
+point, avowed that it was because the gentleman "seen from behind"
+looked so much like Mr. Brian Luttrell. "Of course, his face is quite
+different from Mr. Brian's, sir," he said, hastily, noting a shadow upon
+Hugo's brow; "and he has grey hair and a beard, and all that; but his
+walk was a little like poor Mr. Brian's, sir, I thought."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo was silent. He had not noticed the man's gait, but, in spite of the
+grey hair, the tanned complexion, the brown beard&mdash;which had lately been
+allowed to cover the lower part of Mr. Stretton's face, and had changed
+it very greatly&mdash;in spite of all these things he had noticed, and been
+startled by, the expression of a pair of grave, brown eyes&mdash;graver and
+sadder than Brian's eyes used to be, but full of the tenderness and the
+sweetness that Hugo had never seen in the face of any other man. Full,
+also, of recognition; there was the rub. A man who knows you cannot look
+at you in the same way as one who knows you not, and it was this look of
+knowledge which had unnerved Hugo, and make him doubt the evidence of
+his own senses.</p>
+
+<p>He was still silent and absorbed when he arrived at Netherglen, and felt
+glad to hear that he was not to see his aunt until later in the day.
+Angela came to meet him at the door; she was pale, and her black dress
+made her look very slender and fragile, but she had the old, sweet smile
+and pleasant words of welcome for him, and could not understand why his
+face was so gloomy, and his eyes so obstinately averted from her own.</p>
+
+<p>It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Hugo was admitted to Mrs.
+Luttrell's sitting-room. He had scarcely seen her since the death of her
+eldest son, and was manifestly startled and shocked to see her looking
+so much more aged and worn than she had been two years ago. She greeted
+him much after her usual fashion, however; she allowed him to touch her
+smooth, cold cheek with his lips, and take her stiff hand into his own,
+but she showed no trace of any softening emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Hugo," she said. "I am sorry to have brought you away from
+your friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was glad to come," said Hugo, confusedly. "I was not with
+friends; I was in town. It was late for town, but I&mdash;I had business."</p>
+
+<p>"This house is no longer a cheerful one," continued Mrs. Luttrell, in a
+cold, monotonous voice. "There are no attractions for young men now. It
+has been a house of mourning. I could not expect you to visit me."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, Aunt Margaret, I would have come if I had known that you wanted
+me," said Hugo, wondering whether his tardiness would entail the loss of
+Mrs. Luttrell's money.</p>
+
+<p>He recovered his self-possession and his fluency at this thought; if
+danger were near, it behoved him to be on the alert.</p>
+
+<p>"I have wanted you," said Mrs. Luttrell. "But I could wait. I knew that
+you would come in time. Now, listen to what I have to say."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo held his breath. What could she say that needed all this preamble?</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo Luttrell," his aunt began, very deliberately, "you are a poor man
+and an extravagant one."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo smiled, and bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"But you are only extravagant. You are not vicious. You have never done
+a dishonourable thing&mdash;one for which you need blush or fear to meet the
+eye of an honest man? Answer me that, Hugo. I may know what you will
+say, but I want to hear it from your own lips."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo did not flinch. His face assumed the boyish innocence of expression
+which had often stood him in good stead. His great, dark eyes looked
+boldly into hers.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all true, Aunt Margaret. I may have done foolish things, but
+nothing worse. I have been extravagant, as you say, but I have not been
+dishonourable."</p>
+
+<p>He could not have dared to say so much if Richard or Brian had been
+alive to contradict him; but they were safely out of the way and he
+could say what he chose.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I can trust you, Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"I will try to be worthy of your trust, Aunt Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>He bent down to kiss her hand in his graceful, foreign fashion; but she
+drew it somewhat hastily away.</p>
+
+<p>"No. None of your Sicilian ways for me, Hugo. That foreign drop in your
+blood is just what I hate. But you're the only Luttrell left; and I hope
+I know my duty. I want to have a talk with you about the house, and the
+property, and so on."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be glad if I can do anything to help you," said Hugo, smoothly.
+His cheek was beginning to flush; he wished that his aunt would come to
+the point. Suspense was very trying! But Mrs. Luttrell seemed to be in
+no hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, perhaps," she said, "that I am a tolerably rich woman still.
+The land, the farms, and the moors, and all that part of the property
+passed to Miss Murray upon my sons' deaths; but this house and the
+grounds (though not the loch nor the woods) are still mine, and I have a
+fair income with which to keep them up. I should like to know that one
+of my husband's name was to come after me. I should like to know that
+there would be Luttrells of Netherglen for many years to come."</p>
+
+<p>She paused a few minutes, but Hugo made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a proposition to make to you," she went on presently. "I don't
+make it without conditions. You shall hear what they are by-and-bye. I
+should like to make you my heir. I can leave my money and my house to
+anyone I choose. I have about fifteen-hundred a-year, and then there's
+the house and the garden. Should you think it worth having?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said Hugo, with a wily avoidance of any direct answer, "that
+it is very painful to hear you talk of leaving your property to anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"That is mere sentimental nonsense," replied his aunt, with a
+perceptible increase in the coldness of her manner. "The question is,
+will you agree to the conditions on which I leave my money to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will do anything in my power," murmured Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you, then, to arrange to spend at least half the year with me
+here. You can leave the army; I do not think that it is a profession
+that suits you. Live here, and fill the place of a son to me. I have no
+sons left. Be as like one of them as it is in your power to be."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Hugo's face fell. Leave the army, leave England,
+bury himself for half the year with an old woman in a secluded spot,
+which, although beautiful in summer and autumn, was unspeakably dreary
+in winter? She had not required so much of Richard or Brian; why should
+she ask for such a sacrifice from him?</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell watched his face, and read pretty clearly the meaning of
+the various expressions which chased each other across it.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a hard thing to you at first, no doubt," she said, composedly.
+"But you would find interests and amusements in course of time. You
+would have six months of the year in which to go abroad, or to divert
+yourself in London. You should have a sufficient income. And my other
+condition is that you marry as soon as you can find a suitable wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Marry?" said Hugo, in dismay. "I never thought of marriage!" |</p>
+
+<p>"You will think of it some time, I presume. An early marriage is good
+for young men. I should like to see you married, and have your children
+growing up about me."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you have thought of a suitable lady?" said Hugo, with a
+half-sneer. The prospect that had seemed so desirable at first was now
+very much lowered in his estimation, and he did not disguise the sullen
+anger that he felt. But he hardly expected Mrs. Luttrell's answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! Who is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray. Elizabeth Murray, to whom your cousins' estates have
+gone."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a person is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Young, beautiful, rich. A little older than yourself, but not much. You
+would make a fine couple, Hugo. She came to see me the other day, and
+you would have thought she was a princess."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see her," said Hugo, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you must just go and call. And then you can think the matter over
+and let me know. I'm in no hurry for a decision."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good, Aunt Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I am only endeavouring to be just. I should like to see you
+prosperous and happy. And, while you are here, you will oblige me by
+considering yourself the master of the house, Hugo. Give your own
+orders, and invite your own friends."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo murmured some slight objection.</p>
+
+<p>"It will not affect my comfort in the least. I kept some of the horses,
+and one or two vehicles that I thought you would like. Use them all. You
+will not expect to see very much of me; I seldom come downstairs, so the
+house will be free for you and your friends. When you have decided what
+you mean to do, let me know."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo thanked her and retired. He did not see her again until the
+following evening, when she met him with a question.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Miss Murray yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hugo, lowering his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And have you come to any decision?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to know what it is," said Mrs. Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>Her hands, which were crossed before her on her knee, trembled a little
+as she said the words.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo hesitated for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made my decision," he said at last, in a firm voice, "and it is
+one that I know I shall never have cause to repent. Aunt Margaret, I
+accept your kind&mdash;your generous&mdash;offer, and I will be to you as a son."</p>
+
+<p>He had prepared his little speech so carefully that it scarcely sounded
+artificial when it issued from those curved, beautiful lips, and was
+emphasised by the liquid softness of his Southern eyes.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LOST LETTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugo's visit to the Herons was paid rather late in the afternoon, and
+he, therefore, had the full benefit of the whole family party, as each
+member of it dropped in to tea. Mrs. Heron's old habits still
+re-asserted themselves, in spite of the slight check imposed on her by
+the remembrance that the house belonged to Elizabeth, that the many new
+luxuries and comforts, including freedom from debt, had come from
+Elizabeth's purse, and that Elizabeth, although she chose to abdicate
+her power, was really the sovereign of Strathleckie. But Elizabeth
+arrogated so little to herself, and was so wonderfully content to be
+second in the house, that Mrs. Heron was apt to forget the facts of the
+case, and to act as if she were mistress as much as she had ever been in
+the untidy dwelling in Gower-street.</p>
+
+<p>As regarded the matter of tidiness, Elizabeth had made reforms. There
+were now many more servants than there had been in Gower-street, and the
+drawing-room could not present quite the same look of chaos as had
+formerly prevailed there. But Elizabeth knew the ways of the household
+too well to expect that Mr. Heron's paint-brushes, Mrs. Heron's novels,
+and the children's toys would not be found in every quarter of the
+house; it was as much as she could do to select rooms that were intended
+to fill the purposes of studio, boudoir, and nursery; she could not make
+her relations confine themselves and their occupations to their
+respective apartments.</p>
+
+<p>She had had a great struggle with her uncle before the present state of
+affairs came about. He had roused himself sufficiently to protest
+against making use of her money and not giving her, as he said, her
+proper position; but Elizabeth's determined will overcame all his
+objections. "I never wanted this money," she said to him; "I think it a
+burden. The only way in which I can enjoy it is by making life a little
+easier to other people. And you have the first claim&mdash;you and my
+cousins; because you took me in and were good to me when I was a little,
+friendless orphan of twelve years old. So, now that I have the chance,
+you must come and stay with me in my house and keep me from feeling
+lonely, and then I shall be able to think that my wealth is doing good
+to somebody beside myself. You make me feel as if I were a stranger, and
+not one of yourselves, when you object to my doing things for you. Would
+you mind taking gifts from Kitty? And am I so much less dear to you than
+Kitty? You used to tell me that I was like a daughter to you. Let me be
+your daughter still."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Heron found it difficult to make protests in the face of these
+arguments; and Mrs. Heron slid gracefully into the arrangement without
+any protest at all. Kitty's objections were easily overcome; and the
+children thought it perfectly natural that their cousin should share her
+good gifts with them, in the same way that, when she was younger, she
+divided with them the toys and sweeties that kind friends bestowed upon
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, when Hugo called at Strathleckie, he was struck with the fact
+that it was Mrs. Heron, and not Elizabeth, who acted as his hostess. It
+needed all his knowledge of the circumstances and history of the family
+to convince himself that the house did not belong to Alfred Heron, the
+artist, and that the stately girl in a plain, black dress, who poured
+out the tea, was the real mistress of the house. She acted very much as
+though she were a dependent, or at most an elder daughter, in the same
+position as little Kitty, who assumed no airs of authority over anybody
+or anything.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo admired Elizabeth, as he admired beautiful women everywhere; but he
+was not interested in her. Mentally he called her fool for not adopting
+her right station and spending her money in her own way. She was too
+grave for him. He was more at his ease with Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert Vivian's message&mdash;if it could be called a message&mdash;was given
+lightly and carelessly enough, but Hugo had the satisfaction of seeing
+the colour flash all over Miss Heron's little <i>mignonne</i> face as he
+listened to Mrs. Heron's languid reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! and is that old relative in Wales really dying? Mr. Vivian has
+always made periodical excursions into Wales ever since I knew him.
+Well, I wondered why he did not write to say that he was coming. It was
+an understood thing that he should stay with us as soon as we returned
+from Italy, and I was surprised to hear nothing from him. Were not you,
+Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I was not at all surprised," said Kitty, rather sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a commission to execute for my friend," said Hugo, turning a
+little towards her. "Mr. Vivian asked me to take charge of a parcel, and
+to place it in your own hands; he was afraid that it would be broken if
+it went by post. He told me that it was a little birthday remembrance."</p>
+
+<p>He laid the parcel on a table beside the girl. He noticed that her
+colour varied, but that she did not speak. Mrs. Heron's voice filled the
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"How kind of you to bring it, Mr. Luttrell! Mr. Vivian always remembers
+our birthdays; especially Kitty's. Does he not, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not mine especially," said Kitty, frowning. She looked at the box as if
+she did not care to open it.</p>
+
+<p>"Do let us see what it is," pursued Mrs. Heron. "Mr. Vivian has such
+exquisite taste! Shall we open the box, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you like," returned Kitty. "Here is a pair of scissors."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we could not think of opening your box for you; open it yourself,
+dear. Make haste; we are all quite curious, are we not, Mr. Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Luttrell smiled a little, and toyed with his tea-spoon; his eyes
+were fixed questioningly on Kitty's mutinous face, with its
+down-dropped, curling lashes and pouting rose-leaf lips. He felt more
+curiosity respecting the contents of that little box than he cared to
+show.</p>
+
+<p>She opened it at last, slowly and reluctantly, as it seemed to him, and
+took out of a nest of pink cotton-wool a string of filagree silver
+beads. They were very delicately worked, and there was some ground for
+Vivian's fear that they might get injured in the post, for their beauty
+was very great. Mrs. Heron went into ecstasies over the gift. It was
+accompanied merely by a card, on which a few words were written: "For
+Miss Heron's birthday, with compliments and good wishes from Rupert
+Vivian." Kitty read the inscription; her lip curled, but she still kept
+silence. Hugo thought that her eye rested with some complacency upon the
+silver beads; but she did not express a tithe of the pleasure and
+surprise which flowed so readily from Mrs. Heron's fluent tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like them, Kitty?" asked an inconvenient younger brother who
+had entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very pretty," said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so pretty as the ornament he sent you last year," said Harry. "But
+it's very jolly of him to send such nice things every birthday, ain't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is very kind," Kitty answered, with a shy sort of stiffness,
+which seemed to show that she could well dispense with his kindness.
+Hugo laughed to himself, and pictured Vivian's discomfiture if he had
+seen the reception of his present. He changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been long in Scotland, Miss Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>"For a fortnight only. We came rather suddenly, hearing that the tenant
+had left this house. We expected him to stay for some time longer."</p>
+
+<p>"It is fortunate for us that Strathleckie happened to fall vacant," said
+Hugo, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Betty," said one of the boys at that moment, "that Mr.
+Stretton says he has been in Scotland before, and knows this part of the
+country very well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he told me so."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton is our tutor," said Harry, kindly explaining his remark to
+the visitor. "He only came yesterday morning. He had a holiday when we
+came here; and so had we."</p>
+
+<p>"I presume that you like holidays," said Hugo, caressing the silky
+moustache that was just covering his upper lip, and smiling at the
+child, with a notion that he was making himself pleasant to the ladies
+of the party by doing so.</p>
+
+<p>"I liked holidays before Mr. Stretton came to us," said Harry. "But I
+don't mind lessons half so much now. He teaches in such a jolly sort of
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton is a favourite," remarked Hugo, looking at the mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a clever man!" sighed Mrs. Heron. "So kind to the children! We met
+him in Italy."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I saw him at the station yesterday. He has grey hair?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he's quite young," interposed Harry, indignantly. "He isn't
+thirty; I asked him. He had a brain fever, and it turned his hair grey;
+he told me so."</p>
+
+<p>"It has a very striking effect," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "He has a
+fine face&mdash;my husband says a beautiful face&mdash;and framed in that grey
+hair&mdash;&mdash;I wish you could see him, Mr. Luttrell, but he is so shy that it
+seems impossible to drag him out of his own particular den."</p>
+
+<p>"So very shy, is he?" thought Hugo to himself. "I wonder where I have
+seen him. I am sure I have seen him before, and I am sure that he knew
+me. Well, I must wait. I suppose I shall meet him again in the course of
+time."</p>
+
+<p>He took his leave, remembering that he had already out-stayed the
+conventional limits of a call; and he was pleased when Mrs. Heron showed
+some warmth of interest in his future movements, and expressed a wish to
+see him again very soon. Her words showed either ignorance or languid
+neglect of the usages of society, but they did not offend him. He wanted
+to come again. He wanted to see more of Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>He had ridden from Strathleckie to Netherglen, and he paced his horse
+slowly along the solitary road which he had to traverse on his way
+homewards. The beautiful autumn tints and the golden haze that filled
+the air had no attractions for him. But it was pleasant to him to be
+away from Mrs. Luttrell; and he wanted a little space of time in which
+to meditate upon his future course of action. He had seen the woman whom
+his aunt wished him to marry. Well, she was handsome enough; she was
+rich; she would look well at the head of his table, ruling over his
+household, managing his affairs and her own. But he would rather that it
+had been Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>At this point he brought his horse to a sudden standstill. Before him,
+leaning over a gate with his back to the road, he saw a man whom he
+recognised at once. It was Mr. Stretton, the tutor. He had taken off his
+hat, and his grey hair looked very remarkable upon his youthful figure.
+Hugo walked his horse slowly forward, but the beat of the animal's feet
+on the hard road aroused the tutor from his reverie. He glanced round,
+saw Hugo approaching, and then, without haste, but without hesitation,
+quietly opened the gate, and made his way into the field.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo stopped again, and watched him as he crossed the field. He was very
+curious concerning this stranger. He felt as if he ought to recognise
+him, and he could not imagine why.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stretton was almost out of sight, and Hugo was just turning away,
+when his eye fell upon a piece of white paper on the ground beside the
+gate. It looked like a letter. Had the tutor dropped it as he loitered
+in the road? Hugo was off his horse instantly, and had the paper in his
+hand. It was a letter written on thin, foreign paper, in a small, neat,
+foreign hand; it was addressed to Mr. John Stretton, and it was written
+in Italian.</p>
+
+<p>To Hugo, Italian was as familiar as English, and a momentary glance
+showed him that this letter contained information that might be valuable
+to him. He could not read it on the road; the owner of the letter might
+discover his loss and turn back at any moment to look for it. He put it
+carefully into his pocket, mounted his horse again, and made the best of
+his way to Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>He was so late in arriving that he had little time to devote to the
+letter before dinner. But when Mrs. Luttrell had kissed him and said
+good-night, when he, with filial courtesy, had conducted her to the door
+of her bed-room, and taken his final leave of her and of Angela on the
+landing, then he made his way to the library, rang for more lights, more
+coal, spirits and hot water, and prepared to devote a little time to the
+deciphering of the letter which Mr. John Stretton had been careless
+enough to lose.</p>
+
+<p>He was not fond of the library. It was next to the room in which they
+had laid Richard Luttrell when they brought him home after the
+"accident." It looked out on the same stretch of garden; the rose trees
+that had tapped mournfully at that other window, when Hugo was compelled
+by Brian to pay a last visit to the room where the dead man lay, had
+sent out long shoots that reached the panes of the library window, too.
+When there was any breeze, those branches would go on tap, tapping
+against the glass like the sound of a human hand. Hugo hated the noise
+of that ghostly tapping: he hated the room itself, and the long, dark
+corridor upon which it opened, but it was the most convenient place in
+the house for his purpose, and he therefore made use of it.</p>
+
+<p>"San Stefano!" he murmured to himself, as he looked at the name of the
+place from which the letter had been dated. "Why, I have heard my uncle
+mention San Stefano as the place where Brian was born. They lived there
+for some months. My aunt had an illness there, which nobody ever liked
+to talk about. Hum! What connection has Mr. John Stretton with San
+Stefano, I wonder? Let me see."</p>
+
+<p>He spread the letter carefully out before him, turned up the lamp, and
+began to read. As he read, his face turned somewhat pale; he read
+certain passages twice, and then remained for a time in the same
+position, with his elbows upon the table and his face supported between
+his hands. He found matter for thought in that letter.</p>
+
+<p>It ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Stretton</span>,&mdash;I will continue to address you by this name as
+you desire me to do, although I am at a loss to understand your motive
+in assuming it. You will excuse my making this remark; the confidence
+that you have hitherto reposed in me leads me to utter a criticism which
+might otherwise be deemed an impertinence. But it seems to me a pity
+that you either did not retain your old name and the advantages that
+this name placed in your way, or that you did not take up the
+appellation which, as I fear I must repeat, is the only one to which you
+have any legal right. If your name is not Luttrell, it is Vasari. If you
+object to retaining the name of Luttrell, why not adopt Vasari? Why
+complicate matters by taking a name (like that of Stretton) which has no
+meaning, no importance, no distinction? All unnecessary concealment of
+truth is foolish; and this is an unnecessary concealment.</p>
+
+<p>"Secondly, may I ask why you propose to accompany your English friends
+to a place so near your old home? If you wish it to be thought that you
+are dead, why, in Heaven's name, do you go to a spot which is not ten
+miles from the house where you were brought up? True, your appearance is
+altered; your hair is grey and your beard has grown. But your voice:
+have you thought how easily your voice may betray you? And I have known
+cases where the eyes alone have revealed a person's identity. If you
+wish to keep your secret, let me entreat you not to go to Strathleckie.
+If you wish to undo all that you have succeeded in doing, if you wish to
+deprive the lady who has inherited the Strathleckie property of her
+inheritance, then, indeed, you will go to Scotland, but in so doing you
+show a want of judgment and resolution which I cannot understand.</p>
+
+<p>"You were at the monastery with us after your illness for many months.
+We learned to know you well and to regard you with affection. We were
+sorry when you grew restless and wandered away from us to seek fresh
+work amongst English people&mdash;English and Protestant&mdash;for the sake of old
+associations and habit. But we did not think&mdash;or at least I did not
+think&mdash;that you were so illogical and so weak as your present conduct
+drives me to consider you.</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one explanation possible. You risk discovery, you follow
+these people to Scotland because one of the ladies of the family has
+given you, or you hope that she will give you, some special marks of
+favour. In plain words, you are in love. I have partially gathered that
+from your letters. Perhaps she also is in love with you. There is a Miss
+Heron, who is said to be beautiful; there is also Miss Murray. Is it on
+account of either of these ladies that you have returned to Scotland?</p>
+
+<p>"I speak very frankly, because I conceive that I have a certain claim
+upon your confidence. I do not merely allude to the kindness shown to
+you by the Brothers of San Stefano, which probably saved your life. I
+claim your regard because I know that you were born in this village,
+baptised by one of ourselves, that you are of Italian parentage, and
+that you have never had any right to the name that you have borne for
+four-and-twenty years. This was suspicion when I saw you last; it is
+certainty now. We have found the woman Vincenza, who is your mother. She
+has told us her story, and it is one which even your English courts of
+law will find it difficult to disprove. She acknowledges that she
+changed the two children; that, when one of her twins died, she thought
+that she could benefit the other by putting it in the place of the
+English child. Her own baby, Bernardino, was brought up by the Luttrell
+family and called Brian Luttrell. That was yourself.</p>
+
+<p>"How about the English boy, the real heir to the property? I told you
+about him when you were with us; I offered to let you see him: I wanted
+you to know him. You declined; I think you were wrong. You did see him
+many a time; you were friendly with him, although you did not know the
+connection that existed between you. I believe that you will remember
+him when I tell you that he was known in the monastery as Brother Dino.
+Dino Vasari was the name by which he had been known; but I think that
+you never learnt his surname. He had a romantic affection for you, and
+was grieved when you refused to meet the man who had so curious a claim
+upon your notice. I sent him away from the monastery in a few days, as
+you will perhaps remember; I knew that if he saw much of you, not even
+my authority, my influence, would induce him to keep the secret of his
+birth&mdash;from you. You are rivals, certainly; you might be enemies; and,
+just because that cause of rivalry and enmity subsists, Dino Vasari
+loves you with his whole soul. If you stood in your old position, even I
+could not persuade him to dispossess you; but you have voluntarily given
+it up. Your property has gone to your cousin, and Dino has now no
+scruple about claiming his rights. Now that Vincenza Vasari's evidence
+has been obtained, it is thought well that he should make the story
+public, and try to get his position acknowledged. Therefore he is
+starting for England, where he will arrive on the eighteenth of the
+month. He has his orders, and he will obey them. It is perhaps well that
+you should know what they are. He is to proceed at once to Scotland, and
+obtain interviews as soon as possible with Mr. Colquhoun and Mrs.
+Luttrell. He will submit his claims to them, and ascertain the line that
+they will take. After that, he will put the law in motion, and take
+steps towards dispossessing Miss Murray.</p>
+
+<p>"I write all this to you at Dino's own request. I grieve to say that he
+is occasionally headstrong to a degree which gives us pain and anxiety.
+He refused to take any steps in the matter until I had communicated with
+you, because he says that if you intend to make yourself known by your
+former name, and take back the property which accrued to you upon Mr.
+Richard Luttrell's death, he will not stand in your way. I have pointed
+out to him, as I now point out to you, that this line of action would be
+dishonest, and practically impossible, because, in his interests, we
+should then take the matter up and make the facts public, but he insists
+upon my mentioning the proposal. I mention it in full confidence that
+your generosity and sense of honour will alike prevent you from putting
+obstacles in the way of my pupil's recognition by his mother and
+succession to his inheritance.</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish that Dino (as for the sake of convenience I will still call
+him) should be restored to his rights, and if you desire to show that
+you have no ill-feeling towards him on account of this proposed
+endeavour to recover what is really his own, he begs you to meet him on
+his arrival in London on the 18th of August. He will be in lodgings kept
+by a good Catholic friend of ours at No. 14, Tarragon-street,
+Russell-square, and you will inquire for him by the name of Mr. Vasari,
+as he will not assume the name of Brian Luttrell until he has seen you.
+He will, of course, be in secular dress.</p>
+
+<p>"I have now made you master of all necessary facts. If I have done so
+under protest, it is no concern of yours. I earnestly recommend you to
+give up your residence in Scotland, and to return, at any rate until
+this matter is settled, to San Stefano. I need hardly say that Brian
+Luttrell will never let you know the necessity of such drudgery as that
+in which you have lately been engaged.</p>
+
+<p>"With earnest wishes for your welfare, and above all for your speedy
+return to the bosom of the true Catholic Church in which you were
+baptised, and of which I hope to see you one day account yourself a
+faithful child, I remain, my dear son,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Your faithful friend and father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Cristoforo Donaldi</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Prior of the Monastery of San Stefano."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>"MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugo's meditations were long and deep. More than an hour elapsed before
+he roused himself from the thoughtful attitude which he had assumed at
+the close of his first perusal of this letter. When he lifted his face
+from his hands, his lips were white, although they were twisted into the
+semblance of a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"So that is why I fancied I knew his face," he said, half aloud. "Who
+would have thought it? Brian alive, after all! What a fool he must be!
+What an unmitigated, egregious fool!"</p>
+
+<p>He poured out some brandy for himself with rather a shaky hand, and
+drank it off without water. He shivered a little, and drew closer to the
+fire. "It's a very cold night," he muttered, holding his hands out to
+the leaping flame, and resting his forehead upon the marble mantelpiece.
+"It's a cold night, and &mdash;&mdash; it all, are my wits going? I can't think
+clearly; I can hardly see out of my eyes. It's the shock; that's what it
+is. The shock? Yes, Dio mio, and it is a shock, in all conscience!
+Whoever would have believed that Brian could possibly be alive all this
+time! Poor devil! I suppose that little 'accident' to Richard preyed
+upon his mind. He must be mad to have given up his property from a
+scruple of that sort. I never should have thought that a man could be
+such a fool. It's an awful complication."</p>
+
+<p>He threw himself into an arm-chair, and leaned back with his dark,
+delicately-beautiful face slanted reflectively towards the ceiling. He
+was too much disturbed in mind to afford himself the solace of a cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"This old fellow&mdash;the Prior&mdash;seems to know the family affairs very
+intimately," he went on thinking. "This is another extraordinary
+occurrence. Brian alive is nothing to the fact that Brian is the son of
+some Italian woman&mdash;a peasant-woman probably. Did Aunt Margaret suspect
+it? She always hated Brian; every one could see that. When she said
+once, 'He is not my son,' did she mean the words literally? Quite
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>"And the real Brian Luttrell is now to appear on the scene! What is his
+name? Dino&mdash;Bernardino&mdash;Vasari. Of course, there was little use in his
+coming forward as long as Richard Luttrell was alive. Now that he is
+gone and Brian is heir to the property, this young fellow, whom the
+priests have got hold of, becomes important. No doubt this is what they
+have hoped for all along. He will have the property and he is a devout
+son of the Church, and will employ it to Catholic ends. I know the
+jargon&mdash;I heard enough of it in Sicily. They have the proofs, no
+doubt&mdash;they could easily manufacture them if they were wanting; and they
+will oust Elizabeth Murray and set their pet pupil in her place, and
+manage the land and the money and everything else for him. And what will
+Mrs. Luttrell say?"</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and changed his position uneasily. His brows contracted; his
+eye grew restless as he continued to reflect.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my belief," he said at last, "that Mrs. Luttrell will be
+enchanted. And then what will become of me?"</p>
+
+<p>He rose from his chair and began to pace up and down the room. "What
+will become of me?" he repeated. "What will become of the
+fifteen-hundred a-year, and the house and grounds, and all the rest of
+the good things that she promised to give me? They will go, no doubt, to
+the son and heir. Did she ever propose to give me anything while Richard
+and Brian had to be provided for? Not she! She notices me now only
+because she thinks that I am the only Luttrell in existence. When she
+knows that there is a son of her's still living, I shall go to the wall.
+I shall be ruined. There will be no Netherglen for me, no marriage with
+an heiress, no love-making with pretty little Kitty. I shall have to
+disappear from the scene. I cannot hold my ground against a son&mdash;a son
+of the house! Curses on him! Why isn't he dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo bestowed a few choice Sicilian epithets of a maledictory character
+upon Dino Vasari and Brian Luttrell both; then he returned to the table
+and studied the latter pages of Father Cristoforo's letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Meet him in London. I should like to meet Dino Vasari, too. I wonder
+whether Brian had read this letter when he dropped it. These
+instructions come at the very end. If he has not read these sentences, I
+might find a way of outwitting them all yet. I think I could prevent
+Dino Vasari from ever setting foot in Scotland. How can I find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what an extraordinary thing for Brian to do&mdash;to take a tutorship in
+the very family where Elizabeth Murray is living. What has he done it
+for? Is he in love with one of those girls? Or does he hope to retrieve
+his mistake by persuading Elizabeth Murray to marry him? A very
+round-about way of getting back his fortune, unless he means to induce
+Dino Vasari to hold his tongue. If Dino Vasari were out of the way, and
+Brian felt his title to the estate rather shaky, of course, it would be
+very clever of him to make love to Elizabeth. But he's too great a fool
+for that. What was his motive, I wonder? Is it possible that he did not
+know who she was?"</p>
+
+<p>But he rejected this suggestion as an entirely incredible one.</p>
+
+<p>After a little further thought, another idea occurred to him. Father
+Cristoforo's letter consisted of three closely-written sheets of paper.
+He separated the first sheet from the others; the last words on the
+sheet ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is it on account of either of these ladies that you have returned to
+England?"</p>
+
+<p>This sheet he folded and enclosed in an envelope, which he carefully
+sealed and addressed to John Stretton, Esquire. He placed the other
+sheets in his own pocket-book, and then went peacefully to bed. He could
+do nothing more, he told himself, and, although his excitable
+disposition prevented his sleeping until dawn grew red in the eastern
+sky, he would not waste his powers unnecessarily by sitting up to brood
+over the resolution that he had taken.</p>
+
+<p>Before ten o'clock next morning he was riding to Strathleckie. On
+reaching the house he asked at once if he could see Mr. Stretton. The
+maid-servant who answered the door looked surprised, hesitated a moment,
+and then asked him to walk in. He followed her, and was not surprised to
+find that she was conducting him straight to the school-room, which was
+on the ground-floor. He had thought that she looked stupid; now he was
+sure of it. But it was a stupidity so much to his advantage that he
+mentally vowed to reward it by the gift of half-a-crown when he had the
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were at their lessons; their tutor sat at the head of the
+table, with his back towards the light. When he saw Hugo enter, he
+calmly took a pair of blue spectacles from the table and fixed them upon
+his nose. Hugo admired the coolness of the action. The blue spectacles
+were even a better disguise than the grey hair and the beard; if Mr.
+Stretton had worn them when he was standing at the railway station door,
+Hugo would never have been haunted by that look of recognition in his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary has made a mistake," said Mr. Stretton to one of the boys, in a
+curiously-muffled voice. "Take this gentleman up to the drawing-room,
+Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no mistake," said Hugo, suavely. "I called to see Mr. Stretton
+on business; it will not take me a moment to explain. Mr. Stretton, may
+I ask whether you have lost any paper&mdash;a letter, I think&mdash;during the
+last few days?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I lost a letter yesterday afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"On the high road, I think. Then I was not mistaken in supposing that a
+paper that the wind blew to my feet this morning, as I was strolling
+down the road, belonged to yourself. Will you kindly open this envelope
+and tell me whether the paper contained in it is yours?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stretton took the envelope and opened it without a word. He looked
+at the sheet, saw that one only was there, and then replied.</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to you for your kindness. Yes, this is part of the
+letter that I lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Only part? Indeed, I am sorry for that," said Hugo, with every
+appearance of genuine interest. "I was first attracted towards it
+because it looked like a foreign letter, and I saw that it was written
+in Italian. On taking it up, I observed that it was addressed to a Mr.
+Stretton, and I could think of no other Mr. Stretton in the
+neighbourhood but yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to you," Mr. Stretton repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will find the rest of the letter," said Hugo, with rather a
+mocking look in his beautiful eyes. "It is awkward sometimes to drop
+one's correspondence. I need hardly say that it was safe in my
+hands&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of that," said Mr. Stretton, mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"But others might have found it&mdash;and read it. I hope it was not an
+important letter."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," Mr. Stretton answered, recovering himself a little; "but
+the fact is that I had read only the first page or two when I was
+interrupted, and I must have dropped it instead of putting it into my
+pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"That was unfortunate," said Hugo. "I hope it contained no very
+important communication. Good morning, Mr. Stretton; good morning to
+you," he added, with a smile for the children. "I must not interrupt you
+any longer."</p>
+
+<p>He withdrew, with a feeling of contemptuous wonder at the carelessness
+of a man who could lose a letter that he had never read. It was not the
+kind of carelessness that he practised.</p>
+
+<p>He did not leave the house without encountering Mrs. Heron and Kitty. He
+was easily persuaded to stay for a little time. It cost him no effort to
+make himself agreeable. He was like one of those sleek-coated animals of
+the panther tribe, sufficiently tamed or tameable to like caresses; and
+very few people recognised the latent ferocity that lay beneath the
+velvet softness of those dreamy eyes. He could bask in the sunshine like
+a cat; but he was only half-tamed after all.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth distrusted him; Kitty thought her unjust, and therefore acted
+as though she liked him better than she really did. She was a child
+still in her love of mischief, and she soon found a sort of pleasure in
+alternately vexing and pleasing her new admirer. But she was not in
+earnest. What did it matter to her if Hugo Luttrell's eyes glowed when
+she spoke a kind word to him, or his brow grew black as thunder if she
+neglected him for someone else? It never occurred to her to question
+whether it was wise to trifle with passions which might be of truly
+Southern vehemence and intensity.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo did not leave the house without making&mdash;or thinking that he had
+made&mdash;a discovery. Mr. Stretton did not appear at luncheon, but Hugo
+caught sight of him afterwards in the garden&mdash;with Elizabeth. To Hugo's
+mind, the very attitude assumed by the tutor in speaking to Miss Murray
+was a revelation. He was as sure as he was of his own existence that Mr.
+Stretton was "in love." Whether the affection was returned by Miss
+Murray or not he could not feel so sure.</p>
+
+<p>He made his way, after his visit to the Herons, to Mr. Colquhoun's
+office, and was fortunate in finding that gentleman at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Hugo, and how are you?" asked the lawyer, who did not regard Mrs.
+Luttrell's nephew with any particular degree of favour. "What brings you
+to this part of the world again?"</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt's invitation," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes; your aunt has a hankering after anybody of the name of
+Luttrell, at present. It won't last. Don't trust to it, Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say that I know what you mean, Mr. Colquhoun. I suppose I am
+at liberty to accept my aunt's repeated and pressing invitation? I came
+here to ask you a question. I will not trespass on your time longer than
+I can help."</p>
+
+<p>"Ask away, lad," said the old lawyer, not much impressed by Hugo's
+stateliness of demeanour. "Ask away. You'll get no lies, at any rate.
+And what is it you're wanting now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any reason to suppose that my cousin Brian is not dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Colquhoun, shortly. "I haven't. I wish I had. Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Without replying to this question, Hugo asked another.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no reason to think that there is any other man who would call
+himself by that name?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Colquhoun again, "I haven't. And I don't wish I had. But
+have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, come," said the lawyer, restlessly; "you are joking, young
+man. Don't carry a joke too far. What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Hugo replied by a question. "Did you ever hear of a place called
+San Stefano?" he said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Colquhoun bounded in his seat. "Good God!" he said, although he
+was not a man given to the use of such ejaculations. And then he stared
+fixedly at Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think how it has been kept quiet so long," said Hugo,
+tentatively. He was feeling his way. But this remark roused Mr.
+Colquhoun's ire.</p>
+
+<p>"Kept quiet? There was nothing to be kept quiet. Nothing except Mrs.
+Luttrell's own delusion on the subject; nobody wanted it to be known
+that she was as mad as a March hare on the subject. The nurse was as
+honest as the day. I saw her and questioned her myself."</p>
+
+<p>"But my aunt never believed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She never believed Brian to be her son. So much I may tell you without
+any breach of confidence, now that they are both in their graves, poor
+lads!" And then Mr. Colquhoun launched out upon the story of Mrs.
+Luttrell's illness and (so-called) delusion, to all of which Hugo
+listened with serious attention. But at the close of the narrative, the
+lawyer remembered Hugo's opening question. "And how did you come to know
+anything about it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's answer was ready. "I met a queer sort of man in the town this
+morning who was making inquiries that set me on the alert. I got hold of
+him&mdash;walked along the road with him for some distance&mdash;and heard a long
+story. He was a priest, I think&mdash;sent from San Stefano to investigate. I
+got a good deal out of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" said Mr. Colquhoun, slowly. "And where might he be staying, yon
+priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't ask," replied Hugo. "I told him to come to you for information.
+So you can look out. There's something in the wind, I'm sure. I thought
+you might have heard of it. Thank you for your readiness to enlighten
+me, Mr. Colquhoun. I've learnt a good deal to-day. Good morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Now what did he mean by that?" said the lawyer, when he was left alone.
+"It's hard to tell when he's telling the truth and when he's lying just
+for the pleasure of it, so to speak. As for his priest&mdash;I'm not so sure
+that I believe in his priest. I'll send down to the hotel and inquire."</p>
+
+<p>He sent to every hotel in the place, and from every hotel he received
+the same answer. They had no foreign visitor, and had had none for the
+last three weeks. There was apparently not a priest in the place. "It'll
+just be one of Master Hugo's lies," said Mr. Colquhoun, grimly. "There's
+a rod in pickle for that young man one of these days, and I should like
+well to have the applying of it to his shoulders. He's an awful scamp,
+is Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>There was a triumphant smile upon Hugo's face as he rode away from the
+lawyer's office. Twice in that day had his generalship been successful,
+and his success disposed him to think rather meanly of his
+fellow-creatures' intellects. It was surely very easy, and decidedly
+pleasant, to outwit one's neighbours! He had made both Brian and Mr.
+Colquhoun give him information which they would have certainly withheld
+had they known the object for which it had been asked. He was proud of
+his own dexterity.</p>
+
+<p>On his arrival at Netherglen he found that Mrs. Luttrell and Angela had
+gone for a drive. He was glad of it. He wanted a little time to himself
+in Brian's old room. He had already noticed that an old-fashioned
+davenport which stood in this room had never been emptied of its
+contents, and in this davenport he found two or three papers which were
+of service to him. He took them away to his bed-room, where he practised
+a certain kind of handwriting for two or three hours with tolerable
+success. He tried it again after dinner, when everybody was in bed, and
+he tried it again next day. It was rather a difficult hand to imitate
+well, but he was not easily discouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid, dear aunt, that I must run up to town for a day or two,"
+he said to Mrs. Luttrell that evening, with engaging frankness. "I have
+business to transact. But I will be back in three or four days at most,
+if you will permit me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do as you please, Hugo," said Mrs. Luttrell, in her stoniest manner. "I
+have no wish to impose any kind of trammels upon you."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Aunt Margaret, the only trammels that you impose are those of
+love!" said Hugo, in his silkiest undertone.</p>
+
+<p>Angela looked up. For the moment she was puzzled. To her, Hugo's speech
+sounded insincere. But the glance of the eye that she encountered was so
+caressing, the curves of his mouth were so sweetly infantine, that she
+accused herself of harsh judgment, and remembered Hugo's foreign blood
+and Continental training, which had given him the habit, she supposed,
+of saying "pretty things." She could not doubt his sincerity when she
+looked at the peach-like bloom of that oval face, the impenetrable
+softness of those velvet eyes. Hugo's physical beauty always stood him
+in good stead.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an affectionate, warm-hearted boy, I believe, Hugo," said Mrs.
+Luttrell. Then, after a short pause, she added, with no visible link of
+connection, "I have written instructions to Colquhoun. I expect him here
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo looked innocent and attentive, but made no comment. His aunt kissed
+him with more warmth than usual when she said good-night. She had seldom
+kissed her sons after they reached manhood; but she caressed Hugo very
+frequently. She was softer in her manner with him than she had been even
+with Richard.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of yourself in London," she said to him. "Do you want any
+money?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you, Aunt Margaret. I shall be back in three days if I start
+to-morrow&mdash;at least, I think so. I'll telegraph if I am detained."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do so. To-morrow is the seventeenth. You will be back by the
+twentieth?"</p>
+
+<p>"If my business is done," said Hugo. And then he went back to his little
+experiments in caligraphy.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the afternoon of the 18th of August that he found
+himself at the door of No. 14, Tarragon-street. It was a dingy-looking
+house in a dismal-looking street. Hugo shivered a little as he pulled
+the tarnished bell-handle. "How can people live in streets like this?"
+he said to himself, with a slight contemptuous shrug of his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vasari?" he said, interrogatively, as a downcast-looking woman came
+to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. What name, sir, if you please?"</p>
+
+<p>"Say that a gentleman from Scotland wishes to see him."</p>
+
+<p>The woman gave him a keen look, as if she knew something of the errand
+upon which Dino Vasari had come to her house; but said nothing, and
+ushered him at once into a sitting-room on the ground-floor. The room
+was curtained so heavily that it seemed nearly dark. Hugo could not see
+whether it was tenanted by more than one person; of one he was sure,
+because that one person came to meet him with outstretched hands and
+eager words of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Luttrell! You have come, then; you have come&mdash;I knew you would!"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," said Hugo, and at the sound of his voice the first
+speaker fell back amazed; "but I am Hugo Luttrell&mdash;not Brian. I come
+from him."</p>
+
+<p>"A thousand pardons; this English darkness is to blame," said the other,
+in fluent English speech, though with a slightly foreign accent. "Let us
+have lights; then we can know each other. I am&mdash;Dino Vasari."</p>
+
+<p>He said the name with a certain hesitation, as though not sure whether
+or no he ought to call himself by it. The light of a candle fell
+suddenly upon the two faces&mdash;which were turned towards one another in
+some curiosity. The two had a kind of superficial likeness of feature,
+but a total dissimilarity of expression. The subtlety of Hugo's eyes and
+mouth was never shown more clearly than when contrasted with the noble
+gravity that marked every line of Dino's traits. They stood and looked
+at each other for a moment&mdash;Dino, wrapped in admiration; Hugo, lost in a
+thought of dark significance.</p>
+
+<p>"So you are the man!" he was saying to himself. "You call yourself my
+cousin, do you? And you want the Strathleckie and the Luttrell estates?
+Be warned and go back to Italy, my good cousin, while you have time; you
+will never reach Scotland alive, I promise you. I shall kill you first,
+as I should kill a snake lying in my path. Never in your life, Mr. Dino
+Vasari, were you in greater danger than you are just now."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I am Brian Luttrell's cousin," said Hugo, quietly, "and I come from
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you know&mdash;you know&mdash;&mdash;" Dino stammered, and he looked eagerly into
+Hugo's face.</p>
+
+<p>"I know all."</p>
+
+<p>"You know where he is now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do. I have brought you a letter from him&mdash;a sort of introduction,"
+said Hugo, with a faint smile. "I trust that you will find it
+satisfactory."</p>
+
+<p>"No introduction is necessary," was Dino's polite reply. "I have heard
+him speak of you."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's eyes flashed an interrogation. What had Brian said of him? But
+Dino's tones were so courteous, his face so calmly impassive, that Hugo
+was reassured. He bowed slightly, and placed a card and a letter on the
+table. Dino made an apology for opening the letter, and moved away from
+the table whilst he read it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Hugo's face flushed, his hands twitched a little. He
+was actually nervous about the success of his scheme. Suppose Dino were
+to doubt the genuineness of that letter!</p>
+
+<p>It consisted of a few words only, and they were Italian:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dino mio</span>," it began, "the bearer of this letter is my cousin Hugo, who
+knows all the circumstances and will explain to you what are my views. I
+am ill, and cannot come to London. Burn this note.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Brian Luttrell.</span>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Dino read it twice, and then handed it to Hugo, who perused it with as
+profound attention as though he had never seen the document before. When
+he gave it back, he was almost surprised to see Dino take it at once to
+the grate, deposit it amongst the coals, and wait until it was consumed
+to ashes before he spoke. There was a slight sternness of aspect, a
+compression of the lips, and a contraction of the brow, which impressed
+Hugo unfavourably during the performance of this action. It seemed to
+show that Dino Vasari might not be a man so easy to deal with as Brian
+Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>"I have done what I was asked to do," he said, drawing himself up to his
+full height, and turning round with folded arms and darkening brow. "I
+have burnt his letter, and I should now be glad, Mr. Luttrell, to hear
+the views which you were to explain to me."</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin Brian&mdash;&mdash;" began Hugo, with some deliberation; but he was not
+allowed to finish his sentence. Quick as thought, Dino Vasari
+interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, would it not be as well&mdash;under the circumstances&mdash;to speak
+of the gentleman in question as Mr. Stretton?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no objection," he said, "so long as you do not take my calling
+him by that name to be the expression of my opinion concerning the
+subject under consideration."</p>
+
+<p>This was so elaborate a sentence that Dino took some little time to
+consider it.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," he said at last, with a questioning look; "you mean that you
+are not convinced that he is the son of Vincenza Vasari?"</p>
+
+<p>"Neither is he," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"But if we have proof&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vasari, you cannot imagine that my cousin will give up his rights
+without a struggle?"</p>
+
+<p>"But he has given them up," said Dino, vehemently. "He refuses to be
+called by his own name; he has let the estates pass away from him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But he means to claim his rights again," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh." Then there was a long silence. Dino sat down in a chair facing
+that of Hugo, and confronted him steadily. "I understood," he said at
+last, "when I was in Italy, that he had resolved to give up all claim to
+his name, or to his estate. He had disagreeable associations with both.
+He determined to let himself be thought dead, and to earn his own living
+under the name of John Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"He did do so," said Hugo, softly; "but he has changed his mind."</p>
+
+<p>"And why?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I tell you why, may I ask you to keep what I say a profound secret?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino hesitated. Then he said firmly, "I will keep it secret so long as
+he desires me to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then listen. The reason of his change of mind is this. He has fallen in
+love. You will ask&mdash;with whom? With the woman to whom his estate has
+passed&mdash;Miss Murray. He means to marry her, and in that way to get back
+the estate which, by his own mad folly, he has forfeited."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this true?" said Dino, slowly. He fixed his penetrating dark eyes
+upon Hugo as he spoke, and turned a little pale. "And does this
+lady&mdash;this Miss Murray&mdash;know who he is? For I hear that he calls himself
+Stretton in her house. Does she know?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo deliberated a little. "No," he answered, "I am sure that she does
+not."</p>
+
+<p>Dino rose to his feet. "It is impossible," he said, with an indignant
+flash of his dark eyes, which startled Hugo; "Brian would never be so
+base."</p>
+
+<p>"My only wonder is," murmured Hugo, reflectively, "that Brian should be
+so clever."</p>
+
+<p>"You call it clever?" said Dino, still more indignantly. "You call it
+clever to deceive a woman, to marry her for her money, to mislead her
+about one's name? Are these your English fashions? Is it clever to break
+your word, to throw away the love and the help that is offered you, to
+show yourself selfish, and designing, and false? This is what you tell
+me about the man whom you call your cousin, and then you ask me to
+admire his behaviour? Oh, no, I do not admire it. I call it mean, and
+base, and vile. And that is why he would not come to see me himself;
+that is why he sent you as an emissary. He could not look me in the face
+and tell me the things that you have told me!"</p>
+
+<p>He sat down again. The fire died out of his eyes, the hectic colour from
+his cheek. "But I do not believe it!" he said, more sorrowfully than
+angrily; and in a much lower voice; "I do not believe that he means to
+do this thing. He was always good and always true."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo watched him, and spoke after a little pause. "You had his letter,"
+he said. "He told you to believe what I said to you. I could explain his
+views."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but look you, perhaps you do not understand," said Dino, turning
+towards him with renewed vivacity. "It is a hard position, this of mine.
+Ever since I was a little child, it was hinted to me that I had English
+parents, that I did not belong to the Vasari family. When I grew older,
+the whole story of Vincenza's change of the children was told to me, and
+I used to think of the Italian boy who had taken my place, and wonder
+whether he would be sorry to exchange it for mine. I was not sorry; I
+loved my own life in the monastery. I wanted to be a priest. But I
+thought of the boy who bore my name; I wove fancies about him night and
+day; I wished with all my heart to see him. I used to think that the day
+would come when I should say to him&mdash;'Let us know each other; let us
+keep our secret, but love each other nevertheless. You can be Brian
+Luttrell, and I will be Dino Vasari, as long as the world lasts. We will
+not change. But we will be friends.'"</p>
+
+<p>His voice grew husky; he leaned his head upon his hands for a few
+moments, and did not speak. Hugo still watched him curiously. He was
+interested in the revelation of a nature so different from his own;
+interested, but contemptuous of it, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I could dream in this way," said Dino at last, "so long as no land&mdash;no
+money&mdash;was concerned. While Brian Luttrell was the second son the
+exchange of children was, after all, of very little consequence. When
+Richard Luttrell died, the position of things was changed. If he had
+lived, you would never have heard of Vincenza Vasari's dishonesty. The
+priests knew that there would be little to be gained by it. But when he
+died my life became a burden to me, because they were always saying&mdash;'Go
+and claim your inheritance. Go to Scotland and dispossess the man who
+lords it over your lands, and spends your revenues. Take your rights.'"</p>
+
+<p>"And then you met Brian?" said Hugo, as the narrator paused again.</p>
+
+<p>"I met him and I loved him. I was sorry for his unhappiness. He learnt
+the story that I had known for so many years, and it galled him. He
+refused to see the man who really ought to have borne his name. He knew
+me well enough, but he never suspected that I was Mr. Luttrell's son. We
+parted at San Stefano with friendly words; he did not suspect that I was
+leaving the place because I could not bear to see him day by day
+brooding over his grief, and never tell him that I did not wish to take
+his place."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you not tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was ordered to keep silence. The Prior said that he would tell him
+the whole story in good time. They sent me away, and, after a time, I
+heard from Father Cristoforo that he was gone, and had found a tutorship
+in an English family, that he vowed never to bear the name of Luttrell
+any more, and that the way was open for me to claim my own rights, as
+the woman Vincenza Vasari had been found and made confession."</p>
+
+<p>"So you came to England with that object?"</p>
+
+<p>"With the object, first," said Dino, lifting his face from his crossed
+arms, "of seeing him and asking him whether he was resolved to despoil
+himself of his name and fortune. I would not have raised a hand to do
+either, but, if he himself did it, I thought that I might pick up what
+he threw away. Not for myself, but for the Church to which I belong. The
+Church should have it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you give it away?" cried Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"I am to be a monk. A monk has no property," was Dino's answer. "I
+wanted to be sure that he did not repent of his decision before I moved
+a finger."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to have no scruple about despoiling Miss Murray of her goods,"
+said Hugo, drily.</p>
+
+<p>A fresh gleam shot from the young man's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray is a woman," he said, briefly. "She does not need an
+estate. She will marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Marry Brian Luttrell, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"If she marries him as Mr. Stretton, she must take the consequences."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Hugo, "I must confess, Mr. Vasari, that I do not understand
+you. In one breath you say you would not injure Brian by a
+hair's-breadth; in another you propose to leave him and his wife in
+poverty if he marries Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"No, pardon me, you mistake," replied Dino, gently. "I will never injure
+him whom you call, Brian, but if he keeps the name of Stretton I shall
+claim the rights which he has given up. And, when the estate is mine, I
+will give him and his wife what they want; I will give them half, if
+they desire it, but I will have what is my own, first of all, and in
+spite of all."</p>
+
+<p>"You say, in fact, that you will not injure Brian, but that you do not
+care how much you injure Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not it," cried Dino, his dark eye lighting up and his form
+positively trembling with excitement. "I say that, if Brian himself had
+come to me and asked me to spare him, or the woman he loved, for his
+sake I would have yielded and gone back to San Stefano to-morrow; I
+would have destroyed the evidence; I would have given up all, most
+willingly; but when he treats me harshly, coldly&mdash;when he will not, now
+that he knows who I am, make one little journey to see me and tell me
+what he wishes; when he even tries to deceive me, and to deceive this
+lady of whom you speak&mdash;why, then, I stand upon my rights; and I will
+not yield one jot of my claim to the Luttrell estate and the Luttrell
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will fight to the death for it."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo smiled slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"There will be very little fighting necessary, if you have your evidence
+ready. You have it with you, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have copies; the original depositions are with my lawyer."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah. And he is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A Mr. Grattan; there is his address," said Dino, placing a card before
+his visitor. "I suppose that all further business will be transacted
+through him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so. Then you have made your decision?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. One moment, Mr. Luttrell. Excuse me for mentioning it; but you
+have made two statements, one of which seems to me to contradict the
+other." Dino had recovered all his usual coolness, and fixed his keen
+gaze upon Hugo in a way which that young man found a little
+embarrassing. "You told me that Brian&mdash;as we may still call
+him&mdash;intended to claim his old name once more. Then you said that he
+meant to marry Miss Murray under the name of Stretton. You will remark
+that these two intentions are incompatible; he cannot do both these
+things."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo felt that he had blundered.</p>
+
+<p>"I spoke hastily," he said, with an affectation of ingenuous frankness,
+which sat very well upon his youthful face. "I believe that his
+intentions are to preserve the name of Stretton, and to marry Miss
+Murray under it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will tell Mr. Grattan to take the necessary steps to-morrow,"
+said Dino, rising, as if to hint that the interview had now come to an
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo looked at him with surprised, incredulous eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Vasari," he said, naively, "don't let us part on these
+unfriendly terms. Perhaps you will think better of the matter, and more
+kindly of Brian, if we talk it over a little more."</p>
+
+<p>"At the present moment, I think talk will do more harm than good, Mr.
+Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you write yourself to Brian?" faltered Hugo, as if he hardly
+dared to make the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I think not. You will tell him my decision."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I have been a bad ambassador," said Hugo, with an air of
+boyish simplicity, "and that I have offended you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all." Dino held out his hand. "You have spoken very wisely, I
+think. Do not let me lose your esteem if I claim what I believe to be my
+rights."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo sighed. "I suppose we ought to be enemies&mdash;I don't know," he said.
+"I don't like making enemies&mdash;won't you come and dine with me to-night,
+just to show that you do not bear me any malice. I have rooms in town;
+we can be there in a few minutes. Come back with me and have dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Dino tried to evade the invitation. He would much rather have been
+alone; but Hugo would take no denial. The two went out together without
+summoning the landlady: Hugo took his companion by the arm, and walked
+for a little way down the street, then summoned a hansom from the door
+of a public-house, and gave an address which Dino did not hear. They
+drove for some distance. Dino thought that his new friend's lodgings
+were situated in a rather obscure quarter of London; but he made no
+remark in words, for he knew his own ignorance of the world, and he had
+never been in England before. Hugo's lodgings appeared to be on the
+second-floor of a gloomy-looking house, of which the ground-floor was
+occupied by a public bar and refreshment-room. The waiters were German
+or French, and the cookery was distinctly foreign in flavour. There was
+a touch of garlic in every dish, which Dino found acceptable, and which
+was not without its charm for Hugo Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>Dessert was placed upon the table, and with it a flask of some old
+Italian wine, which looked to Dino as if it had come straight from the
+cellars of the monastery at San Stefano. "It is our wine," he said, with
+a smile. "It looks like an old friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that you would appreciate it," said Hugo, with a laugh, as he
+rose and poured the red wine carelessly into Dino's glass. "It is too
+rough for me; but I was sure that you would like it."</p>
+
+<p>He poured out some for himself and raised the glass, but he scarcely
+touched it with his lips. His eyes were fixed upon his guest.</p>
+
+<p>Dino smiled, praised his host's thoughtfulness, and swallowed a mouthful
+or two of the wine; then set down his glass.</p>
+
+<p>"There is something wrong with the flavour," he said: "something a
+little bitter."</p>
+
+<p>"Try it again," said Hugo, averting his eyes. "I thought it very good.
+At any rate, it is harmless: one may drink any amount of it without
+doing oneself an injury."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but this is curiously coarse in flavour," persisted Dino. "One
+would think that it was mixed with some other spirit or cordial. But I
+must try it again."</p>
+
+<p>He drained his glass. Hugo refilled it immediately, but soon perceived
+that it was needless to offer his guest a second draught. Dino raised
+his hand to his brow with a puzzled gesture, and then spoke confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know how it is," he said. "I am quite dizzy&mdash;I cannot
+see&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His eyes grew dim: his hands fell to his sides, and his head upon his
+breast. He muttered a few incoherent words, and then sank into silence,
+broken only by the sound of his heavy breathing and something like an
+occasional groan. Hugo watched him carefully, and smiled to himself now
+and then. In a short time he rose, emptied the remainder of the wine in
+the flask into Dino's glass, rinsed out the flask with clear water, then
+poured the dregs, as well as the wine in the glasses, into the mould of
+a large flower-pot that stood in a corner of the room. "Nobody can tell
+any tales now, I think," said Hugo, with a triumphant, disagreeable
+smile. And then he called the waiter and paid his bill&mdash;as if he were a
+temporary visitor instead of having lodgings in the house, as he had led
+Dino to believe.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter glanced once or twice at the figure on the chair. "Gentleman
+had a leetle moche to drink," he said, nodding towards poor Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"A little too much," said Hugo, carelessly. "He'll be better soon." Then
+he went and shook the young man by the arm. "Come," he said, "it's time
+for us to go. Wake up; I'll see you home. That wine was a little too
+strong for you, was it not?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino opened his eyes, half-rose, muttered something, and then sank back
+in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentleman want a cab, perhaps?" said the waiter.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, I don't know," said Hugo, looking quite puzzled and
+distressed. "If he can't walk we must have a cab; but if he can, I'd
+rather not; his lodgings are not far from here. Come, Jack, can't you
+try?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino, addressed as Jack for the edification of the waiter, rose, and
+with Hugo's help staggered a few steps. Hugo was somewhat disconcerted.
+He had not counted upon Dino's small experience of intoxicating liquors
+when he prepared that beverage for him beforehand. He had meant Dino to
+be wild and noisy: and, behold, he presented all the appearance of a man
+who was dead drunk, and could hardly walk or stand.</p>
+
+<p>They managed to get him downstairs, and there, revived by the fresh air,
+he seemed able to walk to the lodgings which, as Hugo said, were close
+at hand. The landlord and the waiters laughed to each other when the two
+gentlemen were out of sight. "He must have taken a good deal to make him
+like that," said one of them. "The other was sober enough. Who were
+they?" The landlord shook his head. "Never saw either of them before
+yesterday," he said. "They paid, at any rate: I wish all my customers
+did as much." And he went back to the little parlour which he had
+quitted for a few moments in order to observe the departure of the
+gentleman who had got so drunk upon a flask of heady Italian wine.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Hugo was leading his victim through a labyrinth of dark
+streets and lanes. Dino was hard to conduct in this manner; he leaned
+heavily upon his guide, he staggered at times, and nearly fell. The
+night was dark and foggy; more than once Hugo almost lost his bearings
+and turned in a wrong direction. But he had a reason for all the devious
+windings and turnings which he took; he was afraid of being spied upon,
+followed, tracked. It was not until he came at last to a dark lane,
+between rows of warehouses, where not a light twinkled in the rooms, nor
+a solitary pedestrian loitered about the pavement, that he seemed
+inclined to pause. "This is the place," he said to himself, tightening
+his grasp upon the young man's arm. "This is the place I chose."</p>
+
+<p>He led Dino down the lane, looking carefully about him until he came to
+a narrow archway on his left hand. This archway opened on a flagged
+passage, at the end of which a flight of steps led up to one of the
+empty warehouses. It was a lonely, deserted spot.</p>
+
+<p>He dragged his companion into this entry; the steps of the two men
+echoed upon the flags for a little way, and then were still. There was
+the sound of a fall, a groan, then silence. And after five minutes of
+that silence, Hugo Luttrell crept slowly back to the lane, and stood
+there alone. He cast one fearful glance around him: nobody was in sight,
+nobody seemed to have heard the sounds that he had heard. With a quick
+step and resolute mien he plunged again into the network of little
+streets, reached a crowded thoroughfare at last, and took a cab for the
+Strand. He had a ticket for a theatre in his pocket. He went to the
+theatre.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>BRIAN'S WELCOME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The hint given in the Prior's letter concerning Brian's reasons for
+continuing to teach in the Heron family, together with Hugo's own
+quickness of perception, had enabled that astute young man to hit upon
+something very like the exact truth. He had exaggerated it in his
+conversation with Dino: he had attributed motives to Brian which
+certainly never entered Brian's mind; but this was done for his own
+purposes. He thought that Brian's love for Elizabeth Murray might prove
+a useful weapon in the struggle between Dino's sense of his rights and
+the romantic affection that he entertained for the man who had taken his
+place in the world&mdash;an affection which Hugo understood so little and
+despised so much, that he fancied himself sure of an easy victory over
+Dino's resolution to fight for his rightful position. It was greatly to
+his surprise that he found so keen a sense of justice and resentment at
+the little trust that Brian had reposed in him present in Dino's mind:
+the young man had been irritatingly firm in his determination to possess
+the Strathleckie estate; he knew precisely what he wanted, and what he
+meant to do. And although he was inclined to be generous to Brian and to
+Miss Murray, there seemed no reason to expect that he would be equally
+generous to Hugo. Therefore Hugo had felt himself obliged to use what he
+called "strong measures."</p>
+
+<p>He did not like strong measures. They were disagreeable to him. But they
+were less disagreeable than the thought of being poor. Hugo made little
+account of human life and human suffering so long as the suffering did
+not actually touch himself. He seemed to be born with as little heart as
+a beast of prey, which strikes when it is angry, or when it wants food,
+with no remorse and no regret. "A disagreeable necessity," Hugo called
+his evil deed, but he considered that the law of self-preservation
+justified him in what he did.</p>
+
+<p>And Brian Luttrell? What reason was it that made him fling prudence to
+the winds, and follow the Herons to the neighbourhood of a place where
+he had resolved never to show his face again?</p>
+
+<p>There was one great, overmastering reason&mdash;so great that it made him
+attempt what was well-nigh impossible. His love for Elizabeth Murray had
+taken full possession of him: he dreamed of her, he worshipped the very
+ground she trod upon; he would have sacrificed life itself for the
+chance of a gentle word from her.</p>
+
+<p>Life, but not honour. Much as he loved her, he would have fled to the
+very ends of the earth if he had known, if he had for one moment
+suspected, that she was the Miss Murray who owned the landed estate
+which once went with the house and grounds of Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed almost incredible that he should not have had this fact forced
+from the first upon his knowledge; but such at present was the case.
+They had remained in Italy for the first three months of his engagement,
+and, during that time, he had not lived in the Villa Venturi, but simply
+given his lessons and taken his departure. Sometimes he breakfasted or
+lunched with the family party, but at such times no business affairs
+were discussed. And Elizabeth had made it a special request that Mr.
+Stretton should not be informed of the fact that it was she who
+furnished money for the expenses of the household. She had taken care
+that his salary should be as large as she could make it without
+attracting remark, but she had an impression that Mr. Stretton would
+rather be paid by Mr. Heron than by her. And, as she wished for silence
+on the subject of her lately-inherited wealth, and as the Herons were of
+that peculiarly happy-go-lucky disposition that did not consider the
+possession of wealth a very important circumstance, Mr. Stretton passed
+the time of his sojourn in Italy in utter ignorance of the fact that
+Elizabeth was the provider of villa, gardens, servants, and most of the
+other luxuries with which the Herons were well supplied. Percival, in
+his outspoken dislike of the arrangement, would probably have
+enlightened him if they had been on friendly terms; but Percival showed
+so decided and unmistakable an aversion to the tutor, that he scarcely
+spoke to him during his stay, and, indeed, made his visit a short one,
+chiefly on account of Mr. Stretton's presence.</p>
+
+<p>The change from Italy to Scotland was made at the doctor's suggestion.
+The children's health flagged a little in the heat, and it was thought
+better that they should try a more bracing air. When the matter was
+decided, and Mr. Colquhoun had written to them that Strathleckie was
+vacant, and would be a convenient house for Miss Murray's purposes in
+all respects&mdash;then, and not till then, was Mr. Stretton informed of the
+proposed change of residence, and asked whether he would accompany the
+family to Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>Brian hesitated. He knew well enough the exact locality of the house to
+which they were going: he had visited it himself in other days. But it
+was several miles from Netherglen: he would be allowed, he knew, to
+absent himself from the drawing-room or the dinner-table whenever he
+chose, he need not come in contact with the people whom he used to know.
+Besides, he was changed beyond recognition. And probably the two women
+at Netherglen led so retired a life that neither of them was likely to
+be encountered&mdash;not even at church; for, although the tenants of
+Netherglen and Strathleckie went to the same town for divine worship on
+Sunday mornings, yet Mrs. Luttrell and Angela attended the Established
+Church, while the Herons were certain to go to the Episcopal. And Hugo
+was away. There was really small chance of his being seen or recognised.
+He thought that he should be safe. And, while he still hesitated, he
+looked up and saw that the eyes of Miss Murray were bent upon him with
+so kindly an inquiry, so gracious a friendliness in their blue depths,
+that his fears and doubts suddenly took wing, and he thought of nothing
+but that he should still be with her.</p>
+
+<p>He consented. And then, for the first time, it crossed his mind to
+wonder whether she was a connection of the Murrays to whom his estate
+had passed, and from whom he believed that Mr. Heron was renting the
+Strathleckie house.</p>
+
+<p>He had left England without ascertaining what members of the Murray
+family were living; and the letter in which Mr. Colquhoun detailed the
+facts of Elizabeth's existence and circumstances, had reached Geneva
+after his departure upon the expedition which was supposed to have
+resulted in his death. He had never heard of the Herons. He imagined
+Gordon Murray to be still living&mdash;probably with a large family and a
+wife. He knew that they could not live at Netherglen, and he wondered
+vaguely whether he should meet them in the neighbourhood to which he was
+going. Murray was such an ordinary name that in itself it told him
+nothing at all. Elizabeth Murray! Why, there might be a dozen Elizabeth
+Murrays within twenty miles of Netherglen: there was no reason at all to
+suppose that this Elizabeth Murray was a connection of the Gordon
+Murrays who were cousins of his own&mdash;no, not of his own: he had
+forgotten that never more could he claim that relationship for himself.
+They were cousins of some unknown Brian Luttrell, brought up under a
+false name in a small Italian village. What had become of that true
+Brian, whom he had refused to meet at San Stefano? And had Father
+Cristoforo succeeded in finding the woman whom he sought, and supplying
+the missing links in the evidence? In that case, the Murrays would soon
+hear of the claimant to their estate, and there would be a law-suit.
+Brian began to feel interested in the matter again. He had lost all care
+for it in the period following upon his illness. He now foresaw, with
+something almost like pleasure, that he could easily obtain information
+about the Murrays if he went with the Herons to Strathleckie. And he
+should certainly take the first opportunity of making inquiries. Even if
+he himself were no Luttrell, there was no reason why he should not take
+the deepest interest in the Luttrells of Netherglen. He wanted
+particularly to know whether the Italian claimant had come forward.</p>
+
+<p>He was perfectly ignorant of the fact of which Father Cristoforo's
+letter would have informed him, that this possible Italian claimant was
+no other than his friend, Dino Vasari.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, he could not be long at Strathleckie without finding out the
+truth about Elizabeth. If he had lived much with the Herons, he would
+have found it out in the course of the first twenty-four hours.
+Elizabeth's property was naturally referred to by name: the visitors who
+came to the house called upon her rather than upon the Herons: it was
+quite impossible that the secrecy upon which Elizabeth had insisted in
+Italy could be maintained in Scotland. The only wonder was that he
+should live, as he did live, for five whole days at Strathleckie without
+discovering the truth. Perhaps Elizabeth took pains to keep it from him!</p>
+
+<p>She had been determined to keep another secret, even if she could not
+hide the fact, that she was a rich woman. She would not have her
+engagement to Percival made public. For two whole years, she said, she
+would wait: for two whole years neither she nor her cousin should
+consider each other as bound. But that she herself considered the
+engagement morally binding might be inferred from the fact of her
+allowing Percival to kiss her&mdash;she surely would not have permitted that
+kiss if she had not meant to marry him! So Percival himself understood
+it; so Elizabeth knew that he understood.</p>
+
+<p>She was not quite like herself in the first days of her residence in
+Scotland. She was graver and more reticent than usual: little inclined
+to talk, and much occupied with the business that her new position
+entailed upon her. Mr. Colquhoun, her solicitor, was astonished at her
+clear-headedness; Stewart, the factor, was amazed at the attention she
+bestowed upon every detail; even the Herons were surprised at the
+methodical way in which she parcelled out her days and devoted herself
+to a full understanding of her position. She seemed to shrink less than
+heretofore from the responsibilities that wealth would bring her, and
+perhaps the added seriousness of her lip and brow was due to her resolve
+to bear the burden that providence meant her to bear instead of trying
+to lay it upon other people's shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>A great deal of this necessary business had been transacted before Mr.
+Stretton made his appearance at Strathleckie. He had been offered a
+fortnight's holiday, and had accepted it, seeing that his absence was to
+some extent desired by Mrs. Heron, who was always afraid lest her dear
+children should be overworked by their tutor. Thus it happened that he
+did not reach Strathleckie until the very day on which Hugo also arrived
+on his way to Netherglen. They had seen each other at the station, where
+Brian incautiously appeared without the blue spectacles which he relied
+upon as part of his disguise. From the white, startled horror which
+overcast Hugo's face, this young man saw that he had been almost, if not
+quite, recognised; and he expected to be sought out and questioned as to
+his identity. But Hugo made no effort to question him: in fact, he did
+not see the tutor again until the day when he came to restore a fragment
+of the letter which Brian had carelessly dropped in the road before he
+read it. During this interview he betrayed no suspicion, and Brian
+comforted himself with the thought that Hugo had, at any rate, not read
+the sheet that he returned to him.</p>
+
+<p>A dog-cart was sent for him and his luggage on the day of his arrival.
+He had a five miles' drive before he reached Strathleckie, where he
+received a tumultuous welcome from the boys, a smiling one from Mrs.
+Heron and Kitty, a hearty shake of the hands from Mr. Heron. But where
+was Elizabeth? He did not dare to ask.</p>
+
+<p>She was out, he learnt afterwards: she had driven over to the town to
+lunch with the Colquhouns. For a moment he did think this strange; then
+he put aside the thought and remembered it no more.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long afternoon to be dragged through: then there was a
+school-room tea, nominally at six, really not until nearly seven,
+according to the lax and unpunctual fashion of the Heron family. Mr.
+Stretton had heard that there were to be guests at dinner, and, keeping
+up his character as a shy man, declined to be present. He was sitting in
+a great arm-chair by the cheerful, little fire, which was very
+acceptable even on an August evening: the clock on the mantelpiece had
+just chimed a quarter-past seven, and he was beginning to wonder where
+the boys could possibly be, when the door opened and Elizabeth came in.
+He rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"They told me that you had come," she said, extending her hand to him
+with quiet friendliness. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mr.
+Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"Very pleasant, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>He could not say more: he was engaged in devouring with his eyes every
+feature of her fair face, and thinking in his heart that he had
+underrated the power of her beauty. In the fortnight that he had been
+away from her he had pictured her to himself as not half so fair. She
+had taken off her out-door things, and was dressed in a very plain,
+brown gown, which fitted closely to her figure. At her throat she wore a
+little bunch of sweet autumn violets, with one little green leaf,
+fastened into her dress by a gold brooch. It was the very ostentation of
+simplicity, yet, with that noble carriage of her head and shoulders, and
+those massive coils of golden-brown hair, nobody could have failed to
+remark the distinction of her appearance, nor to recognise the fact that
+there is a kind of beauty which needs no ornament.</p>
+
+<p>Brian took off the ugly, blue spectacles which he had adopted of late,
+and laid them upon the mantelshelf. He did not need them in the
+flickering firelight, which alone illumined the dimness of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth laid her shapely arm upon the mantelpiece and looked into the
+fire. He stood beside her, looking down at her&mdash;for he was a little
+taller than herself&mdash;but she seemed unconscious of his gaze. She spoke
+presently in rather low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"The boys are late. I hope they do not often keep you waiting in this
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"They have never done it before. I do not mind."</p>
+
+<p>"They were very anxious to have you back. They missed you very much."</p>
+
+<p>Had she missed him, too? He could not venture to ask that question.</p>
+
+<p>"You will find things changed," she went on, restlessly lifting a little
+vase upon the mantelpiece and setting it down again; "you will find us
+much busier than we used to be&mdash;much more absorbed in our own pursuits.
+Scotland is not like Italy."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I wish it were."</p>
+
+<p>"And I&mdash;&mdash;" Her voice broke, as if some emotion troubled her; there came
+a swift, short sigh, and then she spoke more calmly. "I wish sometimes
+that one had no duties, no responsibilities; but life would not be worth
+having if one shirked them, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a charm in life without them&mdash;at least, so far without them as
+that pleasant life in Italy used to be," said he, rather eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but that is all over."</p>
+
+<p>"All over?"</p>
+
+<p>She bowed her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there nothing left?" said Brian, approaching her a little more
+nearly. Then, as she was silent, he continued in a hurried, low voice,
+"I knew that life must be different here, but I thought that some of the
+pleasantest hours might be repeated&mdash;even in Scotland&mdash;although we are
+without those sunny skies and groves of orange trees. Even if the clouds
+are grey, and the winds howl without, we might still read Dante's
+'Paradiso' and Petrarca's 'Sonnets,' as we used to do at the Villa
+Venturi."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Elizabeth, gently, "we might. But here I shall not have
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Why should you sacrifice yourself for others in the way you
+do? It is not right."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;sacrifice myself?" she said, lifting her eyes for a moment to his
+face. "What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," he said, "that I have watched you for the last three months,
+and I have seen you day after day give up your own pleasure and your own
+profit for others, until I longed to ask them what right they had to
+claim your whole life and leave you nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;for yourself&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You mistake," she interrupted him quickly. "They leave me all I want;
+and they were kind to me when I came amongst them&mdash;a penniless
+child&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter if you were penniless?" said Brian. "Have you not
+paid them a thousand times for all that they did for you?" Then, as she
+looked at him with rather a singular expression in her eyes, he hastened
+to explain. "I mean that you have given them your love, your care, your
+time, in a way that no sister, no daughter, ever could have done! You
+have taught the children all they know; you have sympathised with the
+cares of every one in turn&mdash;I have watched you and seen it day by day!
+And I say that even if you are penniless, as you say, you have repaid
+them a thousand times for all that they have done; and that you are
+wrong to let them take your time and your care, to the exclusion of your
+own interests. I beg your pardon; I have said too much," he said,
+breaking off suddenly, as the singular expression deepened upon her
+musing face.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, with a smile, "I like to hear it: go on. What ought I to
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that I cannot tell you. But I think you give yourself almost too
+much to others. Surely, no one could object if you took a little time
+from the interests of the rest of the family for your own pleasure, for
+your studies, your amusements?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered, quietly, "I do not suppose they would."</p>
+
+<p>She stood and looked into the fire, and the smile again crossed her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"I have said more than I ought to have done," repeated Brian. "Forgive
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I will forgive you for everything," she said, "except for thinking that
+one can do too much for the people that one loves. I am sure that you do
+not act upon that principle, Mr. Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"It can be carried to an extreme, like any other," said Mr. Stretton,
+wisely.</p>
+
+<p>"And you think I carry it to an extreme? Oh, no. I only do what it is a
+pleasure to me to do. Think of the situation: an orphaned, penniless
+girl&mdash;that is what you have said to yourself is it not&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Brian, wondering a little at the keen inquiry in her eyes as
+she paused for the reply. The questioning look was lost in a lovely
+smile as she proceeded; she cast down her eyes to hide the expression of
+pleasure and amusement that his words had caused.</p>
+
+<p>"An orphaned, penniless girl, then, cast on the charity of friends who
+were then not very well able to support her, educated by them, loved by
+them&mdash;does she not owe them a great debt, Mr. Stretton? What would have
+become of me without my uncle's care? And, now that I am able to repay
+them a little&mdash;in various ways"&mdash;she hesitated as she spoke&mdash;"ought I
+not to do my best to please them? Ought I not to give them as much of
+myself as they want? Make a generous answer, and tell me that I am
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"You are always right&mdash;too right!" he said, half-impatiently. "If you
+could be a little less generous&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What then?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, you would be&mdash;more human, perhaps, more like ourselves&mdash;but
+less than what we have always taken you for," said Mr. Stretton,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth laughed. "You have spoilt the effect of your lecture," she
+said, turning away.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I ought not to have said what I did," said Brian,
+sensitively alive to her slightest change of tone. "Miss Murray, tell me
+at least that I have not offended you before you go."</p>
+
+<p>"You have not offended me," she said. He could not see her face.</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite sure?" he said, anxiously. "For, indeed, I had forgotten
+that it was not my part to offer any opinion upon your conduct, and I am
+afraid that I have given it with impertinent bluntness. You will forgive
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned round and looked at him with a smile. There was a colour in
+her cheek, a softness in her eye, that he did not often see. "Indeed,
+Mr. Stretton," she said, gently, "I have nothing to forgive. I am very
+much obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>He took a step towards her as if there was something else that he would
+have gladly said; but at that moment the sound of the boys' voices
+echoed through the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no time for more," said Brian, with some annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered. "And yet I have something else to say to you. Will
+you remember that some other day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I shall remember," he said, fervently. And then the boys burst
+into the room, and in the hubbub of their arrival Elizabeth escaped.</p>
+
+<p>Her violets had fallen out of her brooch. Brian found them upon the
+floor when she had gone; henceforth he kept them amongst his treasures.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WISHING WELL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugo's first call at Strathleckie was made on the day following Mr.
+Stretton's arrival. Father Cristoforo's letter had been delivered by
+that morning's post, and it was during a stroll, in which, to tell the
+truth, Brian was more absorbed by the thought of Elizabeth than by any
+remembrance of his own position or of the Prior's views, that he dropped
+the letter of which the contents had so important a bearing on his
+future life. In justice to Brian, it must be urged that he had no idea
+that the Prior's letter was likely to be of any importance. Ever since
+he left San Stefano, the Prior had corresponded with him; but his
+letters were generally on very trivial subjects, or filled with advice
+upon moral and doctrinal points, which Brian could not find interesting.
+The severe animadversions upon his folly in returning to Scotland under
+an assumed name, which filled the first sheet, did not rouse in him any
+lively desire to read the rest of the letter. It was not likely to
+contain anything that he ought to know; and, at any rate, he could
+explain the loss and apologise for it in his next note to Padre
+Cristoforo.</p>
+
+<p>The meeting between him and Elizabeth in the garden, which had been such
+a revelation to Hugo's mind, was purely accidental and led to no great
+result. She had been begged by the children to ask Mr. Stretton for a
+holiday. They wanted to go to a Wishing Well in the neighbourhood, and
+to have a picnic in honour of Kitty's birthday. Mr. Stretton was sure
+not to refuse them they said&mdash;if Elizabeth asked. And Mr. Stretton did
+not refuse.</p>
+
+<p>His love for Elizabeth&mdash;that love which had sprung into being almost as
+soon as he beheld her, and which had grown with every hour spent in her
+company&mdash;was one of those deep and overmastering passions which a man
+can feel but once in a lifetime, and which many men never feel at all.
+If Brian had lived his life in London and at Netherglen with no great
+shock, no terrible grief, no overthrow of all his hopes, he might not
+have experienced this glow and thrill of passionate emotion; he might
+have walked quietly into love, made a suitable marriage, and remained
+ignorant to his life's end of the capabilities for emotion which existed
+within him. But, as often happens immediately after the occurrence of a
+great sorrow or recovery from a serious illness, his whole being seemed
+to undergo a change. When the strain of anxiety and prolonged anguish of
+mind was relaxed, the claims of youth re-asserted themselves. With
+returning health and strength there came an almost passionate
+determination to enjoy as much as remained to be enjoyed in life. The
+sunshine, the wind, the sea, the common objects of Nature,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To him were opening Paradise."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And when, for the first time, Love also entered into his life, the world
+seemed to be transfigured. Although he had suffered much and lost much,
+he found it possible to dream of a future in which he might make for
+himself a home, and know once more the meaning of happiness. Was he
+selfish in hoping that life still contained a true joy for him, in spite
+of the sorrows that fate had heaped upon his head, as if she meant to
+overwhelm him altogether? At least, the hope was a natural one, and
+showed courage and resolution. He clung to it desperately, fiercely; he
+felt that after all he had lost he could not bear to let it go. The hope
+was too sweet&mdash;the chance of happiness too beautiful&mdash;to be lost. He
+felt as if he had a right to this one blessing. He had lost all beside.
+But, perhaps, this was a presumptuous mood, destined to rebuke and
+disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth day after his arrival dawned, and he had not yet perceived,
+in his blindness of heart, the difference of position between the
+Elizabeth of his dreams and the Elizabeth of reality. Could the crisis
+be averted very much longer?</p>
+
+<p>He fancied that Elizabeth was colder to him after that little scene in
+the study than she had ever been before. She looked pale and dispirited,
+and seemed to avoid speaking to him or meeting his eye. At
+breakfast-time that morning he noticed that she allowed a letter that
+had been brought to her to lie unopened beside her plate "It's from
+Percival, isn't it?" said Kitty, thoughtlessly. "You don't seem to be
+very anxious to read it." Elizabeth made no answer, but the colour rose
+to her cheek and then spread to the very roots of her golden-brown hair.
+Brian noticed the blush, and for the first time felt his heart contract
+with a bitter pang of jealousy. What right had Percival Heron to write
+letters to Elizabeth? Why did she blush when she was asked a question
+about a letter from him?</p>
+
+<p>The whole party set off soon after ten o'clock for an expedition to a
+little loch amongst the hills. They intended to lunch beside the loch,
+then to enjoy themselves in different ways: Mr. Heron meant to sketch;
+Mrs. Heron took a novel to read; the others proposed to visit a spring
+at some little distance known as "The Wishing Well." This programme was
+satisfactorily carried out; but it chanced that Kitty and the boys
+reached the well before the others, and then wandered away to reach a
+further height, so that Brian and Elizabeth found themselves alone
+together beside the Wishing Well.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lonely spot from which nothing but stretches of barren moor and
+rugged hills could be discerned. One solitary patch of verdure marked
+the place where the rising spring had fertilised the land; but around
+this patch of green the ground was rich only in purple heather. Not even
+a hardy pine or fir tree broke the monotony of the horizon. Yet, the
+scene was not without its charm. There was grandeur in the sweep of the
+mountain-lines; there was a wonderful stillness in the sunny air, broken
+only by the buzz of a wandering bee and the trickle of the stream; there
+was the great arch of blue above the moor, and the magical tints of
+purple and red that blossoming heather always brings out upon the
+mountain-sides. The bareness of the land was forgotten in its wealth of
+colouring; and perhaps Brian and Elizabeth were not wrong when they said
+to each other that Italy had never shown them a scene that was half so
+fair.</p>
+
+<p>The water of the spring fell into a carved stone basin, which, tradition
+said, had once been the font of an old Roman Catholic chapel, of which
+only a few scattered stones remained. People from the surrounding
+districts still believed in the efficacy of its waters for the cure of
+certain diseases; and the practice of "wishing," which gave the well its
+name, was resorted to in sober earnest by many a village boy and girl.
+Elizabeth and Brian, who had hitherto behaved in a curiously grave and
+reserved manner to each other, laughed a little as they stood beside the
+spring and spoke of the superstition.</p>
+
+<p>"We must try it," said Elizabeth, looking down into the sparkling water.
+"A crooked pin must be thrown in, and then we must silently wish for
+anything we especially desire, and, of course, we shall obtain it."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite worth trying, if that is the case," said Brian. "But&mdash;I have
+tried the experiment before."</p>
+
+<p>"Here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, here."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know that you had been to Dunmuir before."</p>
+
+<p>"My wish did not come to pass," remarked Brian; "but there is no reason
+why you should not be more successful than I was, Miss Murray. And I
+feel a certain sort of desire to try once again."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is a crooked pin," said Elizabeth. "Drop it into the water."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to try?" he asked, when the ceremony had been performed.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing that I wish for very greatly."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing? Ah, I have one wish&mdash;only one."</p>
+
+<p>"I am unfortunate in that I have none," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Then give me the benefit of your wishes. Wish that my wish may be
+fulfilled," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, and threw a crooked pin into
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>"I have wished," she said, as she watched it sink, "but I must not say
+what I wish: that breaks the charm."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down and rest," said Brian, persuasively, as she turned away.
+"There is a little shade here; and the others will no doubt join us
+by-and-bye. You must be tired."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not tired, but I will sit down for a little while," said
+Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself on a stone beside the well; and Brian also sat down,
+but rather below her, so that he seemed to be sitting at her feet, and
+could look up into her face when he spoke. He kept silence at first, but
+said at last, with gentle deference of tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray, there was something that you said you would tell me when
+you had the opportunity."</p>
+
+<p>She paused before she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Not just now," he understood her to say at last, but her words were low
+and indistinct.</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;may I tell you something?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke more clearly in reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I think not."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me for saying so, but you must hear it some time. Why not now?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak. Her colour varied a little, and her brows contracted
+with a slight look of pain.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know how to be silent any longer," he said, raising his eyes
+to her face, with a grave and manly resolve in their brown depths. "I
+have thought a great deal about it&mdash;about you; and it seems to me that
+there is no real reason why I should not speak. You are of age; you can
+do as you please; and I could work for both&mdash;because&mdash;Elizabeth&mdash;I love
+you."</p>
+
+<p>It was brokenly, awkwardly said, after all; but more completely uttered,
+perhaps, than if he had told his tale at greater length, for then he
+would have been stopped before he reached the end. As it was,
+Elizabeth's look of terror and dismay brought him to a sudden pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" she said, "no; you don't mean that. Take back what you have
+said, Mr. Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot take it back," he said, quickly, "and I would not if I could;
+because you love me, too."</p>
+
+<p>The conviction of his words made her turn pale. She darted a distressed
+look at him, half-rose from her seat, and then sat down again. Twice she
+tried to speak and failed, for her tongue clove to the roof of her
+mouth. But at last she found her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know," she said, hurriedly and hoarsely, "that I am engaged
+to my cousin Percival."</p>
+
+<p>He rose to his feet, and withdrew two or three paces, looking down on
+her in silent consternation. She did not lift her eyes, but she felt
+that his gaze was upon her. It seemed to pierce to the very marrow of
+her bones, to the bottom of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this true?" he said at last, in a voice as changed as her own had
+been&mdash;hoarse and broken almost beyond recognition. "And you never told
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I have told you? Only my uncle knows. It was a secret," she
+answered, in a clearer and colder tone. "I am sorry you did not know."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I. God knows that I am sorry," said the young man, turning away
+to hide the look of bitter despair and disappointment, which he could
+not help but feel was too visibly imprinted on his face. "For if I had
+known, I might never have dared to love you. If I had known, I should
+never have dreamt of you as my wife."</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of these two words, a shiver ran through her frame, as if a
+cold wind had blown over her from the mountain-heights above. She did
+not speak, however, and Brian went on in the low, difficult voice which
+told the intensity of his feelings more clearly than his words.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been blind&mdash;mad, perhaps&mdash;but I thought that there was a hope
+for me. I fancied that you cared for me a little, that you guessed what
+I felt&mdash;that you, perhaps, felt it also. Oh, you need not tell me that I
+have been presumptuous. I see it now. But it was my one hope in life&mdash;I
+had nothing left; and I loved you."</p>
+
+<p>His voice sank; he still stood with his face averted; a bitter silence
+fell upon him. For the moment he thought of the many losses and sorrows
+that he had experienced, and it seemed to him that this was the
+bitterest one of all. Elizabeth sat like a statue; her face was pale,
+her under-lip bitten, her hands tightly clasped together. At the end of
+some minutes' silence she roused herself to speak. There was an accent
+of hurt pride in her voice, but there was a tremor, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave you no reason to think so, Mr. Stretton," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, still without turning round. "I see now; I made a
+mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"That you should ever have made the mistake," said Elizabeth, slowly,
+"seems to me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She did not finish the sentence. She spoke so slowly that Brian found it
+easy to interrupt her. He turned and broke impetuously into the middle
+of her phrase.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems an insult&mdash;I understand. But I do not mean it as an insult. I
+mean it only as a tribute to your exquisite goodness, your sweetness,
+which would not let me pass upon my way without a word of kindly
+greeting&mdash;and yet what can I say, for I did not misunderstand that
+kindliness. I was not such a fool as to do that! No, I never really
+hoped; I never thought that you could for a moment look at me; believe
+me when I say that, even in my wildest dreams, I knew myself to be far,
+infinitely far, below you, utterly unworthy of your love, Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she murmured, "you must not say that."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do say it, and I mean it. I only ask to be forgiven for that wild
+dream&mdash;it lasted but for a moment, and there was nothing in it that
+could have offended even you, I think; nothing but the love itself. And
+I believe in a man's right to love the woman who is the best, the most
+beautiful, the noblest on earth for him, even if she were the Queen
+herself! If you think that I hoped where I ought to have despaired,
+forgive me; but don't say you forgive me for merely loving you; I had
+the right, to do that."</p>
+
+<p>She altered her attitude as he spoke. Her hands were now before her
+face, and he saw that the tears were trickling between her fingers. All
+the generosity of the man's nature was stirred at the sight.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry that I have distressed you," he said. "I am sorry that
+I spoke so roughly&mdash;so hastily&mdash;at first. Trust me when I say that I
+will not offend in the same way again."</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her face a little, and tried to wipe away her tears. "I am
+not offended, Mr. Stretton," she said. "You mistake me&mdash;I am only
+sorry&mdash;deeply sorry&mdash;that I&mdash;if I&mdash;have misled you in any way."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you did not mislead me, Miss Murray," replied Brian, gently; "it
+was my own folly that was to blame. But since I have spoken, may I say
+something more? I should like, if possible, to justify myself a little
+in your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>She bowed her head. "Will you not sit down?" she said, softly. "Say what
+you like; or, at least, what you think best."</p>
+
+<p>He did not sit down exactly, but he came back to the stone on which he
+had been sitting at her feet, and dropped on one knee upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me speak to you in this way, as a culprit should speak," he said,
+with a faint smile which had in it a gleam of some slightly ironical
+feeling, "and then you can pardon or condemn me as you choose."</p>
+
+<p>"If you feel like a culprit you condemn yourself," said Elizabeth,
+lifting her eyes to his.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not feel like a culprit, Miss Murray. I have, as I said before, a
+perfect right to love you if I choose&mdash;&mdash;" Elizabeth's eyes fell, and
+the colour stole into her cheeks&mdash;"I would maintain that right against
+all the world. But I want you to be merciful: I want you to listen for a
+little while&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to anything that I ought not to hear, Mr. Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"No: to nothing that would wrong Mr. Percival Heron even by a thought.
+Only&mdash;it is a selfish wish of mine; but I have been misjudged a good
+deal in my life, and I do not want you to misjudge me&mdash;I should like you
+to understand how it was that I dared&mdash;yes, I dared&mdash;to love you. May I
+speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I ought to listen. I think I ought to go," said
+Elizabeth, with an irrepressible little sob. "No, do not speak&mdash;I cannot
+bear it."</p>
+
+<p>"But in justice to me you ought to listen," said Brian, gently, and yet
+firmly. He laid one hand upon hers, and prevented her from rising. "A
+few words only," he said, in pleading tones. "Forgive me if I say I must
+go on. Forgive me if I say you must listen. It is for the last&mdash;and the
+only&mdash;time."</p>
+
+<p>With a great sigh she sank back upon the stone seat from which she had
+tried to rise. Brian still held her hand. She did not draw it away. The
+lines of her face were all soft and relaxed; her usual clearness of
+purpose had deserted her. She did not know what to do.</p>
+
+<p>"If you had loved me, Elizabeth&mdash;let me call you Elizabeth just for
+once; I will not ask to do it again&mdash;or if you had even been free&mdash;I
+would have told you my whole history from beginning to end, and let you
+judge how far I was justified in taking another name and living the life
+I do. But I won't lay that burden upon you now. It would not be fair. I
+think that you would have agreed with me&mdash;but it is not worth while to
+tell you now."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that you would not have acted as you did without a good and
+honourable motive," said Elizabeth, trembling, though she did not know
+why.</p>
+
+<p>"I acted more on impulse than on principle, I am afraid,", he answered.
+"I was in great trouble, and it seemed easier&mdash;but I saw no reason
+afterwards to change my decision. Elizabeth, my friends think me dead,
+and I want them to think so still. I had been accused of a crime which I
+did not commit&mdash;not publicly accused, but accused in my own home by
+one&mdash;one who ought to have known me better; and I had inadvertently&mdash;by
+pure accident, remember&mdash;brought great misery and sorrow upon my house.
+In all this&mdash;I could swear it to you, Elizabeth&mdash;I was not to blame. Can
+you believe my word?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can, I do."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you for saying so, my love&mdash;the one love of my
+life&mdash;Elizabeth! Forgive me: I will not say it again. To add to my
+troubles, then, I found reason to believe that I had no right to the
+name I bore, that I was of a different family, a different race,
+altogether; that it would simplify the disposal of certain property if I
+were dead; and so&mdash;I died. I disappeared. I can never again take the
+name that once was mine."</p>
+
+<p>He said all this, but no suspicion of the truth crossed Elizabeth's
+mind. That she was the person who had benefited by his disappearance was
+as far from her thoughts as from Brian's at that moment. That he was the
+Brian Luttrell of whom she had so often heard, whose death in the Alps
+had seemed so certain that even the law courts had been satisfied that
+she might rightfully inherit his possessions, that he&mdash;John Stretton,
+the boys' tutor&mdash;could be this dead cousin of her's, was too incredible
+a thought ever to occur to her. She felt nothing but sorrow for his past
+troubles, and a conviction that he was perfectly in the right.</p>
+
+<p>"But you are deceiving your friends," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"For their good, as I firmly believe," answered Brian, sorrowfully. "If
+I went back to them, I should cause a great deal of confusion and
+distress: I should make my so-called heirs uncomfortable and unhappy,
+and, as far as I can see, I should have no right to the property that
+they would not consent to retain if I were living."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;if I am dead, and if no one else appears to claim it. It is a
+complicated business, and one that would take some time to explain. Let
+it suffice that I was utterly hopeless, utterly miserable, when I cast
+away what had always seemed to me to be my birthright; that I was then
+for many months very ill; and that, when you met me in Italy, I was just
+winning my way back to health, and repose of mind and body. And then&mdash;do
+you remember how you looked and spoke to me? Of course, you do not know.
+You were good, and sweet, and kind: you stretched out your hand to aid a
+fallen man, for I was poorer and more friendless than you knew; and from
+the moment when you said you trusted me, as we sat together on the bench
+upon the cliffs my whole soul went out to you, Elizabeth, and I loved
+you as I never had loved before&mdash;as I never shall love again."</p>
+
+<p>"In time," she murmured, "you will learn to care for someone else, in
+time you will forget me."</p>
+
+<p>"Forget you! I can never forget you, Elizabeth. Your trust in me&mdash;an
+unknown, friendless man, your goodness to me, your sweet pity for me,
+will never be forgotten. Can you wonder if I loved you, and if I thought
+that my love must surely have betrayed itself? I fancied that you
+guessed it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she said, hurriedly. "I did not guess. I did not think. I only
+knew that you were a kind friend to me, and taught me and helped me in
+many ways. I have been often very lonely&mdash;I never had a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Percival Heron, then, no friend to you?" he asked, with something of
+indignant sternness in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, he is a friend; but not&mdash;not&mdash;I cannot tell you what he
+is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you love him?" cried Brian, the sternness changing to anguish, as
+the doubt first presented itself to him. "Elizabeth, do not tell me that
+you have promised yourself to a man that you do not love! I may be
+miserable; but do not let me think that you will be miserable, too."</p>
+
+<p>He caught both her hands in his and looked her steadily in the face. "I
+have heard them say that you never told a lie in all your life," he went
+on. "Speak the truth still, Elizabeth, and tell me whether you love
+Percival Heron as a woman should love a man! Tell me the truth."</p>
+
+<p>She shrank a little at first, and tried to take her hands away. But when
+she found that Brian's clasp was firm, she drew herself up and looked
+him in the face with eyes that were full of an unutterable sadness, but
+also of a resolution which nothing on earth could shake.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no right to ask me the question," she said; "and I have no
+right to give you any answer."</p>
+
+<p>But something in her troubled face told him what that answer would have
+been.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>"GOOD-BYE."</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I see," he said, dropping her hands and turning away with a heavy sigh.
+"I was too late."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't misunderstand me," said Elizabeth, with an effort. "I shall be
+very happy. I owe a debt to my uncle and my cousins which scarcely
+anything can repay."</p>
+
+<p>"Give them anything but yourself" he said, gravely. "It is not right&mdash;I
+do not speak for myself now, but for you&mdash;it is not right to marry a man
+whom you do not love."</p>
+
+<p>"But I did not say that I do not love him," she cried, trying to shield
+herself behind this barrier of silence. "I said only that you had no
+right to ask the question."</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked at her and paused.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wrong," he said at last, but so gently that she could not take
+offence. "Surely one who cares for you as I do may know whether or not
+you love the man that you are going to marry. It is no unreasonable
+question, I think, Elizabeth. And if you do not love him, then again I
+say that you are wrong and that it is not like your brave and honest
+self to be silent."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot help it," she said, faintly. "I must keep my word."</p>
+
+<p>"You are the best judge of that," he answered. But there was a little
+coldness in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am the best judge," she went on more firmly. "I have promised;
+and I will not break the promise that I have made. I told you before how
+much I consider that I owe to them. Now that I have the chance of doing
+a thing that will benefit, not only Percival, but all of them&mdash;from a
+worldly point of view, I mean&mdash;I cannot bear to think of drawing back
+from what I said I would do."</p>
+
+<p>"How will it benefit them?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a very small way, no doubt," she said, looking aside, so that she
+might not see the mute protest of his face; "because worldly prosperity
+is a small thing after all; but if you had seen, as I have, what it was
+to my uncle to live in a poverty-stricken, sordid way, hampered with
+duns and debts, and Percival harassing himself with vain endeavours to
+set things straight, and the children feeling the sting of poverty more
+and more as they grew older&mdash;and then to know that one has the power in
+one's hands of remedying everything, without giving pain or hurting any
+one's pride, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," said Brian, as she hesitated for a word. "But I do not
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not!"</p>
+
+<p>"How can you set things straight? And how is it that things want setting
+straight? Mr. Heron is&mdash;surely&mdash;a rich man."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed; even in the midst of her agitation, she laughed a soft,
+pleasant, little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I forgot," she said, suddenly. "You do not know. I found out on the
+day you came that you did not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Did not know&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes to his face, and spoke with gravity, but great
+sweetness.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody meant to deceive you," she said; "in fact, I scarcely know how
+it is that you have not learnt the truth&mdash;partly; I suppose, because in
+Italy I begged them not to tell anybody the true state of the case; but,
+really, my uncle is not rich at all. He is a poor man. And Percival is
+poor, too&mdash;very poor," she added, with a lingering sigh over the last
+two words.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor! But&mdash;how could a poor man travel in Italy, and rent the Villa
+Venturi, say nothing of Strathleckie?"</p>
+
+<p>"He did not rent it. They were my guests."</p>
+
+<p>"Your guests? And what are they now, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"My guests still."</p>
+
+<p>Brian rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are a rich woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is you, perhaps, who have paid me for teaching these boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no disgrace in being paid for work that is worth doing and
+that is done well," said Elizabeth, flashing an indignant look at him.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head to the rebuke.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Miss Murray. But you will, I hope, do me the justice to
+see that I was perfectly ignorant of the state of affairs; that I was
+blind&mdash;foolishly blind&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not foolishly. You could not help it."</p>
+
+<p>"I might have seen. I might have known. I took you for&mdash;&mdash;" And there
+Brian stopped, actually colouring at the thought of his mistake.</p>
+
+<p>"For the poor relation; the penniless cousin. But it was most natural
+that you should, and two years ago it would have been perfectly true. I
+have not been a rich woman for very many months, and I do not love my
+riches very much."</p>
+
+<p>"If I had known," began Brian; and then he burst out with a sudden
+change of tone. "Give them your riches, since they value them and you do
+not, and give yourself to me, Elizabeth. Surely your debt to them would
+then be paid."</p>
+
+<p>"What! by recompensing kindness with treachery?" she said, glancing at
+him mournfully. "No, that plan would not answer. The money is a small
+part of what I owe them. But I do sometimes wish that it had gone to
+anybody but me; especially when I remember the sad circumstances under
+which it became mine. When I think of poor Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen,
+I have never felt as if it were right to spend her sons' inheritance in
+what gave pleasure to myself alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Luttrell of &mdash;&mdash; But what have you to do with her?" said Brian,
+with a sudden fixity of feature and harshness of voice that alarmed
+Elizabeth. "Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen! Good Heaven! It is not
+you&mdash;you&mdash;who inherited that property? The Luttrell-Murrays&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am the only Luttrell-Murray living," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>He stared at her dumbly, as if he could not believe his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have the Luttrell estate?" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I have."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of it," he answered; and then he put his hand over his eyes
+for a second or two, as if to shut out the light of day. "Yes, I am very
+glad."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Mr. Stretton?" said Elizabeth, who was watching him
+intently. "Do you know anything of my family? Do you know anything of
+the Luttrells?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have met some of them," he answered, slowly. His face was paler than
+usual, and his eyes, after one hasty glance at her, fell to the ground.
+"It was a long time ago. I do not know them now."</p>
+
+<p>"You said you had been here before. You&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray, don't question me as to how I knew them. You cannot guess
+what a painful subject it is to me. I would rather not discuss it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Mr. Stretton&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me tell you something else," he said, hastily, as if anxious to
+change the subject. "Let me ask you&mdash;as you are the arbitress of my
+destiny, my employer, I may call you&mdash;when you will let me go. Could the
+boys do without me at once, do you think? You would soon find another
+tutor."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stretton! Why should you go? Do you mean to leave us?" exclaimed
+Elizabeth. "Oh, surely it is not necessary to do that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it would be so easy for me, then, to take money from your
+hands after what has passed between us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Money is a small thing," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Money! yes; but there are other things in the world beside money. And
+it is better that I should go away from you now. It is not for my peace
+to see you every day, and know that you are to marry Percival Heron.
+Cannot you guess what pain it is to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the children: you have no love for them, then. I thought that you
+did love our little Jack&mdash;and they are so fond of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try to keep me," he said, hoarsely. "It is hard enough to say
+good-bye without having to refuse you anything. The one thing now for
+which I could almost thank God is that you never loved me, Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>She shivered, and drew a long, sobbing breath. Her face looked pale and
+cold: her voice did not sound like itself as she murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;no, I can't tell you why. Think for yourself of a reason. It
+is not that I love you less; and yet&mdash;yet&mdash;not for the world would I
+marry you now that I know what I know."</p>
+
+<p>"You would not marry me because I am rich: that is it, is it not?" she
+asked him. "I knew that some men were proud; but I did not think that
+you would be so proud."</p>
+
+<p>"What does it signify? There is no chance of your marrying me; you are
+going to marry another man&mdash;whom you do not love; we may scarcely ever
+see each other again after to-day. It is better so."</p>
+
+<p>"If I were free," she said, slowly, "and if&mdash;if&mdash;I loved you, you would
+be doing wrong to leave me because&mdash;only because&mdash;I was a little richer
+than you. I do not think that that is your only motive. It is since you
+heard that I was one of the Luttrell-Murrays that you have spoken in
+this way."</p>
+
+<p>"What if it were? The fact remains," he said, gloomily. "You do not care
+for me; and I&mdash;I would give my very soul for you, Elizabeth. I had
+better go. Think of me kindly when I am away&mdash;that is all. I see Miss
+Heron and the boys on the brow of the hill signalling to us. Will you
+excuse me if I say good-bye to you now, and walk back towards
+Strathleckie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must it be now?" she said, scarcely knowing what the words implied. She
+turned her face towards him with a look that he never forgot&mdash;a look of
+inexpressible regret, of yearning sweetness, of something only too like
+the love that he thought he had failed to win. It caused him to turn
+back and to lean over her with a half-whispered question&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Would it have been possible, Elizabeth, if we had met earlier, do you
+think that you ever could have loved me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think you ought to ask me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, give me one word of comfort before I go. Remember that I go for
+ever. It will do no one any harm. Could you have loved me, Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I could," she murmured in so low a tone that he could hardly
+hear the words. He seized her hands and pressed them closely in his own;
+he could do no more, for the Herons were very near. "Good-bye, my love,
+my own darling!" were the last words she heard. They rang in her ears as
+if they had been as loud as a trumpet-call; she could hardly believe
+that they had not re-echoed far and wide across the moor. She felt giddy
+and sick. The last sight of his face was lost in a strange, momentary
+darkness. When she saw clearly again he was walking away from her with
+long, hasty strides, and her cousins were close at hand. She watched him
+eagerly, but he did not turn round. She knew instinctively that he had
+resolved that she should never see his face again.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, Betty?" cried one of the children. "You look so
+white! And where is Mr. Stretton going? Mr. Stretton! Wait for us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call Mr. Stretton," said Elizabeth, collecting her forces, and
+speaking as nearly as possible in her ordinary tone. "He wants to get
+back to Strathleckie as quickly as possible. I am rather tired and am
+resting."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not usually tired with so short a walk," said Kitty, glancing
+sharply at her cousin's pallid cheeks. "Are you not well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am quite well," Elizabeth answered. "But I am very, very tired."</p>
+
+<p>And then she rose and made her way back to the loch-side, where Mr. and
+Mrs. Heron were still reposing. But her steps lagged, and her face did
+not recover its usual colour as she went home, for, as she had said, she
+was tired&mdash;strangely and unnaturally tired&mdash;and it was with a feeling of
+relief that she locked herself into her own room at Strathleckie, and
+gave way to the gathering tears which she had hitherto striven to
+restrain. She would willingly have stayed away from the dinner-table,
+but she was afraid of exciting remark. Her pale face and heavy eyelids
+excited remark as much as her absence would have done; but she did not
+think of that. Mr. Stretton, who usually dined with them, sent an excuse
+to Mrs. Heron. He had a headache, and preferred to remain in his own
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been the sun," said Mrs. Heron. "Elizabeth has a headache,
+too. Have you a headache, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, thank you," said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>There was something peculiar in her tone, thought Elizabeth. Or was it
+only that her conscience was guilty, and that she was becoming apt to
+suspect hidden meanings in words and tones that used to be harmless and
+innocent enough? The idea was a degrading one to her mind. She hated the
+notion of having anything to conceal&mdash;anything, at least, beyond what
+was lawful and right. Her inheritance, her engagement to Percival, had
+been to some extent kept secret; but not, as she now said passionately
+to herself, not because she was ashamed of them. Now, indeed, she was
+ashamed of her secret, and there was nothing on earth from which she
+shrank so much as the thought of its being discovered.</p>
+
+<p>She went to bed early, but she could not sleep. The words that Brian had
+said to her, the answers that she had made to him, were rehearsed one
+after the other, turned over in her mind, commented on, and repeated
+again and again all through the night. She hardly knew the meaning of
+her own excitement of feeling, nor of the intense desire that possessed
+her to see him again and listen once more to his voice. She only knew
+that her brain was in a turmoil and that her heart seemed to be on fire.
+Sleep! She could not think of sleep. His face was before her, his voice
+was sounding in her ears, until the cock crew and the morning sunlight
+flooded all the room. And then for a little while, indeed, she slept,
+and dreamt of him.</p>
+
+<p>She awoke late and unrefreshed. She dressed leisurely, wondering
+somewhat at the vehemence of last night's emotion, but not mistress
+enough of herself to understand its danger. In that last moment of her
+interview with Brian she had given way far more than he knew. If he had
+understood and taken advantage of that moment of weakness, she would not
+have been able to refuse him anything. At a word she would have given up
+all for him&mdash;friends, home, riches, even her promise to Percival&mdash;and
+gone forth into the world with the man she loved, happier in her poverty
+than she had ever been in wealth. "Ask me no more, for at a touch I
+yield," was the silent cry of her inmost soul. But Brian had not
+understood. He did not dream that with Elizabeth, as with most women,
+the very weakest time is that which immediately follows the moment of
+greatest apparent strength. She had refused to listen to him at all&mdash;and
+after that refusal she was not strong, but weak in heart and will as a
+wearied child.</p>
+
+<p>Realising this, Elizabeth felt a sensation of relief and safety. She had
+escaped a great gulf&mdash;and yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;she had not reached that point
+of reasonableness and moderation at which she could be exactly glad that
+she had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>She made her way downstairs, and reached the dining-room to find that
+everyone but herself had breakfasted and gone out. She was too feverish
+to do more than swallow a cup of coffee and a little toast, and she had
+scarcely concluded her scanty meal before Mr. Heron entered the room
+with a disconcerted expression upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the reason of this freak of Stretton's, Elizabeth?" he
+asked almost immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Uncle Alfred?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean&mdash;has he taken a dislike to Strathleckie, or has anybody offended
+him? I can't understand it. Just when we were settling down so nicely,
+and found him such an excellent tutor for the boys! To run away after
+this fashion! It is too bad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Does Mr. Stretton think of leaving Strathleckie?" said Elizabeth, with
+her eyes bent steadfastly upon the table-cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"Think of leaving! My dear Lizzie, he has left! Gone: went this morning
+before any of us were down. Spoke to me last night about it; I tried to
+dissuade him, but his mind was quite made up."</p>
+
+<p>"What reason did he give?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he would not tell me the exact reason. I tried to find out, but
+he was as close as&mdash;as&mdash;wax," said Mr. Heron, trying to find a suitable
+simile. "He said he was much obliged to us all for our kindness to him;
+had no fault to find with anything or anybody; liked the place; but, all
+the same, he wanted to go, and go he must. I offered him double the
+salary&mdash;at least, I hinted as much: I knew you would not object, Lizzie
+dear, but it was no use. Partly family affairs; partly private reasons:
+that was all I could get out of him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Heron's long speech left Elizabeth the time to consider what to say.</p>
+
+<p>"It does not matter very much," she answered at length, indifferently:
+"we can find someone who will teach the boys quite as well, I have no
+doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" asked Mr. Heron. "Well, perhaps so. But, you see, it
+is not always easy to get a tutor at this time of the year, Elizabeth;
+and, besides, we shall not find one, perhaps, so ready to read Italian
+with you, as Mr. Stretton used to do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Oh, those Italian readings! How well she remembered them! How the
+interest which Mr. Stretton had from the first inspired in her had grown
+and strengthened in the hours that they spent together, with heads bent
+over the same page, and hearts throbbing in unison over the lines that
+spoke of Dante's Beatrice, or Petrarca's Laura! She shuddered at the
+remembrance, now fraught to her with keenest pain.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not want to read Italian again," she said, rising from the
+table. "We had better advertise for a tutor, Uncle Alfred, unless you
+think the boys might run wild for a little while, or unless Percival can
+find us one."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you be writing to Percival to-day, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Because you might mention that Mr. Stretton has left us. I am afraid
+that Percival will be glad," said Mr. Heron, with a little laugh; "he
+had an unaccountable dislike to poor Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Percival will be glad," said Elizabeth, turning mechanically to
+leave the room. At the door she paused. "Mr. Stretton left an address, I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he did not. He said he would write to me when his plans were
+settled. And I'm sorry to say he would not take a cheque. I pressed it
+upon him, and finally left it on the table for him&mdash;where I found it
+again this morning. He said that he had no right to it, leaving as
+suddenly as he did&mdash;some crochet of that kind. I should think that
+Stretton could be very Quixotic if he chose."</p>
+
+<p>"When he writes," said Elizabeth, "you will send him the cheque, will
+you not, Uncle Alfred? I do not think that he is very well off; and it
+seems a pity that he should be in want of money for the sake of&mdash;of&mdash;a
+scruple."</p>
+
+<p>She did not wait for a reply, but closed the door behind her, and stood
+for a few moments in the hall, silently wondering what to do and where
+to go. Finally she put on her garden hat and went out into the grounds.
+She felt that she must be alone.</p>
+
+<p>A sort of numbness came over her. He had gone, without a word, without
+making any effort to see her again. His "Good-bye" had been spoken in
+solemn earnest. He had been stronger than Elizabeth; although in
+ordinary matters it might be thought that her nature was the stronger of
+the two. There was nothing, therefore, for her to say or do; she could
+not write to him, she could not call him back. If she could have done so
+she would. She had never known before what it was to hunger for the
+sight of a beloved face, to think of the words that she might have said,
+and long to say them. She did not as yet know by what name to call her
+misery. Only, little by little she woke up to the fact that it was what
+people meant when they spoke of love. Then she began to understand her
+position. She had promised to marry Percival Heron, but her heart was
+given to the penniless tutor who called himself John Stretton.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A COVENANT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Brian had no fixed notion of what he should do, but he thought it better
+to go to London, where he could more easily decide on his future
+movements. He was in no present difficulty, for the liberal salary which
+he had received from the Herons during the past few months was almost
+untouched, and although he had just now a morbid dislike to touching the
+money that had come to him through Elizabeth's generosity, he had the
+sense to see that he must make use of it, and turn it to the best
+possible account.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of his journey he bought a newspaper. His eyes fell almost
+immediately upon a paragraph which caused him some amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Mysterious Case of Attempted Murder.</span>&mdash;A young man of respectable
+appearance was discovered early this morning in a state of complete
+insensibility at the end of a passage leading out of Mill-street,
+Blackfriars. He was found to have received a severe wound, presumably
+with a knife, in the left side, and had lost a considerable amount of
+blood, but, although weak, was still living. His watch and purse had not
+been abstracted, a fact which points to the conclusion either that the
+wound was inflicted by a companion in a drunken brawl, or that the thief
+was disturbed in his operations before the completion of the work. The
+young man speaks a little English as well as Italian, but he has not yet
+been able to give a precise account of the assault committed upon him.
+It is thought that the police have a clue to the criminal. The name
+given in the gentleman's pocket-book is Vasari; and he has been removed
+to Guy's Hospital, where he is reported to be doing well."</p>
+
+<p>"Vasari! Dino Vasari! can it be he?" said Brian, throwing down his
+newspaper. "What brings him to London?"</p>
+
+<p>Then it occurred to him that Father Cristoforo's long letter might have
+contained information concerning Dino's visit to London: possibly he had
+been asked to do the young Italian some service, which, of course, he
+had been unable to render as he had not read the letter. He felt doubly
+vexed at his own carelessness as he thought of this possibility, and
+resolved to go to the hospital and see whether the man who had been
+wounded was Dino Vasari or not. And then he forgot all about the
+newspaper paragraph, and lost himself in sad reflections concerning the
+unexpected end of his connection with the Herons.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in London, he found out a modest lodging, and began to arrange
+his plans for the future. A fit of restlessness seemed to have come upon
+him. He could not bear to think of staying any longer in England. He
+paid a visit next morning to an Emigration Agency Office, asking whether
+the agents could direct him to the best way of obtaining suitable work
+in the Colonies. He did not care where he went or what he did; his
+preference was for work in the open air, because he still at times felt
+the effect of that brain-fever which had so nearly ended his existence
+at San Stefano; but his physique was not exactly of the kind which was
+most suited to bush-clearing and sheep-farming. This he was told, and
+informed, moreover, that so large a number of clerks arrived yearly in
+Australia and America, that the market in that sort of labour was
+over-stocked, and that, if he was a clerk, he had a better chance in the
+Old World than in the New.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not a clerk; I have lately been a tutor," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>References?</p>
+
+<p>He could refer them to his late employer.</p>
+
+<p>A degree? Oxford or Cambridge?</p>
+
+<p>And there the questions ceased to be answered satisfactorily. He could
+not tell them that he had been to Oxford, because he dared not refer
+them to the name under which he studied at Balliol. He hesitated,
+blundered a little&mdash;he certainly had never mastered the art of lying
+with ease and fluency&mdash;and created so unfavourable an impression in the
+mind of the emigration agent that that gentleman regarded him with
+suspicion from that moment, and apparently ceased to wish to afford him
+any aid.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry," he said, politely, "but I don't think that we have
+anything that would suit you. There is a college at Dunedin where they
+want a junior master, but there, a man with a good degree
+and&mdash;hum&mdash;unimpeachable antecedents would be required. People out there
+are in want of men with a trade: not of clerks, nor of poor professional
+men."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must go as a hodman or a breaker of stones," said Brian, "for I
+mean to go."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think that that employment is one for which you are especially
+fitted, Mr. Smith," said the agent, with a slight smile. Brian had
+impatiently given the name of Smith in making his application, and the
+agent, who was a man of wide experience, did not believe that it was his
+own; "but, of course, if you like to try it, you can look at these
+papers about 'assisted passages.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, that is not necessary," answered Brian, rather curtly. "A
+steerage passage to Australia does not cost a fortune. If I go out as a
+labouring man I think I can manage it. But I am obliged to you for your
+kindness in answering my questions."</p>
+
+<p>He had resumed his usual manner, which had been somewhat ruffled by the
+tone taken by the agent, and now asked one or two practical questions
+respecting the fares, the lines of steamers, and matters of that kind;
+after which he bade the agent a courteous good-morning and went upon his
+way.</p>
+
+<p>He foresaw that the inevitable cloud hanging over his past story would
+prove a great obstacle to his obtaining employment in the way he
+desired. Any work requiring certificates or testimonials was utterly out
+of the question for him in England. In Australia or New Zealand things
+might be different. He had no great wish to go to America&mdash;he had once
+spent a summer holiday in the Eastern States, and did not fancy that
+they would be agreeable places of residence for him in his present
+circumstances, and he had no great desire to "go West;" besides, he had
+a wish to put as great a distance as possible between himself and
+England. As he walked away from the emigration office he made up his
+mind to take the first vessel that sailed for Sydney.</p>
+
+<p>He had nothing to do. He wanted to divert his mind from thoughts of
+Elizabeth. It flashed across his mind that he would go to the hospital
+and inquire after the man who had been stabbed, and who called himself
+Vasari.</p>
+
+<p>He made his request to see the patient, and was admitted with such
+readiness that he suspected the case to be a dangerous one. And, indeed,
+the house-surgeon acknowledged this to be so. The stab, he said, had
+gone wonderfully near the vital parts; a hair's-breadth deviation to the
+right or left, and Vasari would have been a dead man. It was still
+uncertain whether he would recover, and all agitation must be avoided,
+as he was not allowed either to move or speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure whether he is the young man I used to know or not," said
+Brian, doubtfully. "Vasari&mdash;was there a Christian name given as well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes: Bernardino, and in another place simply Dino. Was that the name of
+your friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was. If I saw him I should be sure. I don't suppose that my
+appearance would agitate him," said Brian, little suspecting the deep
+interest and importance which would attach to his visit in Dino's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, then." And the surgeon led the way to the bed, hidden by a screen
+from the rest of the ward, where Dino lay.</p>
+
+<p>Brian passed with the nurse inside the screen, and looked pityingly at
+the patient.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, in a low tone, "it is the man I know."</p>
+
+<p>He thought that Dino was unconscious, but at the sound of his voice&mdash;low
+though it was&mdash;the patient opened his eyes, and fixed them upon Brian's
+face. Brian had said that his appearance would produce no agitation, but
+he was mistaken. A sudden change passed over that pale countenance.
+Dino's great dark eyes seemed to grow larger than ever; his face assumed
+a still more deathly tinge; the look of mingled anguish and horror was
+unmistakable. He tried to speak, he tried to rise in his bed, but the
+effort was too great, and he sank back insensible. The indignant nurse
+hustled Brian away, and would not allow him to return; he ought to have
+known, she said, that the sight of him would excite the patient. Brian
+had not known, and was grieved to think that his visit had been
+unacceptable. But that did not prevent him from writing an account of
+the state in which he had found Dino Vasari to his friend, Padre
+Cristoforo; nor from calling at the hospital every day to inquire after
+the state of his Italian friend. He was glad to hear at last that Dino
+was out of danger; then, that he was growing a little stronger; and then
+that he had expressed a desire to see the English gentleman when he
+called again.</p>
+
+<p>By this time he had, to some extent, changed his plans. Neither
+Australia nor New Zealand would be his destination. He had taken his
+passage in a vessel bound for Pernambuco, and a very short time remained
+to him in England. He was glad to think that he should see Dino before
+he went.</p>
+
+<p>He found the young man greatly altered: his eyes gleamed in orbits of
+purple shadow: his face was white and wasted. But the greatest change of
+all lay in this&mdash;that there was no smile upon his lips, no pleasure in
+his eyes, when he saw Brian draw near his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Dino!" said Brian, holding out his hand. "How did you come here, amico
+mio?" And then he noticed the absence of any welcoming word or gesture
+on Dino's part. The large dark eyes were bent upon him questioningly,
+and yet with a proud reserve in their shadowy depths. And the
+blue-veined hands locked themselves together upon the coverlet instead
+of returning Brian's friendly grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Why have you come?" said Dino, in a loud whisper. "What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want nothing save to ask how you are and to see you again," replied
+Brian, after a pause of astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"If you want to alter your decision it is not yet too late. I have taken
+no steps towards the claiming of my rights."</p>
+
+<p>"His mind must be wandering," thought Brian to himself. He added aloud
+in a soothing tone, "I have made no decision about anything, Dino. Can I
+do anything for you?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino looked at him long and meditatively. Brian's face expressed some
+surprise, but perfect tranquility of mind. He had seated himself at
+Dino's bed-side, and was leaning his chin upon his hand and his elbow
+upon his crossed knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you make Hugo Luttrell your messenger? Why not come to meet me
+yourself as Padre Cristoforo begged you to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian shook his head. "I don't think you had better talk, Dino," he
+said. "You are feverish, surely. I will come and see you again
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no: answer my question first," said Dino, a slight flush rising to
+his thin cheeks. "Why could you not come yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"When! You know."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my honour, Dino, I don't know what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you&mdash;had a letter from Padre Cristoforo&mdash;about me?" said Dino,
+stammering with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked guilty. "I was a great fool, Dino," he said, penitently. "I
+had a letter from him, and I managed to lose it before I had read more
+than the first sheet, in which there was nothing about you. I suppose he
+told me in that letter why you came to London, and asked me to meet you
+or something; and I wish I had met you, if it would have prevented this
+unfortunate accident of yours, or whatever it was. My own carelessness
+is always to blame," said Brian, with a heavy sigh, "and I don't wonder
+that you look coldly upon me, Dino, when I seem to have done you such an
+unfriendly turn. But I don't think I need say that I never meant to do
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know that I was here?" asked Dino, with breathless
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw in the papers an account of your being found insensible from a
+wound in your side. The name Vasari was mentioned, and I came to see if
+it could possibly be you."</p>
+
+<p>Dino was silent for a few minutes. Then his face lighted up, his pale
+lips parted with a smile. "So you never read Father Cristoforo's
+letter?" he said. "And you sent me no message of reply?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. How could I, when I did not know that you were in
+England?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino held out his hands. "I misjudged you," he said, simply, "Will you
+forgive me and take my hand again?"</p>
+
+<p>Brian clasped his hand. "You know there's nothing to forgive," he said,
+with a smile. "But I am glad you don't think I neglected you on purpose,
+Dino. I had not forgotten those pleasant days at San Stefano."</p>
+
+<p>Dino smiled, too, but did not seem inclined to speak again. The nurse
+came to say that the interview had lasted long enough, and Brian took
+his leave, promising to come on the morrow, and struck with the look of
+perfect peace and quiet upon the placid face as it lay amongst the white
+pillows, almost as white as they.</p>
+
+<p>He had only a couple of days left before he was to start for Pernambuco,
+where he had heard of work that was likely to suit him. He had made his
+arrangements, taken his passage in the steerage: he had nothing to do
+now but to write a farewell letter to Mr. Heron, telling him whither he
+was bound, and another&mdash;should he write that other or should he not?&mdash;to
+Elizabeth. He felt it hard to go without saying one last farewell to
+her. The discovery that she was the heiress of his property had finally
+decided him to leave England. He dared not risk the chance of being
+recognised and identified, if such recognition and identification would
+lead to her poverty. For even if, by a deed of gift in his supposed name
+of Brian Luttrell, he devised his wealth to her, he knew that she would
+never consent to take it if he were still alive. The doubt thrown on his
+birth and parentage would not be conclusive enough in her mind to
+justify her in despoiling him of what all the judges in the land would
+have said was his birthright. But then Brian did not know that Vincenza
+Vasari had been found. The existence of another claimant to the Luttrell
+estate never troubled him in the least. He wronged nobody, he thought,
+by allowing Elizabeth Murray to suppose that Brian Luttrell was dead.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote a few lines to Mr. Heron, thanking him for his kindness, and
+informing him that he was leaving England for South America; and then he
+proceeded to the more difficult task of writing to Elizabeth. He
+destroyed many sheets of paper, and spent a great deal of time in the
+attempt, although the letter, as it stood at last, was a very simple
+affair, scarcely worthy of the pains that had been bestowed upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Murray</span>," he wrote, "when you receive this note I shall have
+left England, but I cannot go without one word of farewell. You will
+never know how much you did for me in those early days of our
+acquaintance in Italy; how much hope you gave me back, how much interest
+in life you inspired in me; but for all that you did I thank you. Is it
+too much to ask you to remember me sometimes? I shall remember you until
+the hour of my death. Forgive me if I have said too much. God bless you,
+Elizabeth! Let me write that name once, for I shall never write to you
+nor see your face again."</p>
+
+<p>He put no signature. He could not bear to use a false name when he wrote
+to her; and he was sure that she would know from whom the letter came.</p>
+
+<p>He went out and dropped it with his own hands into a letter-box; then he
+came back to his dreary lodgings, never expecting to find there anything
+of interest. But he found something that interested him very much
+indeed. He found a long and closely written letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>Father Cristoforo could not resist the opportunity of lecturing his
+young friend a little. He gave him a good many moral maxims before he
+came to the story that he had to tell, and he pointed them by observing
+rather severely that if it were not for Brian's carelessness, his pupil
+might possibly have escaped the "accident" that had befallen him. For if
+Brian had met Dino in London on the appointed day, he would not have
+been wandering alone in the streets (as Father Cristoforo imagined him
+to have been) or fallen into the hands of thieves and murderers.</p>
+
+<p>With which prologue the Padre once more began his story. And this time
+Brian read it all.</p>
+
+<p>He put down the letter at last with a curious smile: the smile of a man
+who does not want to acknowledge that he suffers pain. "Dino," he said
+to himself, lingeringly. "Dino! It is he who is Brian Luttrell, then,
+after all. And what am I? And, oh, my poor Elizabeth! But she will only
+regret the loss of the money because she will no longer be able to help
+other people. The Herons will suffer more than she. And Percival Heron!
+How will it affect him? I think he will be pleased. Yes, I think he is
+disinterested enough to be thoroughly pleased that she is poor. I should
+be pleased, in his case.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no doubt about it now, I suppose," he said, beginning to pace
+up and down the little room, with slow, uneven steps and bent head. "I
+am not a Luttrell. I am a Vasari. My mother's name was Vincenza
+Vasari&mdash;a woman who lied and cheated for the sake of her child. And I
+was the child! Good God! how can it be that I have that lying blood in
+my veins? Yet I have no right to say so; it was all done for me&mdash;for
+me&mdash;who never knew a mother's love. Oh, mother, mother, how much happier
+your son would have been if you had reared him in the place where he was
+born, amongst the vines and olive-yards of his native land.</p>
+
+<p>"And I must see Dino to-morrow. So he knows the whole story. I
+understand now why he thought ill of me for not coming to meet him, poor
+fellow! I must go early to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>He went, but as soon as he reached Dino's bed-side he found that he knew
+not what to say, Dino looked up at him with eyes full of grave, wistful
+affection, and suddenly smiled, as if something unwontedly pleasant had
+dawned upon his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he said, "at last&mdash;you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"And you are sorry? I am sorry, too."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Brian, finding it rather difficult to express himself at that
+moment; "I am not sorry that you are the man who will bear the name of
+Luttrell, that I have wrongly borne so long. I suppose&mdash;from what the
+Prior says&mdash;that your claim can be proved; if I were in my old position
+I should be the first to beg you to prove it, and to give up my name and
+place to you if justice required it. As it is, I do not stand in your
+way, because the old Brian Luttrell&mdash;the one who killed his brother, you
+know&mdash;is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you were in your old position, could you still pardon me and be
+friendly with me, even if I claimed my rights?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," said Brian. "I hope that I should not be so ungenerous as
+to look upon you as an enemy because you wished to take your own place
+amongst your own kindred. You ought rather to look upon me as your
+enemy, because I have occupied your place so long."</p>
+
+<p>"You are good&mdash;you are generous&mdash;you are noble!" said Dino, his eyes
+suddenly filling with tears. "If all the world were like you! And do you
+know what I shall do if the estate ever becomes mine? You shall take the
+half&mdash;you may take it all, if it please you better. But we will divide
+it, at any rate, and be to each other as brothers, shall we not? I have
+thought of you so often!"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke ardently, eagerly; pressing Brian's hands between his own from
+time to time. It was from an impulse as strong and simple as any of
+Dino's own that Brian suddenly stooped down and kissed him on the
+forehead. The caress seemed natural enough to Dino; it was as the
+ratification of some sacred bond to the English-bred Brian Luttrell.
+Henceforth, the two became to each other as brothers, indeed; the
+interests of one became the interests of the other. Before long, Dino
+learnt from Brian himself the whole of his sad story. He lay with
+shining eyes and parted lips, his hand clasped in Brian's, listening to
+his account of the events of the last two years. The only thing that
+Brian did not touch upon was his love for Elizabeth. That wound was too
+recent to be shown, even to Dino, who had leaped all at once, as it
+seemed, into the position of his bosom friend. But Dino guessed it all.</p>
+
+<p>As Brian walked back to his lodgings from the hospital, he was haunted
+by a verse of Scripture which had sprung up in his mind, and which he
+repeated with a certain sense of pleasure as soon as he recollected the
+exact words. "And it came to pass"&mdash;so ran the verse that he
+remembered&mdash;"when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul that the soul
+of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as
+his own soul." He liked the words. He looked them out in a Bible
+belonging to his landlady when he reached home, and he found another
+verse that touched him, too. "Then Jonathan and David made a covenant,
+because he loved him as his own soul."</p>
+
+<p>Had not Brian Luttrell and Dino Vasari made a covenant?</p>
+
+<p>The practical result of their friendship was an important one to Brian.
+He sacrificed his passage money, and did not sail on the following day
+for Pernambuco.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I wonder what she wants with me," said Percival Heron, meditatively. He
+was sitting at his solitary breakfast-table, having pushed from him an
+empty coffee-cup and several newspapers: a letter from Elizabeth was in
+his hands. It consisted of a few lines only, and the words that had
+roused his wonderment were these:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am very anxious to see you. Could you come down to Strathleckie at
+once? If not, pray come as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose she is too true a woman to say exactly what she wants," said
+Percival, a gay smile curling his lips beneath his black moustache.
+"Perhaps she won't be very angry with me this time if I press her a
+little on the subject of our marriage. We parted on not very good terms
+last time, rather <i>en délicatesse</i>, if I'm not mistaken, after
+quarrelling over our old subject of dispute, the tutor. Well, my lady's
+behests are to be obeyed. I'll wire an acceptance of the invitation and
+start to-night."</p>
+
+<p>He made the long journey very comfortably, grumbling now and then in a
+good-tempered way at Elizabeth for sending for him in so abrupt a
+fashion; but on the whole he felt pleased that she had done so. It
+showed that she had confidence in him. And he was very anxious for the
+engagement to be made public: its announcement would be a sort of
+justification to him in allowing her to do as much as she had done for
+his family. Percival had, in truth, always protested against her
+generosity, but failed in persuading his father not to accept it. Mr.
+Heron was too simple-minded to see why he should not take Elizabeth's
+gifts, and Mrs. Heron did not see the force of Percival's arguments at
+all.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth is not here, then," he said to Kitty, who met him at the
+station.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Kitty in rather a mysterious voice. "She wouldn't come."</p>
+
+<p>"Why wouldn't she come?" said Percival, sharply. He followed his sister
+into the waggonette as he spoke: he did not care about driving, and
+gladly resigned the reins to the coachman.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you. I don't think she is well."</p>
+
+<p>"Not well? What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. She always has a headache. Did she want you to come,
+Percival?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wrote to ask me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, will you have the goodness to say what you mean, instead of
+hinting?"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty looked frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean anything," she said, hurriedly, while a warm wave of
+colour spread itself over her cheeks and brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mean anything? That's nonsense. You should not say anything then.
+Out with it, Kitty. What do you think is wrong with Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Percival, don't be so angry with me," said Kitty, with the tears in
+her eyes. "Indeed, I scarcely meant to speak; but I did wish you to
+understand beforehand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think she wants to marry you." And then Kitty glanced up from
+under her thick, curling lashes, and was startled at the set and rigid
+change which suddenly came over her brother's features. She dared not
+say any more, and for some minutes they drove on in silence. Presently,
+Percival turned round to her with an icy sternness in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not say such things unless you have authority from Elizabeth
+to say them. Did she tell you to do so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, indeed she did not," cried Kitty, "and, of course, I may be
+mistaken; but I came to see you, Percival, on purpose to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"No woman is happy unless she is making mischief," said her brother,
+grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought not to say that, Percival; it is not fair. And I must say
+what I came to say. Elizabeth is very unhappy about something. I don't
+know what; and after all her goodness to us you ought to be careful that
+you are not making her do anything against her will."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever know Elizabeth do anything against her will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Against her wishes, then," said Kitty, firmly, "and against the
+dictates of her heart."</p>
+
+<p>"'These be fine words, indeed!'" quoted Percival, with a savage laugh.
+"And who has taught you to talk about the 'dictates of her heart?' Leave
+Elizabeth and me to settle our affairs between ourselves, if you please.
+We know our duty to each other without taking advice from a little
+schoolgirl."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty stifled a sob. "If you break Elizabeth's heart," she said,
+vehemently, "you can't say I didn't warn you."</p>
+
+<p>Percival looked at her, stifled a question at the tip of his tongue, and
+clutched his newspaper viciously. It occurred to him that Kitty knew
+something, that she would never have uttered a mere vague suspicion; but
+he would not ask her a direct question. No, Elizabeth's face and voice
+would soon tell him whether she was unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>He was right. Kitty had seen the parting between Brian and Elizabeth;
+and she had guessed a great deal more than she saw. She spoke out of no
+desire to make mischief, but from very love for her cousin and care for
+her happiness; but when she noted Percival's black brows she doubted
+whether she had done right.</p>
+
+<p>Percival did not speak again throughout the drive. He sat with his eyes
+bent on his newspaper, his hand playing with his moustache, a frown on
+his handsome face. It was not until the carriage stopped at the door of
+Strathleckie, and he had given his hand to Kitty to help her down that
+he opened his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't repeat what you have said to me to any other person, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, Percival."</p>
+
+<p>There was no time for more. The barking of dogs, the shouts of children,
+the greeting of Mr. Heron, prevented anything further. Percival looked
+round impatiently. But Elizabeth was not there.</p>
+
+<p>He was tired, although he would not confess it, with his night journey;
+and a bath, breakfast, and change of clothes did not produce their usual
+exhilarating effect. He found it difficult to talk to his father or to
+support the noise made by the children. Kitty's hint had put his mind
+into a ferment.</p>
+
+<p>"Can these boys not be sent to their lessons?" he said, at last,
+knitting his brows.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't you know?" said Harry, cutting a delighted caper. "We have
+holidays now. Mr. Stretton has gone away. He went away a fortnight ago,
+or nearly three weeks now."</p>
+
+<p>Percival looked suddenly at Kitty, who coloured vividly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did he go?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I can't tell you," said Mr. Heron, almost peevishly. "Family
+affairs, he said. And now he has gone to South America. I don't
+understand it at all."</p>
+
+<p>Neither did Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Elizabeth?" said Mr. Heron, looking round the room as if in
+search of her. "She can't know that Percival has come: go and tell her,
+one of you boys."</p>
+
+<p>"No, never mind," said Percival, quickly; but it was too late, the boy
+was gone.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence. Percival sat at one side of the
+whitely-draped table, with a luxurious breakfast before him and a great
+bowl of autumn flowers. The sunshine streamed in brightly through the
+broad, low windows; the pleasant room was fragrant with the scent of the
+burning wood upon the fire; the dogs wandered in and out, and stretched
+themselves comfortably upon the polished oak floor. Kitty sat in a
+cushioned window-seat and looked anxious; Mr. Heron stood by the
+fireplace and moved one of the burning logs in the grate with his foot.
+A sort of constraint had fallen over the little party, though nobody
+quite knew why; and it was not dispelled, even when Harry's footsteps
+were heard upon the stairs, and he threw open the door for Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>Percival threw down his serviette and started up to meet her. And then
+he knew why his father and sister looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth was
+changed; it was plain enough that Elizabeth must be ill.</p>
+
+<p>She was thinner than he had ever seen her, and her face had grown pale.
+But the fixed gravity and mournfulness of her expression struck him even
+more than the sharpened contour of her features or the dark lines
+beneath her eyes. She looked as if she suffered: as if she was suffering
+still.</p>
+
+<p>"You are ill!" he said, abruptly, holding her by the hand and looking
+down into her face.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I've been saying all along!" muttered Mr. Heron. "I knew he
+would be shocked by her looks. You should have prepared him, Kitty."</p>
+
+<p>"I have had neuralgia, that is all," said Elizabeth, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Strathleckie does not suit you; you ought to go away," remarked
+Percival, devouring her with his eyes. "What have you been doing to
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing: I am perfectly well; except for this neuralgia," she said,
+with a faint, vexed smile. "Did you have a comfortable journey, and have
+you breakfasted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will come out with me for a little stroll? I want to show you
+the grounds; and the others can spare you to me for a little while," she
+went on, with perfect ease and fluency. The only change in her manner
+was its unusual gravity, and the fact that she did not seem able to meet
+Percival's eye. "Are you too tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all." And they left the room together.</p>
+
+<p>She took him down the hill on which the house stood, by a narrow,
+winding path, to the side of a picturesque stream in the valley below.
+He had seen the place before, but he followed her without a word until
+they reached a wooden seat close to the water's edge, with its back
+fixed to the steep bank behind it. The rowan trees, with their clusters
+of scarlet berries, hung over it, and great clumps of ferns stood on
+either hand. It was an absolutely lonely place, and Percival knew
+instinctively that Elizabeth had brought him to it because she could
+here speak without fear of interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a beautiful place, is it not?" she said, as he took his seat
+beside her.</p>
+
+<p>He did not answer. He rather disdained the trivial question. He was
+silent for a few minutes, and then said briefly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me why you wanted me."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been unhappy," she said, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"That is easy to be seen."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? Oh, I am sorry for that. But I have had neuralgia. I have,
+indeed. That makes me look pale and tired."</p>
+
+<p>Percival threw his arm over the back of the seat with an impatient
+motion, and looked at the river. "Nothing else?" he asked, drily. "It
+seems hardly worth while to send for me if that was all. The doctor
+would have done better."</p>
+
+<p>"There is something else," said Elizabeth, in so quiet and even a voice
+as to sound almost indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I supposed so. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are making it very hard for me to tell you, Percival," said she,
+with one of her old, straight glances. "What is it you know? What is it
+you suspect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, Elizabeth, I have not said that I know or suspect anything.
+Everybody seems a little uncomfortable, but that is nothing. What is the
+matter?"</p>
+
+<p>As she did not answer, he turned and looked at her. Her face was pale,
+but there was a look of indomitable resolve about her which made him
+flinch from his purpose of maintaining a cold and reserved manner. A
+sudden fear ran through his heart lest Kitty's warning should be true!</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth," he said, quickly and passionately, "forgive me for the way
+in which I have spoken. I am an ill-tempered brute. It is my anxiety for
+you that makes me seem so savage. I cannot bear to see you look as you
+do: it breaks my heart!"</p>
+
+<p>Her lip trembled at this. She would rather that he had preserved his
+hard, sullen manner: it would have made it more easy for her to tell her
+story. She locked her hands closely together, and answered in low,
+hesitating tones:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am not worth your anxiety. I did not mean to be&mdash;untrue&mdash;to you,
+Percival. I suffered a great deal before I made up my mind that I had
+better tell you&mdash;everything."</p>
+
+<p>A tear fell down her pale cheek unheeded. Percival rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there is much to tell, is there?" he said. "You mean that
+you wish to give me up, to throw me over? Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>His words were calm, but the tone of ironical bitterness in which they
+were uttered cut Elizabeth to the quick. She lifted her head proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "you are wrong. I wish nothing of the kind."</p>
+
+<p>He stood in an attitude of profound attention, waiting for her to
+explain. His face wore its old, rigid look: the upright line between his
+brows was very marked indeed. But he would not speak again.</p>
+
+<p>"Percival," she said&mdash;and her tone expressed great pain and profound
+self-abasement&mdash;"when I promised to marry you&mdash;someday, you will
+remember that I never said I loved you. I thought that I should learn to
+love in time. And so I did&mdash;but not&mdash;not you."</p>
+
+<p>"And who taught you the lesson that I failed to impart?" asked Percival,
+with the sneer in his voice which she knew and dreaded.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ask me," she said, painfully. "It is not fair to ask me that. I
+did not know until it was too late."</p>
+
+<p>"Until he&mdash;whoever he was&mdash;asked you to marry him, I suppose? Well, when
+is the ceremony to take place? Do you expect me to dance at the wedding?
+Do you think I am going tamely to resign my rights? My God, Elizabeth,
+is it you who can treat me in this way? Are all women as false as you?"</p>
+
+<p>He struck his foot fiercely against the ground, and walked away from
+her. When he came back he found her in the same position; white as a
+statue, with her hands clasped together upon her knee, and her eyes
+fixed upon the running water.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that I am a stone," he said, violently, "that you tell me
+the story of your falseness so quietly, as if it were a tale that I
+should like to hear? Do you think that I feel nothing, or do you care so
+little what I feel? You had better have refused me outright at once than
+kept me dangling at your feet for a couple of years, only to throw me
+over at the last!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not thrown you over," she said, raising her blue-grey eyes
+steadily to his agitated face. "I wanted to tell you; that was all. If
+you like to marry me now, knowing the truth, you may do so."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"I may have been false to you in heart," she said, the hot blood tinting
+her cheeks with carnation as she spoke, "but I will not break my word."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did your lover say to that?" he asked, roughly, as he stood
+before her. "Did he not say that you were as false to him as you were to
+me? Did he not say that he would come back again and again, and force
+you to be true, at least, to him? For that is what I should have done in
+his place."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," Elizabeth said, with a touch of antagonism in her tones, "he was
+nobler than you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no doubt," said Percival, tossing aside his head. "No doubt he is a
+finer fellow in every way. Am I to have the pleasure of making his
+acquaintance?"</p>
+
+<p>His scorn, his intolerance, were rousing her spirit at last. She spoke
+firmly, with a new light in her eyes, a new self-possession in her
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"You are unjust, Percival. I think that you do not understand what I
+mean to tell you. He accepted my decision, and I shall never see him
+again. I thought at first that I would not tell you, but let our
+engagement go on quietly; and then again I thought that it would be
+unfair to you not to tell you the whole truth. I leave it to you to say
+what we should do. I have no love to give you&mdash;but you knew that from
+the first. The difference now is that I&mdash;I love another."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she uttered the last few words,
+and she covered her face with her hands. Percival's brow cleared a
+little; the irony disappeared from his lips, the flash of scorn from his
+eye. He advanced to her side, and stood looking down at her for several
+minutes before he attempted any answer to her speech.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to say," he began, in a softer tone, "that you rejected this
+man because you had given your promise to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You sent him away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And he knew the reason? Did he know that you loved him, Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>The answer was given reluctantly, after a long pause. "I do not know. I
+am afraid&mdash;he did."</p>
+
+<p>Percival drew a short, impatient breath. "You must forgive me if I was
+violent just now, Elizabeth. This is very hard to bear."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare not ask your pardon," she murmured, with her face still between
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my pardon? That will do you little good," he said, contemptuously.
+"The question is&mdash;what is to be done? I suppose this man&mdash;this lover of
+yours&mdash;is within call, as it were, Elizabeth? You could summon him with
+your little finger? If I released you from this engagement to me, you
+could whistle him back to you next day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," she said, looking up at him wonderingly. "He is gone away from
+England. I do not know where he is."</p>
+
+<p>"It is this man Stretton, then?" said Percival, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden rush of colour to her face assured him that he had guessed the
+truth. "I always suspected him," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"You had no need. He behaved as honourably as possibly. He did not know
+of my engagement to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Honourably? A penniless adventurer making love to one of the richest
+women in Scotland!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mistake, Percival. He did not know that I was rich."</p>
+
+<p>"A likely story!"</p>
+
+<p>"You insult him&mdash;and me," said Elizabeth, in a very low tone. "If you
+have no pity, have some respect&mdash;for him&mdash;if you have none for me." And
+then she burst into an agony of tears, such as he had never seen her
+shed before. But he was pitiless still. The wound was very deep: his
+pain very sharp and keen.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had any pity for me?" he said. "Why should I pity him? To my
+mind, he is the most enviable man on earth, because he has your love.
+Respect him, when he has stolen from me the thing that I value more than
+my life! You do not know what you say."</p>
+
+<p>She still wept, and presently he sat down beside her and leaned his head
+on his hand, looking at her from out of the shadow made by his bent
+fingers above his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me understand matters clearly," he said. "You sent him away, and he
+has gone to America, never to return. Is that it? And you will marry me,
+although you do not love me, because you have promised to do so, if I
+ask you? What do you expect me to say?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. She could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not generous," he went on deliberately. "You have known me long
+enough to be aware that I am a very selfish man. I will not give you up
+to Stretton. He is not the right husband for you. He is a man whom you
+picked up in the streets, without a character, without antecedents, with
+a history which he dares not tell. So much I gathered from my father. I
+say nothing about his behaviour in this case; he may have acted well, or
+he may have acted badly; I have no opinion to give. But you shall never
+be his wife."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth's tears were dried as if by magic. She sat erect, listening
+with set lips and startled eyes to the fierce energy of his tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I accept your sacrifice," he said. "You will thank me in the end that I
+did so. No, I do not release you from your engagement, Elizabeth. You
+have said that you would keep your word, and I hold you to it."</p>
+
+<p>He drew her to him with his arm, and kissed her cheek with passionate
+determination. She shrank away, but he would not let her go.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he proceeded, "you are my promised wife, Elizabeth. I have no
+intention of giving you up for Stretton or anybody else. I love you more
+than ever now that I see how brave and honest you can be. We will have
+no more concealments. When we go back to the house we will tell all the
+world of our engagement. It was the secrecy that worked this mischief."</p>
+
+<p>She wrenched herself away from him with a look of mingled pain and
+anger. "Percival!" she cried, "do you want to make me hate you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather have hate than indifference," he answered. "And whether
+you hate me or not, Elizabeth, you shall be my wife before the year is
+out. I shall not let you go."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Percival had his way. He came back to the house looking stern and grim,
+but with a resolute determination to carry his point. In half-an-hour it
+was known throughout the whole household that Miss Murray was engaged to
+be married to young Mr. Heron, and that the marriage would probably take
+place before Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty cast a frightened glance at Elizabeth's face when the announcement
+was made, but gathered little from its expression. A sort of dull apathy
+had come over the girl&mdash;a reaction, perhaps, from the excitement of
+feeling through which she had lately passed. It gave her no pain when
+Percival insisted upon demonstrations of affection which were very
+contrary to her former habits. She allowed him to hold her hand, to kiss
+her lips, to call her by endearing names, in a way that would ordinarily
+have roused her indignation. She seemed incapable of resistance to his
+will. And this passiveness was so unusual with her that it alarmed and
+irritated Percival by turns.</p>
+
+<p>Anger rather than affection was the motive of his conduct. As he himself
+had said, he was rather a selfish man, and he would not willingly
+sacrifice his own happiness unless he was very sure that hers depended
+upon the sacrifice. He was enraged with the man who had won Elizabeth's
+love, and believed him to be a scheming adventurer. Neither patience nor
+tolerance belonged to Percival's character; and although he loved
+Elizabeth, he was bitterly indignant with her, and not indisposed to
+punish her for her faithlessness by forcing her to submit to caresses
+which she neither liked nor returned. If he had any magnanimity in him
+he deliberately put it on one side; he knew that he was taking a revenge
+upon her for which she might never forgive him, which was neither
+delicate nor generous, but he told himself that he had been too much
+injured to show mercy. It was Elizabeth's own fault if he assumed the
+airs of a sultan with a favourite slave, instead of kneeling at her
+feet. So he argued with himself; and yet a little grain of conscience
+made him feel from time to time that he was wrong, and that he might
+live to repent what he was doing now.</p>
+
+<p>"We will be married before Christmas, Elizabeth," he said one day, when
+he had been at Strathleckie nearly a week. He spoke in a tone of cool
+insistence.</p>
+
+<p>"As you think best," she answered, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you prefer a later date?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "It is all the same to me.
+'If 'twere done at all, 'twere well done quickly,' you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why delay it at all? Why not next week&mdash;next month, at latest?
+What is there to wait for?"</p>
+
+<p>They were sitting in the little school-room, or study, as it was called,
+near the front door&mdash;the very room in which Elizabeth had talked with
+Brian on the night of his arrival at Strathleckie. The remembrance of
+that conversation prompted her reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," she said, in a tone of almost agonised entreaty. "Percival,
+have a little mercy. Not yet&mdash;not yet."</p>
+
+<p>His face hardened: his keen eyes fixed themselves relentlessly upon her
+white face. He was sitting upon the sofa: she standing by the fireplace
+with her hands clasped tightly before her. For a minute he looked at her
+thus, and then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You said just now that it was all the same to you. May I ask what you
+mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need to ask me," she said, resolutely, although, her pale
+lips quivered. "You know what I mean. I will marry you before Christmas,
+if you like; but not with such&mdash;such indecent haste as you propose. Not
+this month, nor next."</p>
+
+<p>"In December then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You promise? Even if this man&mdash;this tutor&mdash;should come back?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I have given you a right to doubt me, Percival," she said.
+"But I have never broken my word&mdash;never! From the first, I only promised
+to try to love you; and, indeed, I tried."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course, I know that I am not a lovable individual," said
+Percival, throwing himself back on the cushions with a savage scowl.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up quickly: there was a bitter word upon her tongue, but she
+refrained from uttering it. The struggle lasted for a moment only; then
+she went over to him, and laid her hand softly upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Percival, are you always going to be so hard upon me?" she said. "I
+know you do not easily forgive, and I have wronged you. Can I do more
+than be sorry for my wrong-doing? I was wrong to object to your wishes.
+I will marry you when you like: you shall decide everything for me now!"</p>
+
+<p>His face had been gloomily averted, but he turned and looked at her as
+she said the last few words, and took both her hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not quite such a brute as you think me, Elizabeth," he answered,
+with some emotion in his voice. "I don't want to make you do what you
+find painful."</p>
+
+<p>"That is nonsense," she said, more decidedly than he had heard her speak
+for many days. "The whole matter is very painful to both of us at
+present. The only alleviation&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is the only alleviation? Why do you hesitate?"</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her serious, clear eyes to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"I hesitated," she said, "because I did not feel sure whether I had the
+right to speak of it as an alleviation. I meant&mdash;the only thing that
+makes life bearable at all is the trying to do right; and, when one has
+failed in doing it, to get back to the right path as soon as possible,
+leaving the sin and misery behind."</p>
+
+<p>He still held her hands, and he looked down at the slender wrists (where
+the blue veins showed so much more distinctly than they used to do) with
+something like a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"If one failure grieves you in this way, Elizabeth, what would you do if
+you had chosen a path from which you could not turn back, although you
+knew that it was wrong? There are many men and women whose lives are
+based upon what you would call, I suppose, wrong-doing."</p>
+
+<p>There was little of his usual sneering emphasis in the words. His face
+had fallen into an expression of trouble and sadness which it did not
+often wear; but there was so much less hardness in its lines than there
+had been of late that Elizabeth felt that she might answer him freely
+and frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there is any path of wrong-doing from which one might not
+turn back, Percival. And it seems to me that the worst misery one could
+go through would be the continuing in any such path; because the
+consciousness of wrong would spoil all the beauty of life and take the
+flavour out of every enjoyment. It would end, I think, by breaking ones
+heart altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"A true woman's view," said Percival, starting up and releasing her
+hands, "but not one that is practicable in the world of men. I suppose
+you think you know one man, at least, who would come up to your ideal in
+that respect?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know several; you amongst them," she replied. "I am sure you would
+not deliberately do a wicked, dishonourable action for the world."</p>
+
+<p>"You have more faith in me than I deserve," he said, walking restlessly
+up and down the room. "I am not so sure&mdash;but of one thing I am quite
+sure, Elizabeth," and he came up to her and put his hands on her
+shoulders, "I am quite sure that you are the best and truest woman that
+ever lived, and I beg your pardon if I seemed for one moment to doubt
+you. Will you grant it to me, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since the beginning of the visit, she looked at him
+gratefully, and even affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to forgive you," she said. "If only I could forgive
+myself!" And then she burst into tears, and Percival forgot his
+ill-humour and his sense of wrong in trying to soothe her into calmness
+again.</p>
+
+<p>This conversation made them both happier. Elizabeth lost her unnatural
+passiveness of demeanour, and looked more like her clear-headed,
+energetic self; and Percival was less exacting and overbearing than he
+had been during the past week. He went back to London with a strong
+conviction that time would give him Elizabeth's heart as well as her
+hand; and that she would learn to forget the unprincipled scoundrel&mdash;so
+Percival termed him&mdash;who had dared to aspire to her love.</p>
+
+<p>The Herons were to return to London in November, and the purchase of
+Elizabeth's trousseau was postponed until then. But other preparations
+were immediately begun: there was a great talk of "settlements" and
+"entail" in the house; and Mr. Colquhoun had some very long and serious
+interviews with his fair client. It need hardly be stated that Mr.
+Colquhoun greatly objected to Miss Murray's marriage with her cousin,
+and applied to him (in strict privacy) not a few of the adjectives which
+Percival had bestowed upon the tutor. But the lawyer was driven to admit
+that Mr. Percival Heron, poor though he might be, showed a very
+disinterested spirit when consulted upon money matters, and that he
+stood firm in his determination that Elizabeth's whole fortune should be
+settled upon herself. He declared also that he was not going to live
+upon his wife's money, and that he should continue to pursue his
+profession of journalism and literature in general after his marriage;
+but at this assertion Mr. Colquhoun shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"It shows a very independent spirit in ye, Mr. Heron," he said, when
+Percival announced his resolve in a somewhat lordly manner; "but I think
+that in six months' time after the marriage, ye'll just agree with me
+that your determination was one that could not be entirely carried out."</p>
+
+<p>"I usually do carry out my determinations, Mr. Colquhoun," said
+Percival, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt, no doubt. It's a determination that reflects credit upon ye,
+Mr. Heron. Ye'll observe that I'm not saying a word against your
+determination," replied Mr. Colquhoun, warily, but with emphasis. "It's
+highly creditable both to Miss Murray and to yourself."</p>
+
+<p>And although Percival felt himself insulted, he could not well say more.</p>
+
+<p>The continuation of his connection with the daily press was the proof
+which he intended to offer to the world of his disinterestedness in
+marrying Elizabeth Murray. He disliked the thought of her wealth, but he
+was of too robust a nature, in spite of his sensitiveness on many
+points, to refuse to marry a woman simply because she was richer than
+himself. In fact, that is a piece of Quixotism not often practised, and
+though Percival would perhaps have been capable of refusing to make an
+offer of marriage to Elizabeth after she had come into her fortune, he
+was not disposed to withdraw that offer because it had turned out a more
+advantageous one for himself than he had expected. It is only fair to
+say that he did not hold Elizabeth to her word on account of her wealth;
+he never once thought of it in that interview with her on the
+river-bank. Selfish as he might be in some things, he was liberal and
+generous to a fault when money was in the question.</p>
+
+<p>It was Mr. Colquhoun who told Mrs. Luttrell of Miss Murray's engagement.
+He was amazed at the look of anger and disappointment that crossed her
+face. "Ay!" she said, bitterly, "I am too late, as I always am. This
+will be a sore blow to Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo!" said the old lawyer. "Was he after Miss Murray too? Not a bad
+notion, either. It would have been a good thing to get the property back
+to the Luttrells. He could have called himself Murray-Luttrell then."</p>
+
+<p>"Too late for that," said Mrs. Luttrell, grimly. "Well, he shall have
+Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite decided in your mind on that point?" queried Mr.
+Colquhoun.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. I'll give you my instructions about the will as soon as you
+like."</p>
+
+<p>"Take time! take time!" said the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"I have taken time. I have thought the matter over in every light, and I
+am quite convinced that what I possess ought to go to Hugo. There is no
+other Luttrell to take Netherglen&mdash;and to a Luttrell Netherglen must
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"I should have thought that you would like better to leave it to Miss
+Murray, who is of your own father's blood," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+cautiously. "She is your second cousin, ye'll remember; and a good girl
+into the bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"A good girl she may be, and a handsome one; and I would gladly have
+seen her the mistress of Netherglen if she were Hugo's wife; but
+Netherglen was never mine, it was my husband's, and though it came to me
+at his death, it shall stay in the Luttrell family, as he meant it to
+do. Elizabeth Murray has the Strathleckie property; that ought to be
+enough for her, especially as she is going to marry a penniless cousin,
+who will perhaps make ducks and drakes of it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo's a fortunate lad," said Mr. Colquhoun, drily, as he seated
+himself at a writing-table, in order to take Mrs. Luttrell's
+instructions. "I hope he may be worthy of his good luck."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo did not seem to consider himself very fortunate when he heard the
+news of Miss Murray's approaching marriage. He looked thoroughly
+disconcerted. Mrs. Luttrell was inclined to think that his affections
+had been engaged more deeply than she knew, and in her hard, unemotional
+way, tried to express some sympathy with him in his loss. It was not a
+matter of the affections with Hugo, however, but his purse. His money
+affairs were much embarrassed: he was beginning to calculate the amount
+that he could wring out of Mrs. Luttrell, and, if she failed him, he had
+made up his mind to marry Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Heron!" he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise and disgust, "I don't
+believe she cares a rap for Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you tell?" said his aunt.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo looked at her, looked down, and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"If you think she liked you better than Mr. Heron," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+in a meditative tone, "something might yet be done to change the course
+of affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Hugo, hastily. "Dear Aunt Margaret, you are too kind. No,
+if she is happy, it is all I ask. I will go to Strathleckie this
+afternoon; perhaps I can then judge better."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want you to do anything dishonourable," said his aunt, "but, if
+Elizabeth likes you best, Hugo, I could speak to Mr. Heron&mdash;the father,
+I mean&mdash;and ascertain whether the engagement is absolutely irrevocable.
+I should like to see you happy as well as Elizabeth Murray."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo sighed, kissed his aunt's hand, and departed&mdash;not to see Elizabeth,
+but Kitty Heron. He felt that if his money difficulties could only be
+settled, he was well out of that proposed marriage with Elizabeth; but
+then money difficulties were not easily settled when one had no money.
+In the meantime, he was free to make love to Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>Percival spent two or three busy weeks in London, and found that hard
+work was the best specific for the low spirits from which he had
+suffered during his stay in Scotland. He heard regularly from Elizabeth,
+and her letters, though not long, and somewhat coldly expressed, gave
+him complete satisfaction. He noticed with some surprise that she spoke
+a good deal of Hugo Luttrell; he seemed to be always with them, and the
+distant cousinship existing between him and Elizabeth had been made the
+pretext for a good deal of apparent familiarity. He was "Hugo" now to
+the whole family; he had been "Mr. Luttrell" only when Percival left
+Strathleckie.</p>
+
+<p>He was sitting alone in his "den," as he nicknamed it, late in the
+afternoon of a November day, when a low knock at the door made itself
+faintly heard. Percival was smoking; having come in cold and tired, he
+had wheeled an arm-chair in front of the fire, and was sitting with his
+feet on the bars of the grate, whereby a faint odour of singed leather
+was gradually mingling with the fumes of the very strong tobacco that he
+loved. His green shaded lamp stood on a small table beside him, throwing
+its light full upon the pages of the French novel that he had taken up
+to read (it was "Spiridion" and he was reading it for about the
+twentieth time); books and newspapers, as usual, strewed the floor, the
+tables, and the chairs; well-filled book-shelves lined three of the
+walls; the only ornaments were the photographs of two or three actors
+and actresses, some political caricatures pinned to the walls, a couple
+of foils and boxing-gloves, and on the mantelpiece a choice collection
+of pipes. The atmosphere was thick, the aspect of the furniture dusty:
+Percival Heron's own appearance was not at that moment calculated to
+insure admiration. His hair was absolutely dishevelled; truth compels us
+to admit that he had not shaved that day, and that his chin was
+consequently of a blue-black colour and bristly surface, which could not
+be called attractive: his clothes were shabby to the last degree, frayed
+at the cuffs, and very shiny on the shoulders. Heron was a poor man, and
+had a good deal of the Bohemian in his constitution: hence came a
+certain contempt for appearances, which sometimes offended his friend
+Vivian, as well as a real inability to spend money on clothes and
+furniture without getting into debt. And Percival, extravagant as he
+sometimes seemed, was never in debt: he had seen too much of it in his
+father's house not to be alive to its inconveniences, and he had had the
+moral courage to keep a resolution made in early boyhood, that he would
+never owe money to any man. Hence came the shabbiness&mdash;and also,
+perhaps, some of the arrogance&mdash;of which his friends complained.</p>
+
+<p>Owing partly therefore to the shabbiness, partly to the untidiness,
+partly to the very comfort of the slightly overheated room, the visitor
+who entered it did not form a very high opinion of its occupant.
+Percival's frown, and momentary stare of astonishment, were, perhaps,
+enough to disconcert a person not already very sure of his reception.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I dreaming?" muttered Heron to himself, as he cast the book to the
+ground, and rose to his feet. "One would think that George Sand's
+visionary young monk had walked straight out of the book into my room.
+Begging, I suppose. Good evening. You have called on behalf of some
+charity, I suppose? Come nearer to the fire; it is a cold night."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger&mdash;a young man in a black cassock&mdash;bowed courteously, and
+seated himself in the chair that Percival pointed out. He then spoke in
+English, but with a foreign accent, which did not sound unpleasantly in
+Heron's ears.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not come on behalf of any charity," he said, "but I come in the
+interests of justice."</p>
+
+<p>"The same thing, I suppose, in the long run," Percival remarked to
+himself. "But what a fine face the beggar has! He's been ill lately, or
+else he is half-starved&mdash;shall I give him some whisky and a pipe? I
+suppose he would feel insulted!"</p>
+
+<p>While he made these reflections, he replied politely that he was always
+pleased to serve the interests of justice, offered his guest a glass of
+wine (chiefly because he looked so thin and pale)&mdash;an offer which was
+smilingly rejected&mdash;then crossed his legs, looked up to the ceiling, and
+awaited in silent resignation the pitiful story which he was sure that
+this young monk had come to tell.</p>
+
+<p>But, after a troubled glance at Mr. Heron's face, (which had a
+peculiarly reckless and defiant expression by reason of the tossed hair,
+the habitual frown and the bristles on his chin), the visitor began to
+speak in a very different strain from the one which Percival had
+expected.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come," he said, "on affairs which concern yourself and your
+family; and, therefore, I most heartily beg your pardon if I appear to
+you an insolent intruder, speaking of matters which it does not concern
+me to know."</p>
+
+<p>His formal English sentences were correct enough, but seemed to be
+constructed with some difficulty. Percival's eyes came down from the
+ceiling and rested upon his thin, pale face with lazy curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have thought that my affairs would be particularly
+interesting to you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But there you are wrong, they interest me very much," said the young
+man, with much vivacity. His dark eyes glowed like coals of fire as he
+proceeded. "There is scarcely anyone whose fortunes are of so much
+significance to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to you," murmured Percival, with lifted eyebrows;
+"but I hardly understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will understand quite soon enough, Mr. Heron," said the visitor,
+quietly. "I have news for you that may not be agreeable. I believe that
+you have a cousin, a Miss Murray, who lately succeeded to a great
+fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but what has that to do with you, if you please?" demanded Heron,
+his amiability vanishing into space.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger lifted his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Allow me one moment. She inherited this fortune on the death of a Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, I think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly&mdash;but what&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Heron. I come to my piece of news at last. Miss Murray
+has no right to the property which she is enjoying. Mr. Brian Luttrell
+is alive!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A REVELATION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Percival started from his chair. His first exclamation was a rather
+profane one, for which the monk immediately reproved him. He did not
+take much notice of the reproof: he stared hard at the young man for a
+minute or two, unconsciously repeated the objectionable expression, and
+then took one or two turns up and down the room. After which he came to
+a standstill, thrust his hands into his pockets, and allowed his
+features to relax into a sardonically-triumphant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't tell me a thing which I should be better pleased to hear,"
+he said. "But I don't believe it's true."</p>
+
+<p>This was rude, but the visitor was not disconcerted. He looked at
+Percival's masterful face with interest, and a little suspicion, and
+answered quietly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know exactly what evidence will satisfy you, sir. Of course,
+you will require evidence. I, myself, Bernardino Vasari of San Stefano,
+can testify that I saw Brian Luttrell in our monastery on the 27th day
+of November, some days after his reputed death. I can account for all
+his time after that date, and I can tell you where he is to be found at
+present. His cousin, Hugo Luttrell, has already recognised him, and,
+although he is much changed, I fancy that there would be small doubt
+about his identification."</p>
+
+<p>"But why, in Heaven's name, did he allow himself to be thought dead?"
+cried Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, probably, the circumstances attending his brother's death?"
+said Dino, gently. "These, and a cruel letter from Mrs. Luttrell, made
+him resolve to take advantage of an accident in which his companions
+were killed. He made his way to a little inn on the southern side of the
+Alps, and thence to our monastery, where I recognised him as the
+gentleman whom I had previously seen travelling in Germany. I had had
+some conversation with him, and he had interested me&mdash;I remembered him
+well."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he give his name as Brian Luttrell then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I accosted him by it, and he begged me at once not to do so, but to
+give him another name."</p>
+
+<p>"What name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you the name presently, Mr. Heron. He remained in the
+monastery for some months: first ill of a fever on the brain, then,
+after his recovery, as a teacher to our young pupils. When he grew
+stronger he became tired of our peaceful life; he left the monastery and
+wandered from place to place in Italy. But he had no money: he began to
+think of work. He was learned: he could teach: he thought that he might
+be a tutor. Shall I go on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" said Percival, below his breath. He had actually turned
+pale, and was biting his moustache savagely. "Go on, sir!" he thundered,
+looking at Dino from beneath his knitted brows. "Tell me the rest as
+quickly as you can."</p>
+
+<p>"He met with an English family," Dino continued, watching with keen
+interest the effect of his words. "They were kind to him: they took him,
+without character, without recommendations, and allowed him to teach
+their children. He did not know who they were: he thought that they were
+rich people, and that the young lady who was so dutiful to them, and
+cared so tenderly for their children, was poor like himself, a dependent
+like himself. He dared, therefore&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He lies and you lie!" Percival burst out, furiously. "How dare you come
+to me with a tale of this sort? He must have known! It was simply a base
+deception in order to get back his estate. If I had him here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you had him here you would listen to him, Mr. Heron," said Dino, in
+a perfectly unmoved voice, "as you will listen to me when the first
+shock of your surprise is over."</p>
+
+<p>"Your garb, I suppose, protects you," said Percival, sharply. "Else I
+would throw you out of the window to join your accomplice outside. I
+daresay he is there. I don't believe a word of your story. May I trouble
+you to go?"</p>
+
+<p>"This conduct is unworthy of you, sir," said Dino. "Brian Luttrell's
+identity will not be disproved by bluster. There is not the least doubt
+about it. Mr. Brian Luttrell is alive and has been teaching in your
+father's family for the last few months under the name of John
+Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is a scoundrel," said Percival. He threw himself into his chair
+again, with his feet stretched out before him, and his hands still
+thrust deep into his trousers' pockets. His face was white with rage. "I
+always thought that he was a rogue; and, if this story is true, he has
+proved himself one."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" said Dino, quietly. "By living in poverty when he might have been
+rich? By allowing others to take what was legally his own, because he
+had a scruple about his moral right to it? If you knew all Brian
+Luttrell's story you would know that his only fault has been that of
+over-conscientiousness, over-scrupulousness. But you do not know the
+story, perhaps you never will, and, therefore, you cannot judge."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want to judge. I have nothing to do with Mr. Stretton and his
+story," said Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not hear. You are impostors, the pair of you."</p>
+
+<p>Dino's eyes flashed and his lips compressed themselves. His face, thin
+from his late illness, assumed a wonderful sternness of expression.</p>
+
+<p>"This is folly," he said, with a cold serenity of tone which impressed
+Percival in spite of himself. "You will have to hear part of his story
+sooner or later, Mr. Heron; for your own sake, for Miss Murray's sake,
+you had better hear it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, my good man," said Percival, sitting up, and regarding his
+visitor with contemptuous disgust, "don't go bringing Miss Murray's name
+into this business, for, if you do, I'll call a policeman and give you
+in charge for trying to extort money on false pretences, and you may
+thank your priest's dress, or whatever it is, that I don't kick you out
+of the house. Do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said Dino, mildly, but with great dignity, "have I asked you for
+a single penny?"</p>
+
+<p>Heron looked at him as if he would like to carry out the latter part of
+his threat, but the young man was so frail, so thin, so feeble, that he
+felt suddenly ashamed of having threatened him. He rose, planted his
+back firmly against the mantelpiece, and pointed significantly to the
+door. "Go!" he said, briefly. "And don't come back."</p>
+
+<p>"If I go," said Dino, rising from his chair, "I shall take the express
+train to Scotland at eight o'clock to-night, and I shall see Miss Murray
+to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>The shot told. A sort of quiver passed over Percival's set face. He
+muttered an angry ejaculation. "I'll see you d&mdash;&mdash;d first," he said.
+"You'll do nothing of the kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Then will you hear my story?"</p>
+
+<p>Heron paused. He could have ground his teeth with fury; but he was quite
+alive to the difficulties of the situation. If this young monk went with
+his story to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth believed it, what would become of
+her fidelity to him? With his habitual cynicism, he told himself that no
+woman would keep her word, if by doing so she lost a fortune and a lover
+both. He must hear this story, if only to prevent its being told to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said at last, taking his pipe from the mantelshelf, "I'll
+listen. Be so good as to make your story short. I have no time to
+waste." And then he rammed the tobacco into the bowl with his thumb in a
+suggestively decisive manner, lighted it, and proceeded to puff at his
+pipe with a sort of savage vigour. He sent out great clouds of smoke,
+which speedily filled the air and rendered speaking difficult to Dino,
+whose lungs had become delicate in consequence of his wound. But
+Percival was rather pleased than otherwise to inconvenience him.</p>
+
+<p>"There are several reasons," the young man began, "why Brian Luttrell
+wished to be thought dead. He had killed his brother by accident, and
+Mrs. Luttrell thought that there had been malice as well as carelessness
+in the deed. That was one reason. His mother's harshness preyed upon his
+mind and drove him almost to melancholy madness. Mrs. Luttrell made
+another statement, and made it in a way that convinced him that she had
+reasons for making it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you cut it short?" said Percival. "It's all very interesting, no
+doubt: but as I don't care a hang what Brian Luttrell said, or thought,
+or did, I should prefer to have as little of it as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I must tell my story in my own
+way," answered Dino. The flash of his eye and the increased colour in
+his cheek showed that Heron's words irritated him, but his voice was
+carefully calm and cool. "Mrs. Luttrell's statement was this: that Brian
+Luttrell was not her son at all. I have in my possession the letter that
+she wrote to him on the subject, assuring him confidently that he was
+the child of her Italian nurse, Vincenza Vasari, and that her own child
+had died in infancy, and was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano.
+Here is the letter, if you like to assure yourself that what I have said
+is true."</p>
+
+<p>Percival made a satirical little bow of refusal. But a look of attention
+had come into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian believed this story absolutely, although he had then no proof of
+its truth," continued Dino. "She told him that the Vasari family lived
+at San Stefano&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Vasari! Relations of your own, I presume," interposed Percival, with
+ironical politeness.</p>
+
+<p>"And to San Stefano, therefore, he was making his way when the accident
+on the mountain occurred," said Dino, utterly disregarding the
+interruption. "There were inquiries made about him at San Stefano soon
+after the news of his supposed death arrived in England, for Mrs.
+Luttrell guessed that he would go thither if he were still living; but
+he had not then appeared at the monastery. He did not arrive at San
+Stefano, as I said before, until a fortnight after the date of the
+accident; he had been ill, and was footsore and weary. When he recovered
+from the brain-fever which prostrated him as soon as he reached the
+monastery, he told his whole story to the Prior, Padre Cristoforo of San
+Stefano, a man whose character is far beyond suspicion. I have also
+Padre Cristoforo's statement, if you would like to see it."</p>
+
+<p>Percival shook his head. But his pipe had gone out; he was listening now
+with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"As it happened," the narrator went on, "Padre Cristoforo was already
+interested in the matter, because the mother of Mrs. Luttrell's nurse,
+Vincenza, had, before her death, confided to him her suspicions, and
+those of Vincenza's husband concerning the child that she had nursed.
+There was a child living in the village of San Stefano, a child who had
+been brought up as Vincenza's child, but Vincenza had told her this boy
+was the true Brian Luttrell, and that her son had been taken back to
+Scotland as Mrs. Luttrell's child."</p>
+
+<p>"I see your drift now," remarked Percival, quietly re-lighting his pipe.
+"Where is this Italian Brian Luttrell to be found?"</p>
+
+<p>"Need I tell you? Should I come here with this story if I were not the
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>He asked the question almost sadly, but with a simplicity of manner
+which showed him to be free from any desire to produce any theatrical
+effect. He waited for a moment, looking steadily at Percival, whose
+darkening brow and kindling eyes displayed rapidly-rising anger.</p>
+
+<p>"I was called Dino Vasari at San Stefano," he continued, "but I believe
+that my rightful name is Brian Luttrell, and that Vincenza Vasari
+changed the children during an illness of Mrs. Luttrell's."</p>
+
+<p>"And that, therefore," said Percival, slowly, "you are the owner of the
+Strathleckie property&mdash;or, as it is generally called, the Luttrell
+property&mdash;now possessed by Miss Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>Percival puffed away at his pipe for a minute or two, and surveyed him
+from head to foot with angry, contemptuous eyes. The only thing that
+prevented him from letting loose a storm of rage upon Dino's head was
+the young man's air of grave simplicity and good faith. He did not look
+like an intentional impostor, such as Percival Heron would gladly have
+believed him to be.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," inquired Heron, after a momentary pause, "what the
+penalties are for attempting to extort money, or for passing yourself
+off under a false name in order to get property? Did you ever hear of
+the Claimant and Portland Prison? I would advise you to acquaint
+yourself with these details before you come to me again. You may be more
+fool than knave; but you may carry your foolery or your knavery
+elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>Dino smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better hear the rest of my story before you indulge in these
+idle threats, Mr. Heron. I know perfectly well what I am doing."</p>
+
+<p>There was a tone of lofty assurance, almost of superiority, in Dino's
+calm voice, which galled Percival, because he felt that it had the power
+of subduing him a little. Before he had thought of a rejoinder, the
+young Benedictine resumed his story.</p>
+
+<p>"You will say rightly enough that these were not proofs. So Padre
+Cristoforo said when he kept me in the monastery until I came to years
+of discretion. So he told Brian Luttrell when he came to San Stefano.
+But since that day new witnesses have arisen. Vincenza Vasari was not
+dead: she had only disappeared for a time. She is now found, and she is
+prepared to swear to the truth of the story that I have told you. Mrs.
+Luttrell's suspicions, the statement made by Vincenza's husband and
+mother, the confession of another woman who was Vincenza's accomplice,
+all form corroborative evidence which will, I think, be quite sufficient
+to prove the case. So, at least, Messrs. Brett and Grattan assure me,
+and they have gone carefully into the matter, and have the original
+papers in their possession."</p>
+
+<p>"Brett and Grattan!" repeated Percival. He knew the names. "Do you say
+that Brett and Grattan have taken it up? You must have managed matters
+cleverly: Brett and Grattan are a respectable firm."</p>
+
+<p>"You are at liberty, of course, to question them. You may, perhaps,
+credit their statement."</p>
+
+<p>"I will certainly go to them and expose this imposture," said Percival,
+haughtily. "I suppose you have no objection," with a hardly-concealed
+sneer, "to go with me to them at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the least. I am quite ready."</p>
+
+<p>Percival was rather staggered by his willingness to accompany him. He
+laid down his pipe, which he had been holding mechanically for some time
+in his hand, and made a step towards the door. But as he reached it Dino
+spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish, Mr. Heron, that before you go to these lawyers you would listen
+to me a little longer. If for a moment or two you would divest yourself
+of your suspicions, if you would for a moment or two assume (only for
+the sake of argument) the truth of my story, I could tell you then why I
+came. As yet, I have scarcely approached the object of my errand."</p>
+
+<p>"Money, I suppose!" said Percival. "Truth will out, sooner or later."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron," said Dino, "are we to approach this subject as gentlemen or
+not? When I ask you for money, you will be at liberty to insult me, not
+before."</p>
+
+<p>Again that tone of quiet superiority! Percival broke out angrily:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I will listen to nothing more from you. If you like to go with me to
+Brett and Grattan, we will go now; if not, you are a liar and an
+impostor, and I shall be happy to kick you out into the street."</p>
+
+<p>Dino raised his head; a quick, involuntary movement ran through his
+frame, as if it thrilled with anger at the insulting words. Then his
+head sank; he quietly folded his arms across his breast, and stood as he
+used to stand when awaiting an order or an admonition from the
+Prior&mdash;tranquil, submissive, silent, but neither ill-humoured nor
+depressed. The very silence and submission enraged Percival the more.</p>
+
+<p>"If you were of Scotch or English blood," he said, sharply, pausing as
+he crossed the room to look over his shoulder at the motionless figure
+in the black robe, with folded arms and bent head, "you would resent the
+words I have hastily used. That you don't do so is proof positive to my
+mind that you are no Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"If I am a Luttrell, I trust that I am a Christian, too," said Dino,
+tranquilly. "It is a monk's duty&mdash;a monk's privilege&mdash;to bear insult."</p>
+
+<p>"Detestable hypocrisy!" growled Percival to himself, as he stepped to
+the door and ostentatiously locked it, putting the key into his pocket,
+before he went into the adjoining bed-room to change his coat. "We'll
+soon see what Brett and Grattan say to him. Confound the fellow! Who
+would think that that smooth saintly face covered so much insolence! I
+should like to give him a good hiding. I should, indeed."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the sitting-room, unlocked the door, and ordered a
+servant to fetch a hansom-cab. Then he occupied himself by setting some
+of the books straight on the shelves, humming a tune to himself
+meanwhile, as if nobody else were in the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron," Dino said at last, "I came to propose a compromise. Will
+you listen to it yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Percival, drily. "I'll listen to nothing until I have seen
+Brett. If your case is as good as you declare it is, he will convince
+me; and then you can talk about compromises. I'm not in the humour for
+compromises just now."</p>
+
+<p>He noticed that Dino's eyes were fixed earnestly upon something on his
+writing-table. He drew near enough to see that it was a cabinet
+photograph of Elizabeth Murray in a brass frame&mdash;a likeness which had
+just been taken, and which was considered remarkably good. The head and
+shoulders only were seen: the stately pose of the head, the slightly
+upturned profile, the rippling mass of hair resting on the fine
+shoulders, round which a shawl had been loosely draped&mdash;these
+constituted the chief points of a portrait which some people said was
+"idealised," but which, in the opinion of the Herons, only showed
+Elizabeth at her best. Percival coolly took up the photograph and
+marched away with it to another table, on which he laid it face
+downwards. He did not choose to have the Italian impostor scrutinising
+Elizabeth Murray's face. Dino understood the action, and liked him for
+it better than he had done as yet.</p>
+
+<p>The drive to Messrs. Brett and Grattan's office was accomplished in
+perfect silence. The office was just closing, but Mr. Brett&mdash;the partner
+with whom Percival happened to be acquainted&mdash;was there, and received
+the visitors very civilly.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to know this&mdash;this gentleman, Mr. Brett?" began Percival,
+somewhat stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have that pleasure," said Mr. Brett, who was a big,
+red-faced, genial-looking man, as much unlike the typical lawyer of the
+novel and the stage, as a fox-hunting squire would have been. But Mr.
+Brett's reputation was assured. "I think I have that pleasure," he
+repeated, rubbing his hands, and looking as though he was enjoying the
+interview very much. "I have seen him before once or twice, have I not?
+eh, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr.&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is just the point," said Percival. "Will you have the goodness
+to tell me the name of this&mdash;this person?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brett stopped rubbing his hands, and looked from Dino to Percival,
+and back again to Dino. The look said plainly enough, "What shall I tell
+him? How much does he know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to have no secrets from Mr. Heron," said Dino, simply. "He is
+the gentleman who is going to marry Miss Elizabeth Murray, and, of
+course, he is interested in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, of course, of course. I don't know that you ought to have brought
+him here," said Mr. Brett, shaking his head waggishly at Dino. "Against
+rules, you know: against custom: against precedent. But I believe you
+want to arrange matters pleasantly amongst yourselves. Well, Mr. Heron,
+I don't often like to commit myself to a statement, but, under the
+circumstances, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe this
+gentleman now before you, who called himself Vasari in Italy, is in
+reality&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Percival, feeling his heart sink within him and speaking
+more impatiently than usual in consequence, "Well, Mr. Brett?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is in reality," said Mr. Brett, with great deliberation and emphasis,
+"the second son of Edward and Margaret Luttrell, stolen from them in
+infancy&mdash;Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>DINO'S PROPOSITION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Dino turned away. He would not see the discomfiture plainly depicted
+upon Percival's face. Mr. Brett smiled pleasantly, and rubbed his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I see that it's a shock to you, Mr. Heron," he said. "Well, we can
+understand that. It's natural. Of course you thought Miss Murray a rich
+woman, as we all did, and it is a little disappointing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your remarks are offensive, sir, most offensive," said Percival, whose
+ire was thoroughly roused by this address. "I will bid you and your
+client good-evening. I have no more to say."</p>
+
+<p>He made for the door, but Dino interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my turn now, I think, Mr. Heron. You insisted upon my coming
+here: I must insist now upon your seeing the documents I have to show
+you, and hearing what I have to say." And with a sharp click he turned
+the key in the lock, and stood with his back against the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut, tut!" said Mr. Brett; "there is no need to lock the door, no
+need of violence, Mr. Luttrell." In spite of himself, Percival started
+when he heard that name applied to the young monk before him. "Let the
+matter be settled amicably, by all means. You come from the young lady;
+you have authority to act for her, have you, Mr. Heron?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Percival, sullenly. "She knows nothing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"This is an informal interview," said Dino. "Mr. Heron refused to
+believe that you had undertaken my case, Mr. Brett, until he heard the
+fact from your own lips. I trust that he is now satisfied on that point,
+at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Brett is an old acquaintance of mine. I have no reason to doubt his
+sincerity," said Percival, shortly and stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>If Dino had hoped for anything like an apology, he was much mistaken.
+Percival's temper was rampant still.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Dino, quitting the door, with the key in his hand, "we may
+as well proceed to look at those papers of mine, Mr. Brett. There can be
+no objection to Mr. Heron's seeing them, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer made some objections, but ended by producing from a black
+box, a bundle of papers, amongst which were the signed and witnessed
+confessions of Vincenza Vasari and a woman named Rosa Naldi, who had
+helped in the exchange of the children. Mr. Brett would not allow these
+papers to go out of his own hands, but he showed them to Percival,
+expounded their contents, and made comments upon the evidence, remarking
+amongst other things that Vincenza Vasari herself was expected in
+England in a week or two, Padre Cristoforo having taken charge of her,
+and undertaken to produce her at the fitting time.</p>
+
+<p>"The evidence seems to be very conclusive," said Mr. Brett, with a
+pleasant smile. "In fact, Miss Murray has no case at all, and I dare say
+her legal adviser will know what advice to give her, Mr. Heron. Is there
+any question that you would like to ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Percival, rising from his chair and glancing at Dino, who had
+stood by without speaking, throughout the lawyer's exposition of the
+papers. Then, very ungraciously: "I suppose I owe this gentleman in
+ecclesiastical attire&mdash;I hardly know what to call him&mdash;some sort of
+apology. I see that I was mistaken in what I said."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir, I am sure Mr. Luttrell will make allowance for words
+spoken in the heat of the moment. No doubt it was a shock to you," said
+Mr. Brett, with ready sympathy, for which Percival hated him in his
+heart. His brow contracted, and he might have said something uncivil had
+Dino not come forward with a few quiet words, which diverted him from
+his purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"If Mr. Heron thinks that he was mistaken," he said, "he will not refuse
+now to hear what I wished to say before we left his house. It will be
+simple justice to listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," answered Percival, frowning and looking down. "I will
+listen."</p>
+
+<p>"Could we, for a few moments only, have a private room?" said Dino to
+Mr. Brett, with some embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't want me again?" said that cheerful gentleman, locking his
+desk. "Then, if you won't think me uncivil, I'll leave you altogether.
+My clerk is in the outer room, if you require him. I have a dinner
+engagement at eight o'clock which I should like to keep. Good-bye, Mr.
+Heron; sorry for your disappointment. Good-bye, Mr. Luttrell; I wish you
+wouldn't don that monkish dress of yours. It makes you look so
+un-English, you know. And, after all, you are not a monk, and never will
+be."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be too sure of that," said Dino, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brett departed, and the two young men were left together. Percival
+was standing, vexation and impatience visible in every line of his
+handsome features. He gave his shoulders a shrug as the door closed
+behind Mr. Brett, and turned to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Mr. Heron," said Dino, "will you listen to my proposition?" He
+spoke in Italian, not English, and Percival replied in the same
+language.</p>
+
+<p>"I have said I would listen."</p>
+
+<p>"It refers to Brian Luttrell&mdash;the man who has borne that name so long
+that I think he should still be called by it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You have proved to me that Mr. Brett believes your story, and you
+have shown me that your case is a plausible one; but you have not proved
+to me that the man Stretton is identical with Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not necessary that that should be proved just now. It can be
+proved; but we will pass over that point, if you please. I am sorry that
+what I have to say trenches somewhat on your private and personal
+affairs, Mr. Heron. I can only entreat your patience for a little time.
+Your marriage with Miss Murray&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Need that be dragged into the discussion?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is exactly the point on which I wish to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed." Percival pulled the lawyer's arm-chair towards him, seated
+himself, and pulled his moustache. "I understand. You are Mr. Stretton's
+emissary!"</p>
+
+<p>"His emissary! No." The denial was sharply spoken. It was with a
+softening touch of emotion that Dino added&mdash;"I doubt whether he will
+easily forgive me. I have betrayed him. He does not dream that I would
+tell his secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you friendly with him, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are as brothers."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"In London."</p>
+
+<p>"Not gone to America then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. He starts in a few days, if not delayed. I am trying to keep
+him back."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that his pretence of going was a lie!" muttered Percival. "Of
+course, he never intended to leave the country!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," said Dino, who had heard more than was quite meant for his
+ears. "The word 'lie' should never be uttered in connection with any of
+Brian's words or actions. He is the soul of honour."</p>
+
+<p>Percival sneered bitterly. "As is shown&mdash;&mdash;" he began, and then stopped
+short. But Dino understood.</p>
+
+<p>"As is shown," he said, steadily, "by the fact that when he learnt,
+almost in the same moment, that Miss Murray was the person who had
+inherited his property, and that she was promised in marriage to
+yourself, he left the house in which she lived, and resolved to see her
+face no more. Was there no sense of honour shown in this? For he loved
+her as his own soul."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word," explained Percival, with unconcealed annoyance, "you
+seem to know a great deal about Miss Murray's affairs and mine,
+Mr.&mdash;Mr.&mdash;Vasari. I am flattered by the interest they excite; but I
+don't see exactly what good is to come of it. I knew of Mr. Stretton's
+proposal long ago: a very insolent one, I considered it."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me ask you a plain question, Mr. Heron. You love Miss Murray, do
+you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I do," said Heron, haughtily, "it is not a question that I am
+disposed to answer at present."</p>
+
+<p>"You love Miss Murray," said Dino, as if the question had been answered
+in the affirmative, "and there is nothing on earth so dear to me as my
+friend Brian Luttrell. It may seem strange to you that it should be so;
+but it is true. I have no wish to take his place in Scotland&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then what are you doing in Mr. Brett's office?" asked Percival,
+bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Dino showed some embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been to blame," he said, hanging his head. "I was forced into
+this position&mdash;by others; and I had not the strength to free myself. But
+I will not wrong Brian any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"If your story is proved, it will not be wronging Brian or anybody else
+to claim your rights. Take the Luttrell property, by all means, if it
+belongs to you. We shall do very well without it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Dino, almost in a whisper, "you will do very well without
+it, if you are sure that she loves you."</p>
+
+<p>Percival sat erect in his chair and looked Dino in the face with an
+expression which, for the first time, was devoid of scorn or anger. It
+was almost one of dread; it was certainly the look of one who prepares
+himself to receive a shock.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you to tell me?" he said, in an unusually quiet voice. "Is
+she deceiving me? Is she corresponding with him? Have they made you
+their confidant?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," cried Dino, earnestly. "How can you think so of a woman with a
+face like hers, of a man with a soul like Brian's? Even he has told me
+little; but he has told me more than he knows&mdash;and I have guessed the
+rest. If I had not known before, your face would have told me all."</p>
+
+<p>"Tricked!" said Percival, falling back in his chair with a gesture of
+disgust. "I might have known as much. Well, sir, you are wrong. And Miss
+Murray's feelings are not to be canvassed in this way."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," said Dino; "we will not speak of her. We will speak of
+Brian, of my friend. He is not happy. He is very brave, but he is
+unhappy, too. Are we to rob him of both the things which might make his
+happiness? Are you to marry the woman that he loves, and am I to take to
+myself his inheritance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly to be called his inheritance, I think," said Percival, in a
+parenthetic way, "if he was the child of one Vincenza Vasari, and not of
+the Luttrells."</p>
+
+<p>"I have my proposals to make," said Dino again lowering his voice. A
+nervous flush crept up to his forehead: his lips twitched behind the
+thin fingers with which he had partly covered them: the fingers
+trembled, too. Percival noted these signs of emotion without seeming to
+do so: he waited with some curiosity for the proposition. It startled
+him when it came. "I have been thinking that it would be better," said
+Dino, so simply and naturally that one would never have supposed that he
+was indicating a path of stern self-sacrifice, "if I were to withdraw
+all my claims to the estate, and you to relinquish Miss Murray's hand to
+Brian, then things would fall into their proper places, and he would not
+go to America."</p>
+
+<p>Percival stared at him for a full minute before he seemed quite to
+understand all that was implied in this proposal; then he burst into a
+fit of scornful laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"This is too absurd!" he cried. "Am I to give her up tamely because Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, as you call him, wishes to marry her? I am not so
+anxious to secure Mr. Brian Luttrell's happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"But you wish to secure Miss Murray's, do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival became suddenly silent. Dino went on persuasively.</p>
+
+<p>"I care little for the money and the lands which they say would be mine.
+My greatest wish in life is to become a monk. That is why I put on the
+gown that I used to wear, although I have taken no vows upon me yet, but
+I came to you in the spirit of one to whom earthly things are dead. Let
+me give up this estate to Brian, and make him happy with the woman that
+he loves. When he is married to Elizabeth you shall never see my face
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"This is your proposition?" said Percival, after a little pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"If I give up Elizabeth"&mdash;he forgot that he had not meant to call her by
+her Christian name in Dino Vasari's presence&mdash;"you will give up your
+claim to the property?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I refuse, what will you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fight the matter out by the help of the lawyers," said Dino, with an
+irrepressible flash of his dark eyes. And then there was another pause,
+during which Percival knitted his brows and gazed into the fire, and
+Dino never took his eyes from the other's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I refuse," said Percival at last, getting up and walking about
+the room, with an air of being more angry than he really was. "I will
+have none of your crooked Italian ways. Fair play is the best way of
+managing this matter. I refuse to carry out my share of this 'amicable
+arrangement,' as Brett would call it. Let us fight it out. Every man for
+himself, and the devil take the hindmost."</p>
+
+<p>The last sentence was an English one.</p>
+
+<p>"But what satisfaction will the fight give to anybody?" said Dino,
+earnestly. "For myself&mdash;I may gain the estate&mdash;I probably shall do
+so&mdash;and what use shall I make of it? I might give it, perhaps, to Brian,
+but what pleasure would it be to him if she married you? Miss Murray
+will be left in poverty."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you think she will care for that? Do you think I should care?"</p>
+
+<p>"Money is a good thing: it is not well to despise it," said Dino. "Think
+what you are doing. If you refuse my proposition you deprive Miss Murray
+of her estate, and&mdash;I leave you to decide whether you deprive her of her
+happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray can refuse me if she chooses," said Percival, shortly. "I
+should be a great fool if I handed her over at your recommendation to a
+man that I know nothing about. Besides, you could not do it. This
+Italian friend of yours, this Prior of San Stefano, would not let the
+matter fall through. He and Brett would bring forward the witnesses&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Dino turned his eyes slowly upon him with a curiously subtle look.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said. "I have received news to-day which puts the matter
+completely in my own hands. Vincenza Vasari is dead: Rosa Naldi is
+dying. They were in a train when a railway accident took place. They
+will never be able to appear as witnesses."</p>
+
+<p>"But they made depositions&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I believe these depositions would establish the case. But
+depositions are written upon paper, and hearsay evidence is not
+admitted. Nobody could prove it, if I did not wish it to be proved."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt whether it could be proved at all," said Percival,
+hesitatingly. "Of course, it would make Miss Murray uncomfortable. And
+if that other Brian Luttrell is living still, the money would go back to
+him. Would he divide it with you, do you think, if he got it, even as
+you would share it all with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so," answered Dino. "But I should not want it&mdash;unless it were
+to give to the monastery; and San Stefano is already rich. A monk has no
+wants."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am not a monk. There lies the unfairness of your proposal. You
+give up what you care for very little: I am to give up what is dearer
+than the whole world to me. No; I won't do it. It's absurd."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this your answer, Mr. Heron?" said Dino. "Will you sacrifice Brian's
+happiness&mdash;I say nothing of her's, for you understand her best&mdash;for your
+own?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will," Percival declared, roundly. "No man is called upon to
+give up his life for another without good reason. Your friend is nothing
+to me. I'll get what I can out of the world for myself. It is little
+enough, but I cannot be expected to surrender it for some ridiculous
+notion of unselfishness. I never professed to be unselfish in my life.
+Mr. Stretton is a man to whom I owe a grudge. I acknowledge it."</p>
+
+<p>Dino sighed heavily. The shade of disappointment upon his face was so
+deep that Heron felt some pity for him&mdash;all the more because he believed
+that the monk was destined to deeper disappointment still. He turned to
+him with almost a friendly look.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't expect extraordinary motives from an ordinary man like me,"
+he said. "I must say in all fairness that you have made a generous
+proposal. If I spoke too violently and hastily, I hope you will overlook
+it. I was rather beside myself with rage&mdash;though not with the sort of
+regret which Mr. Brett kindly attributes to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I understood that," said Dino.</p>
+
+<p>By a sudden impulse Percival held out his hand. It was a strong
+testimony to Dino's earnestness and simplicity of character that the two
+parted friends after such a stormy interview.</p>
+
+<p>As they went out of the office together Percival said, abruptly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you staying?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino named the place.</p>
+
+<p>"With the man you call Brian Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>"With Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the next thing you mean to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must tell Brian that I have betrayed his secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he won't be very angry with you for that!" laughed Percival.</p>
+
+<p>Dino shook his head. He was not so sure.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they had separated, Percival went off at a swinging pace for
+a long walk. It was his usual way of getting rid of annoyance or
+excitement; and he was vexed to find that he could not easily shake off
+the effects that his conversation with Dino Vasari had produced upon his
+mind. The unselfishness, the devotion, of this man&mdash;younger than
+himself, with a brilliant future before him if only he chose to take
+advantage of it&mdash;appealed powerfully to his imagination. He tried to
+laugh at it: he called Dino hard names&mdash;"Quixotic fool," "dreamer," and
+"enthusiast"&mdash;but he could not forget that an ideal of conduct had been
+presented to his eyes, which was far higher than any which he should
+have thought possible for himself, and by a man upon whose profession of
+faith and calling he looked with profound contempt.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to disbelieve the story that he had been told. He tried hard to
+think that the man whom Elizabeth loved could not be Brian Luttrell. He
+strove to convince himself that Elizabeth would be happier with him than
+with the man she loved. Last of all he struggled desperately with the
+conviction that it was his highest duty to tell her the whole story, set
+her free, and let Brian marry her if he chose. With the respective
+claims of Dino, Brian, and Elizabeth to the estate, he felt that he had
+no need to interfere. They must settle it amongst themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Of one thing he wanted to make sure. Was the tutor who had come with the
+Herons from Italy indeed Brian Luttrell? How could he ascertain?</p>
+
+<p>Chance favoured him, he thought. On the following morning he met Hugo
+Luttrell in town, and accosted him with unusual eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"I've an odd question to ask you," he said, "but I have a strong reason
+for it. You saw the tutor at Strathleckie when you were in Scotland?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hugo, looking at him restlessly out of his long, dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Had you any idea that Stretton was not his real name?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo paused before he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"It is rather an odd question, certainly," he said, with a temporising
+smile. "May I ask what you want to know for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was told that he came to the house under a feigned name: that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a person who knew him."</p>
+
+<p>"An Italian? A priest?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo was thinking of the possibility of Father Christoforo's having made
+his way to England.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Percival, dubiously. "A Benedictine monk, I believe. He
+hinted that you knew Stretton's real name."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a mistake," said Hugo. "I know nothing about him. But your priest
+sounds romantic. An old fellow, isn't he, with grey hair?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all: young and slight, with dark eyes and rather a finely-cut
+face. Calls himself Dino Vasari or some such name."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo started: a yellowish pallor overspread his face. For a moment he
+stopped short in the street: then hurried on so fast that Percival was
+left a few steps behind.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter? So you know him?" said Heron, overtaking him by a
+few vigorous strides.</p>
+
+<p>"A little. He's the biggest scoundrel I ever met," replied Hugo,
+slackening his pace and trying to speak easily. "I was surprised at his
+being in England, that was all. Do you know where he lives, that I may
+avoid the street!" he added, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Percival told him, wondering at his evident agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can't tell me anything about Stretton?" he said, as they came
+to a building which he was about to enter.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. Wish I could," said Hugo, turning away.</p>
+
+<p>"So he escaped, after all!" he murmured to himself, as he walked down
+the street, with an occasional nervous glance to the right and left. "I
+thought I had done my work effectually: I did not know I was such a
+bungler. Does he guess who attacked him, I wonder? I suppose not, or I
+should have heard of the matter before now. Fortunate that I took the
+precaution of drugging him first. What an escape! And he has got hold of
+Heron! I shall have to make sure of the old lady pretty soon, or I
+foresee that Netherglen&mdash;and Kitty&mdash;never will be mine."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+
+<h3>FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In a little room on the second-floor of a London lodging-house near
+Manchester-square, Brian Luttrell was packing a box, with the few scanty
+possessions that he called his own. He had little light to see by, for
+the slender, tallow candle burnt with a very uncertain flame: the glare
+of the gas lamps in the street gave almost a better light. The floor was
+uncarpeted, the furniture scanty and poor: the fire in the grate
+smouldered miserably, and languished for want of fuel. But there was a
+contented look on Brian's face. He even whistled and hummed to himself
+as he packed his box, and though the tune broke down, and ended with a
+sigh, it showed a mind more at ease than Brian's had been for many a
+long day.</p>
+
+<p>"Heigho!" he said, rising from his task, and giving the box a shove with
+his foot into a corner, "I wonder where Dino is? He ought not to be out
+so late with that cough of his. I suppose he has gone to Brett and
+Grattan's. I am glad the dear fellow has put himself into their hands.
+Right ought to be done: she would have said so herself, and I know Dino
+will be generous. It would suit him very well to take a money
+compensation, and let her continue to reign, with glories somewhat
+shorn, however, at Strathleckie. I am afraid he will do nothing but
+enrich San Stefano with his inheritance. He certainly will not settle
+down at Netherglen as a country squire.</p>
+
+<p>"What will my mother say? Pooh! I must get out of that habit of calling
+her my mother. She is no relation of mine, as she herself told me. Mrs.
+Luttrell!&mdash;it sounds a little odd. Odder, too, to think that I must
+never sign myself Brian Luttrell any more. Bernardino Vasari! I think I
+might as well stick to the plain John Stretton, which I adopted on the
+spur of the moment at San Stefano. I suppose I shall soon have to meet
+the woman who calls herself&mdash;who is&mdash;my mother. I will say nothing harsh
+or unkind to her, poor thing! She has done herself a greater injury than
+she has done me."</p>
+
+<p>So he meditated, with his face bent over his folded arms upon the
+mantelpiece. A slow step on the stair roused him, he poked the fire
+vigorously, lighted another candle, and then opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Dino?" he said. "Where have you been for the last three
+hours?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino it was. He came in without speaking, and dropped into a chair, as
+if exhausted with fatigue. Brian repeated his question, but when Dino
+tried to answer it, a fit of coughing choked his words. It lasted
+several minutes, and left him panting, with the perspiration standing in
+great beads upon his brow.</p>
+
+<p>With a grave and anxious face Brian brought him some water, wrapped a
+cloak round his shaking shoulders, and stood by him, waiting for the
+paroxysm of coughing to abate. Dino's cough was seldom more than the
+little hacking one, which the wound in his side seemed to have left, but
+it was always apt to grow worse in cold or foggy weather, and at times
+increased to positive violence. Brian, who had visited him regularly
+while he was in hospital, and nursed him with a woman's tenderness as
+soon as he was discharged from it, had never known it to be so bad as it
+was on this occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been overdoing yourself, old fellow," he said, affectionately,
+when Dino was able to look up and smile. "You have been out too late.
+And this den of mine is not the place for you. You must clear out of it
+as soon as you can."</p>
+
+<p>"Not as long as you are here," said Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"That was all very well as long as we could remain unknown. But now that
+Brett and Grattan consent to take up your case, as I knew they would all
+along, they will want to see you: your friends and relations will want
+to visit you; and you must not be found here with me. I'll settle you in
+new lodgings before I sail. There's a comfortable place in Piccadilly
+that I used to know, with a landlady who is honest and kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Too expensive for me," Dino murmured, with a pleasant light in his
+eyes, as Brian made preparations for their evening meal, with a skill
+acquired by recent practice.</p>
+
+<p>"You forget that your expenses will be paid out of the estate," said
+Brian, "in the long run. Did not Brett offer to advance you funds if you
+wanted them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I declined them. I had enough from Father Christoforo,"
+answered Dino, rather faintly. "I did not like to run the risk of
+spending what I might not be able to repay."</p>
+
+<p>"Brett would not have offered you money if he did not feel very sure of
+his case. There can be no doubt of that," said Brian, as he set two
+cracked tea-cups on the table, and produced a couple of chops and a
+frying-pan from a cupboard. "You need not be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes the sound of hissing and spluttering that came from the
+frying-pan effectually prevented any further attempts at conversation.
+When the cooking was over, Dino again addressed his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to know what I have been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I mean you to give an account of yourself. But not until you have
+had some food. Eat and drink first; then talk."</p>
+
+<p>Dino smiled and came to the table. But he had no appetite: he swallowed
+a few mouthfuls, evidently to please Brian only; then went back to the
+solitary arm-chair by the fire, and closed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Brian did not disturb him. It was plain that Dino, not yet strong after
+his accident, had wearied himself out. He was glad, however, when the
+young man roused himself from a light and fitful doze, and said in his
+naturally tranquil voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am ready to give an account of myself, as you call it, now."</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell me," said Brian, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, and
+looking down upon the pale, somewhat emaciated countenance, with a
+tender smile, "what you mean by going about London in a dress which I
+thought that you had renounced for ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"It only means," said Dino, returning the smile, "that you were
+mistaken. I had not renounced it, and I think that I shall keep to it
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"You can hardly do that in your position," said Brian, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"My position! What is that to me? 'I had rather be a door-keeper in the
+house of the Lord'&mdash;you know what I mean: I have said it all to you
+before. If I go back to Italy, Brian, and the case falls through, as it
+may do through lack of witnesses, will you not take your own again?"</p>
+
+<p>"And turn out Miss Murray? Certainly not." Then, after a pause, Brian
+asked, rather sternly, "What do you mean by the lack of witnesses? There
+are plenty of witnesses. There is&mdash;my&mdash;my mother&mdash;for one."</p>
+
+<p>"No. She is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead. Vincenza Vasari dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino recounted to him briefly enough the details of the catastrophe, but
+acknowledged, in reply to his quick questions, that there was no
+necessity for his claim to be given up on account of the death of these
+two persons. Mr. Brett, with whom he had conferred before visiting
+Percival Heron, had assured him that there could be no doubt of his
+identity with the child whom Mrs. Luttrell had given Vincenza to nurse;
+and, knowing the circumstances, he thought it probable that the law-suit
+would be an amicable one, and that Miss Murray would consent to a
+compromise. All this, Dino repeated, though with some reluctance, to his
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Brian," he continued, "there will be no reason for your hiding
+yourself if my case is proved. You would not be turning out Miss Murray
+or anybody else. You would be my friend, my brother, my helper. Will you
+not stay in England and be all this to me? I ask you, as I have asked
+you many times before, but I ask it now for the last time. Stay with me,
+and let it be no secret that you are living still."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do it, Dino. I must go. You promised not to ask it of me again,
+dear old fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me come with you, then. We will both leave Miss Murray to enjoy her
+inheritance in peace."</p>
+
+<p>"No, that would not be just."</p>
+
+<p>"Just! What do I care for justice?" said Dino, indignantly, while his
+eyes grew dark and his cheeks crimson with passionate feeling. "I care
+for you, for her, for the happiness of you both. Can I do nothing
+towards it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, I think, Dino mio."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will stay with me until you go? You will not cast me off as you
+have cast off your other friends? Promise me."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise you, Dino," said Brian, laying his hand soothingly on the
+other's shoulder. It seemed to him that Dino must be suffering from
+fever; that he was taking a morbidly exaggerated view of matters. But
+his next words showed that his excitement proceeded from no merely
+physical cause.</p>
+
+<p>"I have done you no harm, at any rate," he said, rising and holding
+Brian's hand between his own. "I have made up my mind. I will have none
+of this inheritance. It shall either be yours or hers. I do not want it.
+And I have taken the first step towards ridding myself of it."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done?" said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you ever forgive me?" asked Dino, looking half-sadly,
+half-doubtfully, into his face. "I am not sure that you ever will. I
+have betrayed you. I have said that you were alive."</p>
+
+<p>Brian's face first turned red, then deathly pale. He withdrew his hand
+from Dino's grasp, and took a backward step.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" he said, in a stifled voice. "You! whom I thought to be my
+friend!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am your friend still," said Dino.</p>
+
+<p>Brian resumed his place by the mantelpiece, and played mechanically with
+the ornaments upon it. His face was pale still, but a little smile had
+begun to curve his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"So," he said, slowly, "my deep-laid plans are frustrated, it seems. I
+did not think you would have done this, Dino. I took a good deal of
+trouble with my arrangements."</p>
+
+<p>The tone of gentle satire went to Dino's heart. He looked appealingly at
+Brian, but did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You have made me look like a very big fool," said Brian, quietly, "and
+all to no purpose. You can't make me stay in England, you know, or
+present myself to be recognised by Mrs. Luttrell, and old Colquhoun. I
+shall vanish to South America under another name, and leave no trace
+behind, and the only result of your communication will be to disturb
+people's minds a little, and to make them suppose that I had repented of
+my very harmless deception, and was trying to get money out of you and
+Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody would think so who knows you."</p>
+
+<p>"Who does know me? Not even you, Dino, if you think I would take
+advantage of what you have said to-night. Go to-morrow, and tell Brett
+that you were mistaken. It is Brett you have told, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not Brett."</p>
+
+<p>"Who then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Percival Heron," said Dino, looking him steadily in the face.</p>
+
+<p>Brian drew himself up into an upright posture, with an ejaculation of
+astonishment. "Good Heavens, Dino! What have you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"My duty," answered Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"Your duty! Good Heavens!&mdash;unpardonable interference I should call it
+from any one but you. You don't understand the ways of the world! How
+should you, fresh from a Romish seminary? But you should understand that
+it is wiser, safer, not to meddle with the affairs of other people."</p>
+
+<p>"Your affairs are mine," said Dino, with his eyes on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Brian laughed bitterly. "Hardly, I think. I have given no one any
+authority to act for me. I may manage my affairs badly, but on the whole
+I must manage them for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that I should have to bear your reproaches," said Dino, with
+folded arms and downcast eyes. Then, after a pause, during which Brian
+walked up and down the room impatiently, he added in a lower tone, "But
+I did not think that they would have been so bitter."</p>
+
+<p>Brian stopped short and looked at him, then came and laid his hand
+gently on his shoulder. "Poor Dino!" he said, "I ought to remember how
+unlike all the rest of the world you are. Forgive me. I did not mean to
+hurt you. No doubt you thought that you were acting for the best."</p>
+
+<p>Dino looked up, and met the somewhat melancholy kindness of Brian's
+gaze. His heart was already full: his impulsive nature was longing to
+assert itself: with one great sob he threw his arms round Brian's neck,
+and fell weeping upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear Dino," said Brian, when the storm (the reason of which he
+understood very imperfectly) had subsided, "you must see that this
+communication of my secret to Mr. Heron will make a difference in my
+plans."</p>
+
+<p>"What difference?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must start to-morrow instead of next week."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Brian, no."</p>
+
+<p>"I must, indeed. Heron will tell your story to Brett, to Colquhoun, to
+Mrs. Luttrell, to Miss Murray. He may have telegraphed it already. It is
+very important to him, because, you see," said Brian, with a sad
+half-smile, "he is going to marry Miss Murray, and, unless he knows your
+history, he will think that my existence will deprive her of her
+fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not believe he will tell your story to anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"Dino, caro mio! Heron is a man of honour. He can do nothing less,
+unfortunately."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he will do less. I think that no word of what I have told him
+will pass his lips."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be impossible for him to keep silence," remarked Brian,
+coldly, and Dino said nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>It was after a long silence, when the candle had died out, and the fire
+had grown so dim that they could not see each other's faces, that Brian
+said in a low, but quiet tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Did you tell him why I left Strathleckie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did."</p>
+
+<p>Brian suppressed a vexed exclamation. It was no use trying to make Dino
+understand his position.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"He knew already."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Yes. So I should have supposed." And there the conversation ended.</p>
+
+<p>Long after Dino was tranquilly sleeping, Brian Luttrell sat by the
+ricketty round table in the middle of the room labouring at the
+composition of one or two letters, which seemed very difficult to write.
+Sheet after sheet was torn up and thrown aside. The grey dawn was
+creeping in at the window before the last word was written, and the
+letters placed within their respective envelopes. Slowly and carefully
+he wrote the address of the longest letter&mdash;wrote it, as he thought, for
+the last time&mdash;Mrs. Luttrell, Netherglen, Dunmuir. Then he stole quietly
+out of the house, and slipped it into the nearest pillar-box. The other
+letter&mdash;a few lines merely&mdash;he put in his pocket, unaddressed. On his
+return he entered the tiny slip of a room which Dino occupied, fearing
+lest his movements should have disturbed the sleeper. But Dino had not
+stirred. Brian stood and looked at him for a little while, thinking of
+the circumstances in which they had first met, of the strange bond which
+subsisted between them, and lastly of the curious betrayal of his
+confidence, so unlike Dino's usual conduct, which Brian charitably set
+down to ignorance of English customs and absence of English reserve. He
+guessed no finer motive, and his mouth curled with an irrepressible, if
+somewhat mournful, smile, as he turned away, murmuring to himself:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have had my revenge."</p>
+
+<p>He did not leave England next day. Dino's entreaties weighed with him;
+and he knew also that he himself had acted in a way which was likely to
+nullify his friend's endeavours to reinstate him in his old position. He
+waited with more curiosity than apprehension for the letter, the
+telegram, the visit, that would assure him of Percival's uprightness.
+For Brian had no doubt in his own mind as to what Percival Heron ought
+to do. If he learnt that Brian Luttrell was still living, he ought to
+communicate the fact to Mr. Colquhoun at least. And if Mr. Colquhoun
+were the kindly old man that he used to be, he would probably hasten to
+London to shake hands once more with the boy that he had known and loved
+in early days. Brian was so certain of this that he caught himself
+listening for the door-bell, and rehearsing the sentences with which he
+should excuse his conduct to his kind, old friend.</p>
+
+<p>But two days passed away, and he watched in vain. No message, no
+visitor, came to show him that Percival Heron had told the story.
+Perhaps, however, he had written it in a letter. Brian silently
+calculated the time that a letter and its answer would take. He found
+that by post it was not possible to get a reply until an hour after the
+time at which he was to start.</p>
+
+<p>In those two days Dino had an interview with Mr. Brett, from which he
+returned looking anxious and uneasy. He told Brian, however, nothing of
+its import, and Brian did not choose to ask. The day and the hour of
+Brian's departure came without further conversation between them on the
+subject which was, perhaps, nearer than any other to their hearts. Dino
+wanted to accompany his friend to the ship by which he was to sail: but
+Brian steadily refused to let him do so. It was strange to see the
+relation between these two. In spite of his youth, Dino usually inspired
+a feeling of respect in the minds of other men: his peculiarly grave and
+tranquil manner made him appear older and more experienced than he
+really was. But with Brian, he fell naturally into the position of a
+younger brother: he seemed to take a delight in leaning upon Brian's
+judgment, and surrendering his own will. He had been brought up to
+depend upon others in this way all through his life; but Brian saw
+clearly enough that the habit was contrary to his native temperament,
+and that, when once freed from the leading-strings in which he had
+hitherto been kept, he would certainly prove himself a man of remarkably
+strong and clear judgment. It was this conviction that caused Brian to
+persist in his intention of going to South America: Dino would do better
+when left to himself, than when leaning upon Brian, as his affection led
+him to do.</p>
+
+<p>"You will come back," said Dino, in a tone that admitted of no
+contradiction. "I know you will come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Dino mio, you will come to see me some day, perhaps," said Brian.
+"Listen. I leave their future in your care. Do you understand? Make it
+possible for them to be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do what is possible to bring you home again."</p>
+
+<p>"Caro mio, that is not possible," said Brian. "Do not try. You see this
+letter? Keep it until I have been an hour gone; then open it. Will you
+promise me that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"And now good-bye. Success and good fortune to you," said Brian, trying
+to smile. "When we meet again&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we ever meet again?" said Dino, with one arm round Brian's neck,
+with his eyes looking straight into Brian's, with a look of pathetic
+longing which his friend never could forget. "Or is it a last farewell?
+Brother&mdash;my brother&mdash;God bless thee, and bring thee home at last." But
+it was of no earthly home that Dino thought.</p>
+
+<p>And then they parted.</p>
+
+<p>It was more than an hour before Dino thought of opening the letter which
+Brian had left with him. It ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Dino mio, pardon me if I have done wrongly. You told my story and I
+have told yours. I feared lest you, in your generosity, should hide the
+truth, and therefore I have written fully to your mother. Go to her if
+she sends for you, and remember that she has suffered much. I have told
+her that you have the proofs: show them to her, and she will be
+convinced. God bless you, my only friend and brother."</p>
+
+<p>Dino's head dropped upon his hands. Were all his efforts vain to free
+himself from the burden of a wealth which he did not desire? The Prior
+of San Stefano had forced him into the position of a claimant to the
+estate. With his long-formed habits of obedience it seemed impossible to
+gainsay the Prior's will. Here, in England, it was easier. And Dino was
+more and more resolved to take his own way.</p>
+
+<p>A letter was brought to him at that moment. He opened it, and let his
+eyes run mechanically down the sheet. Then he started violently, and
+read it again with more attention. It contained one sentence and a
+signature:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"If Dino Vasari of San Stefano will visit me at Netherglen, I will hear
+what he has to say.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Margaret Luttrell.</span>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Could he have expected more? And yet, to his excited fancy, the words
+seemed cold and hard.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There had been solemn council in the house of Netherglen. Mrs. Luttrell
+and Mr. Colquhoun had held long interviews; letters and papers of all
+sorts had been produced and compared; the dressing-room door was closed
+against all comers, and even Angela was excluded. Hugo was once
+summoned, and came away from the conference with the air of a desperate
+man at once baffled and fierce. He lurked about the dark corners of the
+house, as if he were afraid to appear in the light of the day; but he
+took no one into his confidence. Fortune, character, life itself,
+perhaps, seemed to him to be hanging on a thread. For, if Dino Vasari
+remembered his treachery and exposed it, he knew that he should be
+ruined and disgraced. And he was resolved not to survive any such public
+exposure. He would die by his own hand rather than stand in the dock as
+a would-be murderer.</p>
+
+<p>Even if things were not so bad as that, he did not see how he was to
+exonerate himself from another charge; a minor one, indeed, but one
+which might make him look very black in some people's eyes. He had known
+of Dino's claims for many weeks, as well as of Brian's existence. Why
+had he told no one of his discoveries? What if Dino spoke of the tissue
+of lies which he had concocted, the forgery of Brian's handwriting, in
+the interview which they had had in Tarragon-street? Fortunately, Dino
+had burned the letter, and there had been no auditor of the
+conversation. Of course, he must deny that he had known anything of the
+matter. Dino could prove nothing against him; he could only make
+assertions. But assertions were awkward things sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>So Hugo skulked and frowned and listened, and was told nothing definite;
+but saw by the light of previous knowledge that there was great
+excitement in the bosoms of his aunt and the family lawyer. There were
+letters and telegrams sent off, and Hugo was disgusted to find that he
+could not catch sight of their addresses, much less of their contents.
+Mr. Colquhoun looked gloomy; Mrs. Luttrell sternly exultant. What was
+going on? Was Brian coming home; or was Dino to be recognised in Brian's
+place?</p>
+
+<p>Hugo knew nothing. But one fine autumn morning, as he was standing in
+the garden at Netherglen, he saw a dog-cart turn in at the gate, a
+dog-cart in which four men had with some difficulty squeezed
+themselves&mdash;the driver, Mr. Colquhoun, Dino Vasari, and a red-faced man,
+whom Hugo recognised, after a minute's hesitation, as the well-known
+solicitor, Mr. Brett.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo drew back into the shrubbery and waited. He dared not show himself.
+He was trembling in every limb. The hour of his disgrace was drawing
+near.</p>
+
+<p>Should he take advantage of the moment, and leave Netherglen at once, or
+should he wait and face it out? After a little reflection he determined
+to wait. From what he had seen of Dino Vasari he fancied that it would
+not be easy to manage him. Yet he seemed to be a simple-minded youth,
+fresh from the precincts of a monastery: he could surely by degrees be
+cajoled or bullied into silence. If he did accuse Hugo of treachery, it
+was better, perhaps, that the accused should be on the spot to justify
+himself. If only Hugo could see him before the story had been told to
+Mrs. Luttrell!</p>
+
+<p>He loitered about the house for some time, then went to his own room,
+and began to pack up various articles which he should wish to take away
+with him, if Mrs. Luttrell expelled him from the house. At every sound
+upon the stairs, he paused in his occupation and looked around
+nervously. When the luncheon-bell rang he actually dared not go down to
+the dining-room. He summoned a servant, and ordered brandy and water and
+a biscuit, alleging I an attack of illness as an excuse for his
+non-appearance. And, indeed, the suspense and anxiety which he was
+enduring made him feel and look really ill. He was sick with the agony
+of his dread.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon wore on. His window commanded a view of the drive: he was
+sure that the guests had not yet left the house. It was four o'clock
+when somebody at length approached his door, knocked, and then shook the
+door-handle.</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo! Are you there?" It was Mr. Colquhoun's voice. "Can't you open the
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo hesitated a moment: then turned the key, leaving Mr. Colquhoun to
+enter if he pleased. He came in looking rather astonished at this mode
+of admittance.</p>
+
+<p>"So! It's sick, you are, is it? Well, I don't exactly wonder at that.
+You've lost your chance of Netherglen, Mr. Hugo Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's face grew livid. He looked to Mr. Colquhoun for explanation, but
+did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, seating himself in the least comfortable chair the room
+afforded, and rubbing his forehead with a great, red silk-handkerchief.
+"Brian alive, and meeting with the very man who had a claim to the
+estate! Though, of course, if one thinks of it, it is only natural they
+should meet, when Mrs. Luttrell, poor body, had been fool enough to send
+Brian to San Stefano, the very place where the child was brought up. You
+know the story?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hugo. His heart began to beat wildly. Had Dino kept silence
+after all?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun launched forth upon the whole history, to which Hugo
+listened without a word of comment. He was leaning against the
+window-frame, in a position from which he could still see the drive, and
+his face was so white that Mr. Colquhoun at last was struck by its
+pallor.</p>
+
+<p>"Man alive, are you going to faint, Hugo? What's wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I've had a headache. Then my aunt is satisfied as to the
+genuineness of this claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Satisfied! She's more than satisfied," said the old lawyer, with a
+groan. "I doubt myself whether the court will see the matter in the same
+light. If Miss Murray, or if Brian Luttrell, would make a good fight, I
+don't believe this Italian fellow would win the case. He might. Brett
+says he would; But Brian&mdash;God bless him! he might have told me he was
+living still&mdash;Brian has gone off to America, poor lad! and Elizabeth
+Murray&mdash;well, I'll make her fight, if I can, but I doubt&mdash;I doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt wants this fellow to have Strathleckie and Netherglen, too,
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she does; so you are cut out there, Hugo. Don't build on
+Netherglen, if Margaret Luttrell's own son is living. I must be going:
+Brett's to dine with me. I used to know him in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Dino Vasari staying here, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun raised a warning finger. "You'll have to learn to call him
+by another name, if he stays in this house, young man," he said. "He
+declines to be called Brian&mdash;he has that much good sense&mdash;but it seems
+that Dino is short for Bernardino, or some such mouthful, and we're to
+call him Bernard to avoid confusion. Bernard Luttrell&mdash;humph!&mdash;I don't
+know whether he will stay the night or not. We met Miss Murray on our
+way up. The young man looked at her uncommonly hard, and asked who she
+was. I think he was rather struck with her. Good-bye, Hugo; take care of
+yourself, and don't be too downhearted. Poor Brian always told me to
+look after you, and I will." But the assurance did not carry the
+consolation to Hugo's mind which Mr. Colquhoun intended.</p>
+
+<p>The two lawyers drove away to Dunmuir together. Hugo watched the red
+lamps of the dog-cart down the road, and then turned away from the
+window with a gnawing sense of anxiety, which grew more imperious every
+moment. He felt that he must do something to relieve it. He knew where
+the interview with Dino was taking place. Mrs. Luttrell had lately been
+growing somewhat infirm: a slight stroke of paralysis, dangerous only in
+that it was probably the precursor of other attacks, had rendered
+locomotion particularly distasteful to her. She did not like to feel
+that she was dependent upon others for aid, and, therefore, sat usually
+in a wheeled chair in her dressing-room, and it was the most easily
+accessible room from her sleeping apartment. She was in her
+dressing-room now, and Dino Vasari was with her.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo stole quietly through the passage until he reached the door of Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room, which was ajar. He slipped into the room and looked
+round. It was dimly lighted by the red glow of the fire, and by this dim
+light he saw that the door into the dressing-room was also not quite
+closed. He could hear the sound of voices. He paused a moment, and then
+advanced. There was a high screen near the door, of which one fold was
+so close to the wall that only a slight figure could slip behind it,
+though, when once behind there, it would be entirely hidden. Hugo
+measured it with his eye: he would have to pass the aperture of the door
+to reach it, but a cautious glance from a distance assured him that both
+Mrs. Luttrell and Dino had their backs to him and could not see. He
+ensconced himself, therefore, between the screen and the wall: he could
+see nothing, but every word fell distinctly upon his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down beside me," Mrs. Luttrell was saying&mdash;how could her voice have
+grown so tender?&mdash;"and tell me everything about your past life. I
+knew&mdash;I always knew&mdash;that that other child was not my son. I have my own
+Brian now. Call me mother: it is long since I have heard the word."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" Dino's musical tones were tremulous. "My mother! I have
+thought of her all my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, my poor son, and but for the wickedness of others, I might have
+seen and known you years ago. I had an interloper in my house throughout
+all those years, and he worked me the bitterest sorrow of my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not speak so of Brian, mother," said Dino, gently. "He loved
+you&mdash;and he loved Richard. His loss&mdash;his grief&mdash;has been greater even
+than yours."</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you say so to me?" said Mrs. Luttrell, with a momentary return
+to her old, grim tones. Then, immediately softening them&mdash;"But you may
+say anything you like. It is pleasure enough to hear your voice. You
+must stay with me, Brian, and let me feast my eyes on you for a time. I
+have no patience, no moderation left: 'my son was dead and is alive
+again, he was lost and is found.'"</p>
+
+<p>He raised his mother's hand and kissed it silently. The action would, of
+course, have been lost upon Hugo, as he could not see the pair, but for
+Mrs. Luttrell's next words.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," she said, "kiss me on the cheek, not on the hand, Brian. I let
+Hugo Luttrell do it, because of his foreign blood; but you have only a
+foreign training which you must forget. They said something about your
+wearing a priest's dress: I am glad you did not wear it here, for you
+would have been mobbed in Dunmuir. It's a sad pity that you're a Papist,
+Brian; but we must set Mr. Drummond, our minister, to talk to you, and
+he'll soon show you the error of your ways."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be very glad to hear what Mr. Drummond has to say," said Dino,
+with all the courtesy which his monastic training had instilled; "but I
+fear that he will have his labour thrown away. And I have one or two
+things to tell you, mother, now that those gentlemen have gone. If I am
+to disappoint you, let me do it at once, so that you may understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Disappoint me? and how can you do that?" asked Mrs. Luttrell,
+scornfully. "Perhaps you mean that you will winter in the South! If your
+health requires it, do you think I would stand in the way? You have a
+sickly air, but it makes you all the more like one whom I well
+remember&mdash;your father's brother, who died of a decline in early youth.
+No, go if you like; I will not tie you down. You can come back in the
+summer, and then we will think about your settling down and marrying.
+There are plenty of nice girls in the neighbourhood, though none so good
+as Angela, nor perhaps so handsome as Elizabeth Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, I shall never marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Not marry? and why not?" cried Mrs. Luttrell, indignantly. "But you say
+this to tease me only; being a Luttrell&mdash;the only Luttrell, indeed, save
+Hugo, that remains&mdash;you must marry and continue the family."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never marry," said Dino, with a firmness which at last seemed
+to make an impression upon Mrs. Luttrell, "because I am going to be a
+monk."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo could not stifle a quick catching of his breath. Did Dino mean what
+he said? And what effect would this decision have upon the lives of the
+many persons whose future seemed to be bound up with his? What would
+Mrs. Luttrell say?</p>
+
+<p>At first she said nothing. And then Dino's voice was heard again.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, my mother, do not look at me like that. I must follow my
+vocation. I would have given myself years ago, but I was not allowed.
+The Prior will receive me now. And nothing on earth will turn me from my
+resolution. I have made up my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" said Mrs. Luttrell, very slowly. "You will desert me too, after
+all these years!"</p>
+
+<p>Dino answered by repeating in Latin the words&mdash;"He that loveth father or
+mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me." But Mrs. Luttrell interrupted
+him angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I want none of your Latin gibberish," she said. "I want plain
+commonsense. If you go into a monastery, do you intend to give the
+property to the monks? Perhaps you want to turn Netherglen into a
+convent, and establish a priory at Strathleckie? Well, I cannot prevent
+you. What fools we are to think that there is any happiness in this
+world!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" said Dino, and his voice was very gentle, "let me speak to you
+of another before we talk about the estates. Let me speak to you of
+Brian."</p>
+
+<p>"Brian!" Her voice had a checked tone for a moment; then she recovered
+herself and spoke in her usual harsh way. "I know no one of that name
+but you."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean my friend whom you thought to be your son for so many years,
+mother. Have you no tenderness for him? Do you not think of him with a
+little love and pity? Let me tell you what he suffered. When he came to
+us first at San Stefano he was nearly dying of grief. It was long before
+we nursed him back to health. When I think how we all learnt to love
+him, mother, I cannot but believe that you must love him, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I never loved him," said Mrs. Luttrell. "He stood in your place. If you
+had a spark of proper pride in you, you would know that he was your
+enemy, and you will feel towards him as I do."</p>
+
+<p>"He is an enemy that I have learned to love," answered Dino. "At any
+rate, mother"&mdash;his voice always softened when he called her by that
+name&mdash;"at any rate, you will try to love him now."</p>
+
+<p>"Why now?" She asked the question sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I mean him to fill my place."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence, in which the fall of a cinder from the grate
+could be distinctly heard. Then Mrs. Luttrell uttered a long, low moan.
+"Oh, my God!" she said. "What have I done that I should be tormented in
+this way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother, do not say so," said Dino, evidently with deep emotion.
+Then, in a lower and more earnest voice, he added&mdash;"Perhaps if you had
+tried to love the child that Vincenza placed within your arms that day,
+you would have felt joy and not sorrow now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you dare to rebuke your mother?" said Mrs. Luttrell, fiercely. "If I
+had loved that child, I would never have acknowledged you to-day. Not
+though all the witnesses in the world swore to your story."</p>
+
+<p>"That perhaps would have been the better for me," said Dino, softly.
+"Mother, I am going away from you for ever; let me leave you another
+son. He has never grieved you willingly; forgive him for those
+misfortunes which he could not help; love him instead of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!"</p>
+
+<p>"He has gone to the other side of the world, but I think he would come
+back if he knew that you had need of him. Let me send him a line, a
+word, from you: make him the master of Netherglen, and let me go in
+peace."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not hear his name, I will not tolerate his presence within these
+walls," cried Mrs. Luttrell, passionately. "He was never dear to me,
+never; and he is hateful to me now. He has robbed me of both my sons:
+his hand struck Richard down, and for twenty-three years he usurped your
+place. I will never see him again. I will never forgive him so long as
+my tongue can speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Then may God forgive you," said Dino, in a strangely solemn voice, "for
+you are doing a worse injustice, a worse wrong, than that done by the
+poor woman who tried to put her child in your son's place. Have you held
+that child upon your knee, kissed his face, and seen him grow up to
+manhood, without a particle of love for him in your heart? Did you send
+him away from you with bitter reproaches, because of the accident which
+he would have given his own life to prevent? You have spoilt his life,
+and you do not care. Your heart is hard then, and God will not let that
+hardness go unpunished. Mother, pray that his judgments may not descend
+upon you for this."</p>
+
+<p>"You have no right to talk to me in that way," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+a great effort. "I have not been unjust. You are ungrateful. If you go
+away from me, I will leave all that I possess to Hugo, as I intended to
+do. Brian, as you call him&mdash;Vincenza Vasari's son&mdash;shall have nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"And Brian is to be disinherited in favour of Hugo Luttrell, is he?"
+said Dino, in a still lower voice, but one which the listener felt
+instinctively had a dangerous sound. "Do you know what manner of man
+this Hugo Luttrell is, that you wish to enrich him with your wealth, and
+make him the master of Netherglen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know no harm of him," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He paused a little, and turned his face&mdash;was it consciously or
+unconsciously?&mdash;towards the open door, from which could be seen the
+screen, behind which the unhappy listener crouched and quivered in agony
+of fear. Willingly would Hugo have turned and fled, but flight was now
+impossible. The fire was blazing brightly, and threw a red glow over all
+the room. If he emerged from behind the screen, his figure would be
+distinctly visible to Dino, whose face was turned in that direction.
+What was he going to say?</p>
+
+<p>"I know no harm of him," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will enlighten you. Hugo Luttrell knew that Brian was alive,
+that I was in England, two months ago. A letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano must have been in some way intercepted by him; he made use of
+his knowledge, however he obtained it, to bring the messages from Brian
+which were utterly false, to try and induce me to relinquish my claim on
+you; he forged a letter from Brian for that purpose; and finally&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell's voice, harsh and strident with emotion, against which
+she did her best to fight, broke the sudden silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you call it fair and right," she said, "to accuse a man of such
+faults as these behind his back? If you want to tell me anything against
+Hugo, send for him and tell it to me in his presence. Then he can defend
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He will try to defend himself, no doubt," said Dino, with a note of
+melancholy scorn in his grave, young voice. "But I will do nothing
+behind his back. You wish him to be summoned?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do. Ring the bell instantly!" cried Mrs. Luttrell, whose loving
+ardour seemed to have given way to the most unmitigated resentment.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell the servants to find him and bring him here."</p>
+
+<p>"They would not have far to go," said Dino, coolly. "He is close to
+hand. Hugo Luttrell, come here and answer for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean? Where is he?" exclaimed Mrs. Luttrell, struck with
+his tone of command. "He is not in this room!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but he is in the next, hiding behind that screen. He has been there
+for the last half-hour. You need play the spy no longer, sir. Have the
+goodness to step forward and show yourself."</p>
+
+<p>The inexorable sternness of his voice struck the listeners with amaze.
+Pale as a ghost, trembling like an aspen leaf, Hugo emerged from his
+hiding-place, and confronted the mother and the son.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>RETRIBUTION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Confess!" said Dino, whose stern voice and outstretched, pointing
+finger seemed terrible as those of some accusing and avenging angel to
+the wretched culprit. "Confess that I have only told the truth. Confess
+that you lied and forged and cheated | to gain your own ends. Confess
+that when other means failed you tried to kill me. Confess&mdash;and
+then"&mdash;with a sudden lowering of his tones to the most wonderful
+exquisite tenderness&mdash;"God knows that I shall be ready to forgive!"</p>
+
+<p>But the last words passed unheeded. Hugo cowered before his eye, covered
+his ears with his hands, and made a sudden dash to the door, with a cry
+that was more like the howl of a hunted wild animal, than the utterance
+of a human being. Mrs. Luttrell called for help, and half-rose from her
+chair. But Dino laid his hand upon her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him go," said he. "I have no desire to punish him. But I must warn
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The door clanged behind the flying figure, and awakened the echoes of
+the old house. Hugo was gone: whither they knew not: away, perhaps, into
+the world of darkness that reigned without. Mrs. Luttrell sank back into
+her chair, trembling from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Dino, going up to her, and kneeling before her, "forgive
+me if I have spoken too violently. But I could not bear that you should
+never know what sort of man this Hugo Luttrell has grown to be."</p>
+
+<p>Her hand closed convulsively on his. "How&mdash;how did you know&mdash;that he was
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw his reflection in the mirror before me as he passed the open
+door. He was afraid, and he hid himself there to listen. Mother, never
+trust him again."</p>
+
+<p>"Never&mdash;never," she stammered. "Stay with me&mdash;protect me."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not need my protection," he said, looking at her with calm,
+surprised eyes. "You will have your friends: Mr. Colquhoun, and the
+beautiful lady that you call Angela. And, for my sake, let me think that
+you will have Brian, too."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" Her voice took new strength as she answered him, and she
+snatched her hand angrily away from his close clasp. "I will never speak
+to him again."</p>
+
+<p>"Not even when he returns?"</p>
+
+<p>"You told me that he was gone to America!"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel sure that some day he will come back. He will learn the
+truth&mdash;that I have withdrawn my claim; then he and Miss Murray must
+settle the matter of property between them. They may divide it; or they
+might even marry."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was perfectly calm; he had brooded over this arrangement for
+so long that it scarcely struck him how terrible it would sound in Mrs.
+Luttrell's ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean it?" she said, feebly. "You renounce your claim&mdash;to be&mdash;my
+son?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not your son, mother," he said, kissing the cold hand, which she
+immediately drew away from him. "Not your son! Not the claim to be
+loved, and the right to love you! But let that rest between ourselves.
+Why should the money that I do not want come between me and you, between
+me and my friend? Let Brian come home, and you will have two sons
+instead of one."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather say that I shall have no son at all," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+gathering anger. "If you do this thing I cast you off. I forbid you to
+give what is your own to Vincenza Vasari's son."</p>
+
+<p>"You make it hard for me to act if you forbid me," said Dino, rising and
+standing before her with a pleading look upon his face. "But I hold to
+my intention, mother. I will not touch a penny of this fortune. It shall
+be Brian's, or Miss Murray's&mdash;never mine."</p>
+
+<p>"The matter is in a lawyer's hands. Your rights will be proved in spite
+of you."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think they will. I hold the proofs in my hand. I can destroy
+them every one, if I choose."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will not choose. Besides, these are the copies, not the
+originals."</p>
+
+<p>"No, excuse me. I obtained the originals from Mr. Brett. He expects me
+to take them back to him to-night." Dino held out a roll of papers.
+"They're all here. I will not burn them, mother, if you will send for
+Brian back and let him have his share."</p>
+
+<p>"They would be no use if he came back. You must have the whole or
+nothing. Let us make a bargain; give up your scheme of entering a
+monastery, and then I will consent to some arrangement with Brian about
+money matters. But I will never see him!"</p>
+
+<p>Dino shook his head. He turned to the fireplace with the papers in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I withdraw my claims," he said, simply.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell was quivering with suppressed excitement, but she mastered
+herself sufficiently to speak with perfect coldness.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless you consent to abandon a monastic life, I would rather that your
+claims were given up," she said. "Let Elizabeth Murray keep the
+property, and do you and the man Vasari go your separate ways."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Call me 'mother' no longer," she said, sternly, "you are no more my son
+than he was, if you can leave me, in my loneliness and widowhood, to be
+a monk."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;this is the end," said Dino.</p>
+
+<p>With a sudden movement of the hand he placed the roll of papers in the
+very centre of the glowing fire. Mrs. Luttrell uttered a faint cry, and
+struggled to rise to her feet, but she had not the strength to do so.
+Besides, it was too late. With the poker, Dino held down the blazing
+mass, until nothing but a charred and blackened ruin remained. Then he
+laid down the poker, and faced Mrs. Luttrell with a wavering but
+victorious smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It is done," he said, with something of exultation in his tone. "Now I
+am free. I have long seen that this was the only thing to do. And now I
+can acknowledge that the temptation was very great."</p>
+
+<p>With lifted head and kindling eye, he looked, in this hour of triumph
+over himself, as if no temptation had ever assailed, or ever could
+assail, him. But then his glance fell upon Mrs. Luttrell, whose hands
+fiercely clutched the arms of her chair, whose features worked with
+uncontrollable agitation. He fell on his knees before her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" he cried. "Forgive me. Perhaps I was wrong. I will&mdash;I will ...
+I will pray for you."</p>
+
+<p>The last few words were spoken after a long pause, with a fall in his
+voice, which showed that they were not those which he had intended to
+say when he began the sentence. There was something solemn and pathetic
+in the sound. But Mrs. Luttrell would not hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Go!" she said, hoarsely. "Go. You are no son of mine. Sooner Brian&mdash;or
+Hugo&mdash;than you. Go back to your monastery."</p>
+
+<p>She thrust him away from her with her hands when he tried to plead. And
+at last he saw that there was no use in arguing, for she pulled a bell
+which hung within her reach, and, when the servant appeared, she placed
+the matter beyond dispute by saying sharply:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Show this gentleman out."</p>
+
+<p>Dino looked at her face, clasped his hands in one last silent entreaty,
+and&mdash;went. There was no use in staying longer. The door closed behind
+him, and the woman who had thrust away from her the love that might have
+been hers, but for her selfishness and hardness of heart, was left
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>A whirl of raging, angry thoughts made her brain throb and reel. She had
+put away from her what might have been the great joy of her life; her
+will, which had never been controlled by another, had been simply set
+aside and disregarded. What was there left for her to do? All the
+repentance in the world would not give her back the precious papers that
+her son had burnt before her eyes. And where had he gone? Back to his
+monastery? Should she never, never see him again? Was he tramping the
+long and weary way to the Dunmuir station, where the railway engine
+would presently come shrieking and sweeping out of the darkness, and,
+like a fabled monster in some old fairy tale, gather him into its
+embrace, and bear him away to a place whence he would never more return?</p>
+
+<p>So grotesque this fancy appeared to her that her anger failed her, and
+she laughed a little to herself&mdash;laughed with bloodless lips that made
+no sound. A kind of numbness of thought came over her: she sat for a
+little time in blank unconsciousness of her sorrow, and yet she did not
+sleep. And then a host of vividly-pictured images began to succeed each
+other with frightful rapidity across the <i>tabula rasa</i> of her mind.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her in that quiet hour she saw her son as he walked dawn
+the dark road to Dunmuir. The moon was just rising; the trees on either
+hand lifted their gaunt branches to a wild and starless sky. Whose face,
+white as that of a corpse, gleamed from between those leafless stems?
+Hugo's, surely. And what did he hold in his hand? Was it a knife on
+which a faint ray of moonlight was palely reflected? He was watching for
+that solitary traveller who came with heedless step and hanging head
+upon the lonely road. In another moment the spring would be taken, the
+thrust made, and a dying man's blood would well out upon the stones.
+Could she do nothing? "Brian! Brian!" she cried&mdash;or strove to cry; but
+the shriek seemed to be stifled before it left her lips. "Brian!" Three
+times she tried to call his name, with an agony of effort which,
+perhaps, brought her back to consciousness&mdash;for the dream, if dream it
+was, vanished, and she awoke.</p>
+
+<p>Awoke&mdash;to the remembrance of what she had heard, concerning Hugo's
+attempt on Dino's life, and the fact that she had sent her son out of
+the house to walk to Dunmuir alone. She was not so blind to Hugo's
+inherited proclivities to passion and revenge as she pretended to be.
+She knew that he was a dangerous enemy, and that Dino had incurred his
+hatred. What might not happen on that lonely road between Netherglen and
+Dunmuir if Dino (Brian, she called him) traversed it unwarned, alone,
+unarmed? She must send servants after him at once, to guard him as he
+went upon his way. She heard her maid in the next room. Should she call
+Janet, or should she ring the bell?</p>
+
+<p>What a curiously-helpless sensation had come over her! She did not seem
+able to rouse herself. She could not lift her hand. She was tired; that
+was it. She would call Janet. "Janet!" But Janet did not hear.</p>
+
+<p>How was it that she could not speak? Her faculties were as clear as
+usual: her memory was as strong as ever it had been. She knew exactly
+what she wanted: she could arrange in her own mind the sentences that
+she wished to say. But, try as she would, she could not articulate a
+word, she could not raise a finger, or make a sign. And again the
+terrible dread of what would happen to the son she loved took possession
+of her mind.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if only he would return, she would let him have his way. What did it
+matter that the proof of his birth had been destroyed? She would
+acknowledge him as her son before all the world; and she would let him
+divide his heritage with whomsoever he chose. Netherglen should be his,
+and the three claimants might settle between themselves, whether the
+rest of the property should belong to one of them, or be divided amongst
+the three. He might even go back to San Stefano; she would love him and
+bless him throughout, if only she knew that his life was safe. She went
+further. She seemed to be pleading with fate&mdash;or rather with God&mdash;for
+the safety of her son. She would receive Brian with open arms; she would
+try to love him for Dino's sake. She would do all and everything that
+Dino required from her, if only she could conquer this terrible
+helplessness of feeling, this dumbness of tongue which had come over
+her. Surely it was but a passing phase: surely when someone came and
+stood before her the spell would be broken, and she would be able to
+speak once more.</p>
+
+<p>The maid peeped in, thought she was sleeping, and quietly retired. No
+one ventured to disturb Mrs. Luttrell if she nodded, for at night she
+slept so little that even a few minutes' slumber in the daytime was a
+boon to her. A silent, motionless figure in her great arm-chair, with
+her hands folded before her in her lap, she sat&mdash;not sleeping&mdash;with all
+her senses unnaturally sharpened, it seemed to her; hearing every sound
+in the house, noting every change in the red embers of the fire in which
+the proof of her son's history had been consumed, and all the while
+picturing to herself some terrible tragedy going on outside the house,
+which a word from her might have averted. And she not able to pronounce
+that word!</p>
+
+<p>Dino, meanwhile, had plunged into the darkness, without a thought of
+fear for himself. He walked away from the house just as she had seen him
+in her waking dream, with head bent and eyes fixed on the ground. He
+took the right road to Dunmuir, more by accident than by design, and
+walked beneath the rows of sheltering trees, through which the loch
+gleamed whitely on the one hand, while on the other the woods looked
+ominously black, without a thought of the revengeful ferocity which
+lurked beneath the velvet smoothness of Hugo Luttrell's outer demeanour.
+If something moved amongst the trees on his right hand, if something
+crouched amongst the brushwood, like a wild animal prepared to spring,
+he neither saw nor heard the tokens which might have moved him to
+suspicion. But suddenly it seemed to him that a wild cry rang out upon
+the stillness of the night air. His friend's name&mdash;or was it his
+own?&mdash;three times repeated, in tones of heartrending pain and terror.
+"Brian! Brian! Brian!" Whose voice had called him? Not that of anyone he
+knew. And yet, what stranger would use that name? He stopped, looked
+round, and answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am here."</p>
+
+<p>And then it struck him that the voice had been close beside him, and
+that, standing where he stood in the middle of the long, white road, it
+was quite impossible that any one could be so near, and yet remain
+unseen.</p>
+
+<p>With a slight shudder he let his eyes explore the sides of the road: the
+hedgerows, and the bank that rose on his right hand towards the wood.
+Surely there was something that moved and stopped, and moved again
+amongst the bracken. With one bound Dino reached the moving object, and
+dragged it forth into the light. He knew whom he was touching before he
+saw the face. It was Hugo who lurked in the hedgerows, waiting&mdash;and for
+what?</p>
+
+<p>"You heard it?" said Dino, as the young man crouched before him,
+scarcely daring to lift up his head, although at that moment, if he had
+had his wits about him, he could not have had a better chance for the
+accomplishment of any sinister design. "Who called?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo cast a quick startled glance at the wood behind him. "I heard
+nothing," he said, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard a voice that called me," said Dino. Then he looked at Hugo, and
+pressed his shoulder somewhat heavily with his hand. "What were you
+doing there? For whom were you waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>"For nobody," muttered Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure of that? I could almost believe that you were waiting for
+me; and should I be far wrong? When I think of that other time, when you
+deceived me, and trapped me, and left me dying, as you thought, in the
+streets, I can believe anything of you now."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's trembling lips refused to articulate a word. He could neither
+deny the charge nor plead for mercy.</p>
+
+<p>Dino's exultation of mood led him to despise an appeal to any but the
+higher motives. He would not condescend to threaten Hugo with the
+police-court and the criminal cell. He loosed his hold on the young
+man's shoulder, and told him to rise from the half-kneeling posture, to
+which fear, rather than Dino's strength, had brought him. And when Hugo
+stood before him, he spoke in the tone of one to whom the spiritual side
+of life was more real, more important than any other, and it seemed to
+Hugo as if he spoke from out some other world.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a day coming," he said, "when the secrets of all men's hearts
+will be revealed. And where will you be, what will you do in that dread
+day? When you stand before the Judge of all men on His great white
+Throne, how will you justify yourself to Him?"</p>
+
+<p>The strong conviction, the deep penetrating accents of his words,
+carried a sting to Hugo's conscience. He felt as if Dino had a
+supernatural knowledge of his past life and his future, when he said
+solemnly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Think of the secrets of your heart which shall then be made known to
+all men. What have you done? Have you not broken God's laws? Have you
+not in very truth committed murder?... There is a commandment in God's
+Word which says, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, stop, for Heaven's sake, stop!" gasped Hugo, covering his face
+with his hands. "How can you know all this? I did not mean to kill him.
+I meant only to have my revenge. I did not know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, do not try to excuse yourself," said Dino, who caught the words
+imperfectly, and did not understand that they referred to any crime but
+the one so nearly accomplished against himself. "God knows all. He saw
+what you did: He can make it manifest in His own way. Confess to Him
+now: not to me. I pardon you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a great sob from behind Hugo's quivering fingers; but it was
+only of relief, not repentance. Dino waited a moment or two before he
+said, with the tone of quiet authority which was natural to him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Now fetch me the knife which you dropped amongst the ferns by the hedge
+over there."</p>
+
+<p>With the keen, quick sight that he possessed, he had caught a glimpse of
+it in the scuffle, and seen it drop from Hugo's hand. But the young
+Sicilian took the order as another proof of the sort of superhuman
+knowledge of his deeds and motives which he attributed to Dino Vasari,
+and went submissively to the place where the weapon was lying, picked it
+up, and with hanging head, presented it humbly to the man whose
+spiritual force had for the moment mastered him.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not return to Netherglen," said Dino, looking at him as he
+spoke. "My mother will not see you again: she does not want you near
+her. You understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo assented, with a sort of stifled groan.</p>
+
+<p>"I was forced to tell her, in order to put her on her guard. But if you
+obey me, I will tell no one else. I have not even told Brian. If I find
+that you return to your evil courses, I shall keep the secret of your
+conduct no longer. Then, when Brian comes home, he can reckon with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Brian!" ejaculated Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes: Brian. What I require from you is that you trouble Netherglen no
+more. I cannot think of you with peace in my mother's house. You will
+leave it to-night&mdash;at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Hugo muttered. He had no desire to return to Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to Dunmuir," said Dino. "You can walk on with me."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo made no opposition. He turned his face vaguely in the specified
+direction, and moved onward; but the sound of Dino's voice, clear and
+cold, gave him a thrill of shame, amounting to positive physical pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Walk before me, if you please. I cannot trust you."</p>
+
+<p>They walked on: Hugo a pace or two in front, Dino behind. Not a word was
+spoken between them until they reached the chief street of Dunmuir, and
+then Dino called to him to pause. They were standing in front of Mr.
+Colquhoun's door.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going in here?" said Hugo, with a sharp note of terror in
+his voice. "You will not tell Colquhoun?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell no one," said Dino, "so long as you fulfil the condition I
+have laid upon you. This is our last word on the subject. God forgive
+you, as I do."</p>
+
+<p>They stood for a moment, face to face. The moon had risen, and its light
+fell peacefully upon the paved street, the old stone houses, the broad,
+beautiful river with its wooded banks, the distant sweep of hills. It
+fell also on the faces of the two men, not unlike in feature and
+colouring, but totally dissimilar in expression, and seemed to intensify
+every point of difference between them. There was a lofty serenity upon
+Dino Vasari's brow, while guilt and fear and misery were deeply
+imprinted on Hugo's boyish, beautiful face. For the first time the
+contrast between them struck forcibly on Hugo's mind. He leaned against
+the stone wall of Mr. Colquhoun's house, and gave vent to his emotion in
+one bitter, remorseful sob of pain.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun and Mr. Brett were sitting over their wine in the
+well-lighted, well-warmed dining-room of the lawyer's house. They had
+been friends in their earlier days, and were delighted to have an
+opportunity of meeting (in a strictly unprofessional way) and chatting
+over the memories of their youth. It was a surprise to both of them when
+the door was opened to admit Dino Vasari and Hugo Luttrell: two of the
+last visitors whom Mr. Colquhoun expected. His bow to Dino was a little
+stiff: his greeting of Hugo more cordial than usual.</p>
+
+<p>"You come from Mrs. Luttrell?" he asked, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's pallid lips, and look of agitation, convinced him that some
+disaster was impending. But Dino answered with great composure.</p>
+
+<p>"I come to bring you news which I think ought not to be kept from you
+for a moment longer than is necessary," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray take a glass of wine, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Mr.&mdash;&mdash;" The lawyer did not quite
+know how to address his visitor. "Won't you sit down, Hugo?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not come to stay," said Dino. "I am going to the hotel for the
+night. I wished only to speak to you at once." He put one hand on the
+table by which he was standing and glanced at Mr. Brett. For the first
+time he showed some embarrassment. "I hope it will not inconvenience
+you," he said, "if I tell you that I have withdrawn my claim."</p>
+
+<p>Dead silence fell on the assembly. Mr. Brett pushed back his chair a
+little way and stared. Mr. Colquhoun shook his head and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I find," continued Dino, "that Mrs. Luttrell and I have entirely
+different views as to the disposition of the property and the life that
+I ought to lead. I cannot give up my plans&mdash;even for her. The easiest
+way to set things straight is to let the estate remain in Miss Murray's
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't!" said Mr. Colquhoun, abruptly. "Brian Luttrell is alive!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then let it go to Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir," said Mr. Brett, "you have offered us complete documentary
+evidence that the gentleman now on his way to America is not Brian
+Luttrell at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but there is only documentary evidence," said Dino. "The deaths of
+Vincenza Vasari and Rosa Naldi in a railway accident deprived us of
+anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are those papers?" asked Mr. Brett, sharply. "I hope they are
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite safe, Mr. Brett. I have burnt them all." The shock of this
+communication was too much, even for the case-hardened Mr. Brett. He
+turned positively pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Burnt them! Burnt them!" he ejaculated. "Oh, the man is mad. Burnt the
+proofs of his position and birth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have done all that I wanted to do," said Dino, colouring as the three
+pairs of eyes were fastened upon him with different expressions of
+disbelief, surprise, and even scorn. "My mother knows that I am her son:
+that is all I cared for. That is what I came for, not for the estate."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear, young friend," said Mr. Colquhoun, with unusual
+gentleness, "don't you see that if Mrs. Luttrell and Brian and Miss
+Murray are all convinced that you are Mrs. Luttrell's son, you are doing
+them a wrong by destroying the proofs and leaving everybody in an
+unsettled state? You should never have come to Scotland at all if you
+did not mean to carry the matter through."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I say," cried Mr. Brett, who was working himself up into a
+violent passion. "He has played fast and loose with all us! He has
+tricked and cheated me. Why, he had a splendid case! And to think that
+it can be set aside in this way!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very informal," said Mr. Colquhoun, shaking his head, but with a little
+gleam of laughter in his eye. If Dino Vasari had told the truth, the
+matter had taken a fortunate turn in Mr. Colquhoun's opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"Scandalous! scandalous!" exclaimed Mr. Brett. "Actionable, I call it.
+You had no right to make away with those papers, sir. However, it may be
+possible to repair the loss. They were not all there."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not have it," said Dino, decisively. "Nothing more shall be
+done. I waive my claims entirely. Brian and Miss Murray can settle the
+rest."</p>
+
+<p>And then the party broke up. Mr. Brett seized his client by the arm and
+bore him away to the hotel, arguing and scolding as he went. Before his
+departure, however, Dino found time to say a word in Mr. Colquhoun's
+ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kindly look after Hugo to-night?" he said. "Mrs. Luttrell will
+not wish him to return to Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! There's been a quarrel, has there?" said Mr. Colquhoun eyeing the
+young man curiously.</p>
+
+<p>After a little consideration, Dino thought himself justified in saying
+"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I will see after him. You are going with Brett. You'll not have a
+smooth time of it."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be smoother by-and-bye. You will shake hands with me, Mr.
+Colquhoun?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I will," said the old lawyer, heartily. "And wish you God-speed,
+my lad. You've not been very wise, maybe, but you've been generous."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have Brian home, before long, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so. I hope so. It's a difficult matter to settle," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, cautiously, "but I think we might see our way out of it if
+Brian were at home. If you want a friend, lad, come to me."</p>
+
+<p>Left alone with Hugo, the solicitor took his place once more at the
+table, and hastily drank off a glass of wine, then glanced at his silent
+guest with a queerly-questioning look.</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong with ye, lad?" he said. "Cheer up, and drink a glass of
+good port wine. Your aunt has quarrelled with many people before you,
+and she'll like enough come to her senses in course of time."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he say I had quarrelled with my aunt?" asked Hugo, in a dazed sort
+of way.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he said as much. He said there had been a quarrel. He asked me to
+keep an eye on you. Why, Hugo, my man, what's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>For Hugo, utterly careless of the old man's presence, suddenly laid his
+aims on the table, and his head on his arms, and burst into passionate
+hysterical tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut, tut, man! this will never do," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+rebukingly. "You're not a girl, nor a child, to cry for a sharp word or
+two. What's wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>But he got no answer. Not even when Hugo, spent and exhausted with the
+violence of his emotion, lifted up his face and asked hoarsely for
+brandy. Mr. Colquhoun gave him what he required, without asking further
+questions, and tried to induce him to take some solid food; but Hugo
+absolutely refused to swallow anything but a stiff glass of brandy and
+water, and allowed himself to be conducted to a bed-room, where he flung
+himself face downwards on the bed, and preserved a sullen silence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun did not press him to speak. "I'll hear it all from
+Margaret Luttrell to-morrow morning," he said to himself. "My mind
+misgives me that there have been strange doings up at Netherglen
+to-night. But I'll know to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>It was at that very moment that Angela Vivian, going into the
+dressing-room, found a motionless, silent figure, sitting upright in the
+wheeled arm-chair, a figure, not lifeless, indeed, but with life
+apparent only in the agonised glance of the restless eyes, which seemed
+to plead for help. But no help could be given to her now. No more hard
+words could fall from those stricken lips: no more bitter sentences be
+written by those nerveless fingers. She might live for years, if
+dragging on a mute, maimed existence could be, indeed, called living;
+but, as far as power over the destiny of others, of doing good or harm
+to her loved ones, was concerned, Margaret Luttrell was practically
+dead!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun heard the news of Mrs. Luttrell's seizure on the following
+morning, and made good use of it as a reproach to Dino in the
+conversation that he had with him. But Dino, although deeply grieved at
+the turn which things had taken, stood firm. He would have nothing to do
+with the Strathleckie or the Luttrell properties. Whereupon, Mr.
+Colquhoun went straight to Miss Murray, and told her, to the best of his
+ability, the long and intricate story. Be it observed that, although Mr.
+Colquhoun knew that Brian was living, and that he had lately been in
+England, he did not know of Brian's appearance at Strathleckie under the
+name of Stretton, and was, therefore, unable to give Elizabeth any
+information on this point.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth was imperative in her decision.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate," she said, "the property cannot belong to me. It must
+belong either to Mr. Luttrell or to Mr. Vasari. I have no right to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Possession is nine points of the law, my dear," said the lawyer.
+"Nobody can turn you out until Brian comes home again. It may be all a
+mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think it a mistake, Mr. Colquhoun?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun smiled, pursed up his lips, and gave his head a little
+shake, as much as to say that he was not going to be tricked into any
+expression of his private opinions.</p>
+
+<p>"The thing will be to get Mr. Brian Luttrell back," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Not such an easy thing as it seems, I am afraid, Miss Murray. The lad,
+Dino Vasari, or whatever his name is, tried hard to keep him, but
+failed. He is an honest lad, I believe, this Dino, but he's an awful
+fool, you know, begging your pardon. If he wanted to keep Brian in
+England, why couldn't he write to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he did not know of your friendship for Brian," said Elizabeth,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he knew very little of Brian's life and Brian's friends, my dear,
+and, according to his own account, he knew a good deal. Of course, he is
+a foreigner, and we must make allowances for him, especially as he was
+brought up in a monastery, where I don't suppose they learn much about
+the forms of ordinary life. What puzzles me is the stupidity of one or
+two other people, who might have let me know in time, if they had had
+their wits about them. I've a crow to pluck with your Mr. Heron on that
+ground," concluded Mr. Colquhoun, never dreaming that he was making
+mischief by his communication.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth started forward. "Percival!" she said, contracting her brows
+and looking at Mr. Colquhoun earnestly. "You don't mean that Percival
+knew!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun perceived that he had gone too far, but could not retract
+his words.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear Miss Murray, he certainly knew something&mdash;&mdash;" and then he
+stopped short and coughed apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Elizabeth, with a little extra colour in her cheeks, and the
+faintest possible touch of coldness, "no doubt he had his reasons for
+being silent; he will explain them when he comes."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt," said the lawyer, gravely; but he chuckled a little to
+himself over the account which Mr. Brett had given him that morning of
+Mr. Heron's disappointment. (Mr. Brett had thrown up the case, he told
+his friend Colquhoun; would have nothing more to do with it at any
+price. "I think the case has thrown you up," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+laughing slyly.)</p>
+
+<p>He had taken up some papers which he had brought with him and was
+turning towards the door when a new thought caused him to stop, and
+address Elizabeth once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray," he said, "I do not wish to make a remark that would be
+unpleasant to you, but when I remember that Mr. Heron was in possession
+of the facts that I have just imparted to you, nearly a week ago, I do
+think, like yourself, that his conduct calls for an explanation."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say that I thought so, Mr. Colquhoun," said Elizabeth,
+feeling provoked. But Mr. Colquhoun was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, she agreed with him so far that she sent off a telegram to
+Percival that afternoon. "Come to me at once, if possible. I want you."</p>
+
+<p>When Percival received the message, which he did on his return from his
+club about eleven o'clock at night, he eyed the thin, pink paper on
+which it was written as if it had been a reptile of some poisonous kind.
+"I expected it," he said to himself, and all the gaiety went out of his
+face. "She has found something out."</p>
+
+<p>It was too late to do anything that night. He felt resentfully conscious
+that he should not sleep if he went to bed; so he employed the midnight
+hours in completing some items of work which ought to be done on the
+following day. Before it was light he had packed a hand-bag, and
+departed to catch the early train. He sent a telegram from Peterborough
+to say that he was on the way.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, it was late when he reached Strathleckie, and he assured
+himself with some complacency that Elizabeth would expect no
+conversation with him until next morning. But he was a little mistaken.
+In her quality of mistress, she had chosen to send everyone else to bed:
+the household was so well accustomed to Percival's erratic comings and
+goings, that nobody attached any importance to his visits; and even old
+Mr. Heron appeared only for a few minutes to gossip with his son while
+he ate a comfortable supper, retiring at last, with a nod to his niece
+which Percival easily understood. It meant&mdash;"I will do now what you told
+me you wished&mdash;leave you together to have your talk out." And Percival
+felt irritated by Elizabeth's determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you smoke?" she asked, when the meal was over.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind if I do. Will you come into the study&mdash;that's the
+smoking-room, is it not?&mdash;or is it too late for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not very late," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>When they were seated in the study, Percival in a great green arm-chair,
+and Elizabeth opposite to him in a much smaller one, he attempted to
+take matters somewhat into his own hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't ask to-night what you wanted me for," he said, easily. "I am
+rather battered and sleepy; we shall talk better to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"You can set my mind at rest on one point, at any rate," rejoined
+Elizabeth, whose face burned with a feverish-looking flush. "It is, of
+course, a mistake that you knew a week ago of Brian Luttrell being in
+London?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course," said Percival. But the irony in his voice was too plain
+for her to be deceived by it.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know, Percival?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you must have the plain truth," he said, sitting up and
+examining the end of his cigar with much attention, "I did."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent. He raised his eyes, apparently with some effort, to her
+face; saw there a rather shocked and startled look, and rushed
+immediately into vehement speech.</p>
+
+<p>"What if I did! Do you expect me to rush to you with every disturbing
+report I hear? I did not see this man, Brian Luttrell; I should not know
+him if I did&mdash;as Brian Luttrell, at any rate. I merely heard the story
+from a&mdash;an acquaintance of mine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dino Vasari," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see you know the facts. There is no need for me to say any more.
+Of course, you attach no weight to any reasons I might have for
+silence."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I do, Percival; or I should do, if I knew what they were."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not guess them?" he said, looking at her intently. "Can you
+think of no powerful motive that would make me anxious to delay the
+telling of the story?"</p>
+
+<p>"None," she said. "None, except one that would be beneath you."</p>
+
+<p>"Beneath me? Is it possible?" scoffed Percival. "No motive is too base
+for me, allow me to tell you, my dear child. I am the true designing
+villain of romance. Go on: what is the one bad motive which you
+attribute to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not attribute it to you," said Elizabeth, slowly, but with some
+indignation. "I never in my life believed, I never shall believe, that
+you cared in the least whether I was rich or poor."</p>
+
+<p>Percival paused, as if he had met with an unexpected check, and then
+went off into a fit of rather forced laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"So you never thought that," he said. "And that was the only motive that
+occurred to you? Then, perhaps you will kindly tell me the story as it
+was told to you, for you seem to have had a special edition. Has Dino
+Vasari been down here?"</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a short account of the events that had occurred at
+Netherglen, and she noticed that as he listened, he forgot to smoke his
+cigar, and that he leaned his elbow on the arm of the great chair, and
+shaded his eyes with his hand. There was a certain suppressed eagerness
+in his manner, as he turned round when she had finished, and said, with
+lifted eyebrows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"What else do you know?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>He rubbed his hand impatiently backwards and forwards on the arm of the
+chair, and did not speak for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"What does Colquhoun advise you to do?" he asked, presently.</p>
+
+<p>"To wait here until Brian Luttrell is found and brought home."</p>
+
+<p>"Brought home. They think he will come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. Why not? When everybody knows that he is alive there will be
+no possible reason why he should stay away. In fact, if he is a
+right-thinking man, he will see that justice requires him to come home
+at once."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not think, myself, that he was a right-thinking man," said
+Percival, without looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he allowed himself to be thought dead?" said Elizabeth,
+watching him as he relighted his cigar. "But, then, he was in such
+terrible trouble&mdash;and the opportunity offered itself, and seemed so
+easy. Poor fellow! I was always very sorry for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. His mother, at least, Mrs. Luttrell, for I suppose she is not his
+mother really, must have been very cruel. From all that I have heard he
+was the last man to be jealous of his brother, or to wish any harm to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"In short, you are quite prepared to look upon him as a <i>héros de
+roman</i>, and worship him as such when he appears. Possibly you may think
+there is some reason in Dino Vasari's naive suggestion that you should
+marry Mr. Luttrell and prevent any division of the property."</p>
+
+<p>"A suggestion which, from you, Percival, is far more insulting than that
+of the motive which I did not attribute to you," said Elizabeth, with
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't marry Brian Luttrell, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Percival!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not under any consideration? Well, tell me so. I like to hear you say
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me so," he said, stretching out his hand to her, and looking at
+her attentively, "and I will tell you the reason of my week's silence."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no need to tell you so," she answered, in a suppressed voice.
+"And if I did you would not trust me."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, drily, "perhaps not; but promise me, all the same, that
+under no circumstances will you ever marry Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise," she said, in a low tone of humiliation. Her eyes were full
+of tears. "And now let me go, Percival. I cannot stay with you&mdash;when you
+say that you trust me so little."</p>
+
+<p>He had taken advantage of her rising to seize her hand. He now tossed
+his cigar into the fire, and rose, too, still holding her hand in his.
+He looked down at her quivering lips, her tear-filled eyes, with
+gathering intensity of emotion. Then he put both arms round her, pressed
+her to his breast with passionate vehemence, and kissed her again and
+again, on cheek, lip, neck, and brow. She shivered a little, but did not
+protest.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said, suddenly putting her away from him, and standing erect
+with the black frowning line very strongly marked upon his forehead. "I
+will tell you now why I did not try to keep Brian Luttrell in England. I
+knew that I ought to make a row about it. I knew that I was bound in
+honour to write to Colquhoun, to you, to Mrs. Luttrell, to any of the
+people concerned. And I didn't do it. I didn't precisely mean not to do
+it, but I wanted to shift the responsibility. I thought it was other
+people's business to keep him in England: not mine. As a matter of fact,
+I suppose it was mine. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Elizabeth, lifting her lovely, grieved eyes to his stormy
+face. "I think it was partly yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I didn't do it, you see," said Percival. "I was a brute and a
+cad, I suppose. But it seemed fatally easy to hold one's tongue. And now
+he has gone to America."</p>
+
+<p>"But he can be brought back again, Percival."</p>
+
+<p>"If he will come. I fancy that it will take a strong rope to drag him
+back. You want to know the reason for my silence? It isn't far to seek.
+Brian Luttrell and the tutor, Stretton, who fell in love with you, were
+one and the same person. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>And then he walked straight out of the room, and left her to her own
+reflections.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Percival felt a decided dread of his next meeting with Elizabeth. He
+could not guess what would be the effect of his information upon her
+mind, nor what would be her opinion of his conduct. He was in a state of
+exasperating uncertainty about her views. The only thing of which he was
+sure was her love and respect for truthfulness; he did not know whether
+she would ever forgive any lapse from it. "Though, if it comes to that,"
+he said to himself, as he finished his morning toilet, "she ought to be
+as angry with Stretton as she is with me; for he took her in completely,
+and, as for me, I only held my tongue. I suppose she will say that 'the
+motive was everything.' Which confirms me in my belief that one man may
+steal a horse, while the other may not look over the wall." And then he
+went down to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>He was late, of course; when was he not late for breakfast? The whole
+family-party had assembled; even Mrs. Heron was downstairs to welcome
+her step-son. Percival responded curtly enough to their greetings; his
+eyes and ears and thoughts were too much taken up with Elizabeth to be
+bestowed on the rest of the family. And Elizabeth, after all, looked
+much as usual. Perhaps there was a little unwonted colour in her cheek,
+and life in her eye; she did not look as if she had not slept, or had
+had bad dreams; there was rather an unusually restful and calm
+expression upon her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Confound the fellow!"&mdash;thus Percival mentally apostrophised the missing
+Brian Luttrell. "One would think that she was glad of what I told her."
+He was thoroughly put out by this reflection, and munched his breakfast
+in sulky silence, listening cynically to his step-mother's idle
+utterances and Kitty's vivacious replies. He was conscious of some
+disinclination to meet Elizabeth's tranquil glance, of which he bitterly
+resented the tranquillity. And she scarcely spoke, except to the
+children.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder how poor Mrs. Luttrell is to-day," Isabel Heron was saying.
+"It is sad that she should be so ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I wondered yesterday what was the matter, when I met Hugo," said
+Kitty. "He looked quite pale and serious. He was staying at Dunmuir, he
+told me. I suppose he does not find the house comfortable while his aunt
+is ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather a cold-blooded young fellow, if he can consider that," said Mr.
+Heron. "Mrs. Luttrell has always been very kind to him, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he is tired of Netherglen," said Kitty. ("Nobody knows anything
+about the story of the two Brian Luttrells, then!" Percival reflected,
+with surprise. "Elizabeth has a talent for silence when she chooses.")
+Kitty went on carelessly, "Netherglen is damp in this weather. I don't
+think I should care to live there." Then she blushed a little, as though
+some new thought had occurred to her.</p>
+
+<p>"The weather is growing quite autumnal," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "We
+ought to return to town, and make our preparations&mdash;&mdash;" She looked with
+a sly smile from Percival to Elizabeth, and paused. "When is it to be,
+Lizzie?"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth drew up her head haughtily and said nothing. Percival glanced
+at her, and drew no good augury from the cold offence visible in her
+face. There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Heron thought it better
+to dispel by rising from the table.</p>
+
+<p>Percival smoked his morning cigar on the terrace with his father, and
+wondered whether Elizabeth was not going to present herself and talk to
+him. He was ready to be very penitent and make every possible sign of
+submission to her wishes, for he felt that he had wronged her in his
+mind, and that she might justly be offended with him if she guessed his
+thoughts. He paced up and down, looking in impatiently at the windows
+from time to time, but still she came not. At last, standing
+disconsolately in the porch, he saw her passing through the hall with
+little Jack in her arms, and the other boys hanging on to her dress,
+quite in the old Gower-street fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth, won't you come out?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't, just now. I am going to give the children some lessons. I do
+that, first thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Always?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever since Mr. Stretton left," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Give them a holiday. I want you. There are lots of things we have to
+talk about."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there? I thought there was nothing left to say," said she, sweetly
+but coldly. "But I am going to Dunmuir at half-past two this afternoon,
+and you can drive down with me if you like."</p>
+
+<p>She passed on, and shut herself into the study with the children.
+Percival felt injured. "She should not have brought me all the way from
+London if she had nothing to say," he grumbled. "I'll go back to-night.
+And I might as well go and see Colquhoun this morning."</p>
+
+<p>He went down to Mr. Colquhoun's office, and was not received very
+cordially by that gentleman. The interview resulted in rather a violent
+quarrel, which ended by Percival being requested to leave Mr.
+Colquhoun's presence, and not return to it uninvited. Mr. Colquhoun
+could not easily forgive him for neglecting to inform the Luttrells, at
+the earliest opportunity, of Brian's reappearance. "We should have saved
+time, money, anxiety: we might have settled the matter without troubling
+Miss Murray, or agitating Mrs. Luttrell; and I call it downright
+dishonesty to have concealed a fact which was of such vital importance,"
+said Mr. Colquhoun, who had lost his temper. And Percival flung himself
+out of the room in a rage.</p>
+
+<p>He was still inwardly fuming when he seated himself beside Elizabeth
+that afternoon in a little low carriage drawn by two grey ponies&mdash;an
+equipage which she specially affected&mdash;in order to drive to Dunmuir. For
+full five minutes neither of them spoke, but at last Elizabeth said,
+with a faint accent of surprise:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had something to say to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I have so many things that I don't know where to begin. Have you
+nothing to say&mdash;about what I told you last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can only say that I am very glad of it."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce you are!" thought Percival, but his lips were sealed.
+Elizabeth went on to explain herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad, because now I understand various things that were very hard
+for me to understand before. I can see why Mr. Stretton hesitated about
+coming here; I see why he was startled when he discovered that I was the
+very girl whom he must have heard of before he left England. Of course,
+I should never have objected to surrender the property to its rightful
+owner; but in this case I shall be not only willing but pleased to give
+it back."</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was proud and independent. Percival did not like it, but would
+not say so.</p>
+
+<p>"I was saying last night," she continued, "that Brian Luttrell must come
+back. This discovery makes his return all the more necessary. I am going
+now to ask Mr. Colquhoun what steps had better be taken for bringing him
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he will come?"</p>
+
+<p>"He must come. He must be made to see that it is right for him to come.
+I have been thinking of what I will ask Mr. Colquhoun to say to him. If
+he remembers me"&mdash;and her voice sank a little&mdash;"he will not refuse to do
+what would so greatly lighten my burden."</p>
+
+<p>"Better write yourself, Elizabeth," said Percival, in a sad yet cynical
+tone. "You can doubtless say what would bring him back by the next
+steamer."</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer, but set her lips a little more firmly, and gave one
+of the grey ponies a slight touch with the whip. It was the silence that
+caused Percival to see that she was wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a knack of saying what I don't mean," he remarked, rousing
+himself. "I beg your pardon for this and every other rude speech that I
+may make, Elizabeth; and ask you to understand that I am only
+translating my discontent with myself into words when I am ill-tempered.
+Have a little mercy on me, for pity's sake."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. He thought there was some mockery in the smile.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you laughing at?" he said, abruptly, dropping the apologetic
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not laughing. I was wondering that you thought it worth while to
+excuse yourself for such a trifle as a rude word or two. I thought
+possibly, when I came out with you, that you had other apologies to
+make."</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask what you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that, by your own showing, you have not been quite
+straightforward," said Elizabeth, plainly. "And I thought that you might
+have something to say about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not straightforward!" he repeated. It was not often that his cheeks
+tingled as they tingled now. "What have I done to make you call me not
+straightforward, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"You knew that I inherited this property because of Brian Luttrell's
+death. You knew&mdash;did you not?&mdash;that he had only a few days to spend in
+London, and that he meant to start for America this week. You must have
+known that some fresh arrangement was necessary before I could honestly
+enjoy any of his money&mdash;that, in fact, he ought to have it all. And,
+unless he himself confided in you under a promise of secrecy, or
+anything of that sort, I think you ought to have written to Mr.
+Colquhoun at once."</p>
+
+<p>"He did not confide in me: I did not see him. It was Dino Vasari who
+sought me out and told me," said Percival, with some anger.</p>
+
+<p>"And did Dino Vasari intend you to keep the matter a secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. The real fact was, Elizabeth, that I did not altogether believe
+Vasari's story. I did not in the least believe that Brian Luttrell was
+living. I thought it was a hoax. Upon my word, I am half-inclined to
+believe so still. I thought it was not worth while to take the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not know where to find him, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes; I had the address."</p>
+
+<p>"And you did nothing?" she said, flashing upon him a look of indignant
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I did nothing," returned Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I complain of," she remarked, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>For some time she drove on in silence, lightly flicking her ponies'
+heads from time to time with her whip, her face set steadily towards the
+road before her, her strong, well-gloved hands showing determination in
+the very way she held the whip and reins. Percival grew savage, and then
+defiant.</p>
+
+<p>"You ask too much," he said, pulling his long moustache, and uttering a
+bitter laugh. "It would have been easy and natural enough to move Heaven
+and earth for the sake of Brian Luttrell's rights, if Brian Luttrell had
+not constituted himself my rival in another domain. But when his
+'rights' meant depriving you of your property, and placing Mr. Stretton
+in authority&mdash;I decline."</p>
+
+<p>"I call that mean and base," said Elizabeth, giving the words a low but
+clear-toned emphasis, which made Percival wince.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said. And there was another long silence, which lasted
+until they drew up at Mr. Colquhoun's door.</p>
+
+<p>Percival waited for nearly an hour before she came back, and had time to
+go through every possible phase of anger and mortification. He felt that
+he had more reason on his side than Elizabeth could understand: the
+doubt of Dino's good faith, which seemed so small to her, had certainly
+influenced him very strongly. No doubt it would have been
+better&mdash;wiser&mdash;if he had tried to find out the truth of Dino's story;
+but the sting of Elizabeth's judgment lay in the fact that he had
+fervently hoped that Dino's story was not true, and that he had refused
+to meet Dino's offer half-way, the offer that would have secured
+Elizabeth's own happiness. Would she ever hear a full account of that
+interview? And what would she think of his selfishness if she came to
+know it? Ever since that conversation in Mr. Brett's office Percival had
+been conscious of bitter possibilities of evil in his own soul. He had
+had a bad time of it during the past week, and, when he contrasted his
+own conduct with the generous candour and uprightness that Elizabeth
+seemed to expect from him, he was open to confess to himself that he
+fell very short of her standard.</p>
+
+<p>She came back to her place attended by Mr. Colquhoun, who wrapped her
+rugs about her in a fatherly way, and took not the slightest notice of
+Mr. Percival Heron. She had some small purchases to make in the town,
+and it was growing almost dusk before they turned homewards. Then she
+began to speak in her ordinary tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Colquhoun has been telling me what to do," she said, "and I think
+that he is right. Dino Vasari has already gone back to Italy, but before
+he went, he signed a paper relinquishing all claim to the property in
+favour of Brian Luttrell and myself. Mr. Colquhoun says it was a useless
+thing to do, except as it shows his generosity and kindness of heart,
+and that it would not be valid in a court at all; but that nothing
+farther can be done, as he does not press his claim, until Brian
+Luttrell comes back to England or writes instructions. There might be a
+friendly suit when he came; but that would be left for him (and, I
+suppose, myself) to decide. When he comes we shall try to get Dino
+Vasari back, and have a friendly consultation over the matter. I don't
+see why we need have lawyers to interfere at all. I should resign the
+property with a very good grace, but Mr. Colquhoun thinks that Mr.
+Luttrell will have scruples."</p>
+
+<p>"He ought to have," muttered Percival, but Elizabeth took no notice.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems that he went in a sailing vessel," she went on, in a perfectly
+calm and collected voice, "because he could get a very cheap passage in
+that way. Mr. Colquhoun proposes that we should write to Pernambuco; but
+he might not be expecting any letters&mdash;he might miss them&mdash;and go up the
+country; there is no knowing. I think that a responsible, intelligent
+person ought to be sent out by a fast steamer and wait for him at
+Pernambuco. Then everything would be satisfactorily explained and
+enforced&mdash;better than by letter. Mr. Colquhoun says he feels inclined to
+go himself."</p>
+
+<p>She gave a soft, pleased laugh as she said the words; but there was
+excitement and trouble underneath its apparent lightness. "That, of
+course, would never do; but he has a clerk whom he can thoroughly trust,
+and he will start next week for the Brazils."</p>
+
+<p>Percival sat mute. Had she no idea that he was suffering? She went on
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Salt&mdash;that is the clerk's name&mdash;will reach Pernambuco many days
+before the sailing vessel; but it is better that he should be too early
+than too late. They may even pass the <i>Falcon</i>&mdash;that is the name of Mr.
+Luttrell's ship&mdash;on the way. The worst is"&mdash;and here her voice began to
+tremble&mdash;"that Mr. Colquhoun has heard a report that the <i>Falcon</i> was
+not&mdash;not&mdash;quite&mdash;sea-worthy."</p>
+
+<p>She put up one gloved hand and dashed a tear from her eyes. Percival's
+silence exasperated her. For almost the first time she turned upon him
+with a reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you remember," she said, bitterly, "if his ship goes to the
+bottom, that you might have stopped him, and&mdash;did not think it worth
+while to take the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good God, Elizabeth, how unjust you are!" cried Percival, impetuously.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth did not answer. She had to put up her hand again and again to
+wipe away her tears. The strain of self-control had been a severe one,
+and when it once slipped away from her the emotion had to have its own
+way. Percival tried to take the reins from her, but this she would not
+allow; and they were going uphill on a quiet sheltered road of which the
+ponies knew every step as well as he did himself.</p>
+
+<p>When she was calmer, he broke the silence by saying in an oddly-muffled,
+hoarse voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is no use going on like this. I suppose you wish our engagement to
+be broken off?"</p>
+
+<p>"I?" said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you. Can't I see that you care more for this man Stretton or
+Luttrell than you care for me? I don't want my wife to be always sighing
+after another man."</p>
+
+<p>"That you would not have," she said, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care. I know now what you feel. And if Stretton comes back, I
+suppose I must go to the wall."</p>
+
+<p>"I will keep my word to you if you like," said Elizabeth, after a
+moment's pause. She could not speak more graciously. "I did not think of
+breaking off the engagement: I thought that matter was decided."</p>
+
+<p>"You called me mean and base just now, and you expect me to put up with
+it. You think me a low, selfish brute. I may be all that, and not want
+you to tell me so." Some of Percival's sense of humour&mdash;a little more
+grim than usual&mdash;was perceptible in the last few words.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry if I told you so. I will not tell you so again."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will feel it."</p>
+
+<p>"If you are low and base and mean, of course, I shall feel it," said
+Elizabeth, incisively. "It rests with you to show me that you are not
+what you say."</p>
+
+<p>Percival found no word to answer. They were near Strathleckie by this
+time, and turned in at the gates without the exchange of another
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth expected him to insist upon going back to London that night,
+or, at least, early next morning, but he did not propose to do so. He
+hung about the place next day, smoking, and speaking little, with a
+certain yellowness of tint in his complexion, which denoted physical as
+well as mental disturbance. In the afternoon he went to Dunmuir, and was
+away for some hours; and more than one telegram arrived for him in the
+course of the day, exciting Mrs. Heron's fears lest something should
+have "gone wrong" with his business affairs in London. But he assured
+her, on his return, with his usual impatient frown, that everything was
+going exactly as he would like it to do. It was with one of the
+telegraphic despatches crushed up in his hand, that he came to Elizabeth
+as she sat in the drawing-room after dinner, and said, with a little
+paleness visible about his lips:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Can I speak to you for a few moments alone?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, startled; then rose and led the way to an inner
+drawing-room, where they would be undisturbed. She seated herself in the
+chair, which, with unwonted ceremoniousness, he wheeled forward for her;
+but he himself stood on the hearth-rug, twisting and untwisting the
+paper in his hand, as if&mdash;extraordinary occurrence!&mdash;as if he were
+actually nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a proposition to make to you," he said. He uttered his words
+very rapidly, but made long pauses between some of the sentences. "You
+say that Mr. Colquhoun is going to send out his clerk, Salt, to stop
+Brian Luttrell when he lands at Pernambuco. I have just seen Mr.
+Colquhoun, and he agrees with me that this proceeding is of very
+doubtful utility.... Now, don't interrupt me, I beg. If I throw cold
+water on this plan, it is only that I may suggest another which I think
+better.... Salt is a mere clerk: we cannot tell him all the
+circumstances, and the arguments that he will use will probably be such
+as a man like Luttrell will despise. I mean that he will put it on the
+ground of Luttrell's own interests&mdash;not Dino Vasari's, or&mdash;or yours....
+What I propose is that someone should go who knows the story intimately,
+who knows the relations of all the parties.... If you like to trust me,
+I will do my best to bring Brian Luttrell home again."</p>
+
+<p>"You!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Oh, Percival, no."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not? I assure you I will act carefully, and I am sure I shall
+succeed. I have even persuaded Mr. Colquhoun of my good intentions&mdash;with
+some difficulty, I confess. Here is a note from him to you. He read it
+to me after writing it, and I know what he advises you to do."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth read the note. It consisted only of these words: "If you can
+make up your mind to let Mr. Percival Heron go in Salt's place, I think
+it would be the better plan.&mdash;J. C."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be on my good behaviour, I promise you," said Percival, watching
+her, with lightness of tone which was rather belied by the mournful
+expression of his eyes. "I'll play no tricks, either with him or myself;
+and bring him safely back to Scotland&mdash;on my honour, I will. Do you
+distrust me so much, Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no. Would it not be painful to you? I thought&mdash;you did not like
+Mr. Luttrell." She spoke with great hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>Percival made a grimace. "I don't say that I do like him. I mean to say
+that I want to show you&mdash;and myself&mdash;that I do&mdash;a little bit&mdash;regret my
+silence, and will try my best to remedy the mischief caused by it. A
+frank confession which ought to please you."</p>
+
+<p>"It does please me. I am sure of it. But you must not go&mdash;you must not
+leave your work&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my work can be easily done by somebody else. That is what this
+telegram is about, by-the-bye. I must send an answer, and it depends
+upon your decision."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I not consult any one? My uncle? Mr. Colquhoun?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know Mr. Colquhoun's opinion. My father will think exactly as you
+and I do. No, it depends entirely upon whether you think I shall do your
+errand well, Elizabeth, and whether you will give me the chance of
+showing that I am not so ungenerous and so base as you say you think me.
+Tell me to fetch Brian Luttrell home again, and I will go."</p>
+
+<p>And, with tears in her eyes, Elizabeth said, "Go."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>DINO'S HOME-COMING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"It is to be understood," said Percival, two or three days later, with
+an affectation of great precision, "that I surrender none of my rights
+by going on this wild-goose chase. I shall come back in a few months'
+time to claim my bride."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth smiled rather sadly. "Very well," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"In fact," Percival went on expansively, "I shall expect the wedding to
+be arranged for the day after my arrival, whenever that takes place. So
+get your white gown and lace veil ready, and we will have Brian Luttrell
+as best man, and Dino Vasari to give you away."</p>
+
+<p>It was rather cruel jesting, thought Elizabeth; but then Percival was in
+the habit, when he was in a good humour, of turning his deepest feelings
+into jest. The submission with which she listened to him, roused him
+after a time to a perception that his words were somewhat painful to
+her; and he relapsed into a silence which he broke by saying in an
+entirely different sort of voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no message for Brian Luttrell, Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know all that I want to say."</p>
+
+<p>"But is there nothing else? No special message of remembrance and
+friendship?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," said Elizabeth, flushing and then paling again, "that I
+shall not be happy until he comes back and takes what is his own."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't say anything much stronger," said Percival, drily. "I
+will remember."</p>
+
+<p>They talked no more about themselves, until the day on which he was to
+start, and then, when he was about to take his leave of her, he said, in
+a very low voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to be true to me or not when Luttrell comes home,
+Elizabeth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall keep my word to you, Percival. Oh, don't&mdash;don't&mdash;say that to me
+again!" she cried, bursting into tears, as she saw the lurking doubt
+that so constantly haunted his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," he said. "I will never say it again if you tell me that you
+trust me as I trust you."</p>
+
+<p>"I do trust you."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am not so base and mean as you said I was?"</p>
+
+<p>For, perhaps, the first time in her life, she kissed him of her own
+accord. It was with this kiss burning upon his lips that Percival leaned
+out of the window of the railway-carriage as the train steamed away into
+the darkness, and waved a last farewell to the woman he loved.</p>
+
+<p>He had been rather imperious and masterful during the last few days; he
+felt conscious of it now, and was half-sorry for it. It had seemed to
+him that, if he did this thing for Brian Luttrell, he had at least the
+right to some reward. And he claimed his reward beforehand, in the shape
+of close companionship and gentle words from Elizabeth. He did not
+compel her to kiss him&mdash;he remembered his magnanimity in that respect
+with some complacency&mdash;but he had demanded many other signs of
+good-fellowship. And she had seemed ready enough to render them. She had
+wanted to go with him and Mr. Heron to London, and help him to prepare
+for the voyage. But he would not allow her to leave Strathleckie. He had
+only a couple of days to spare, and he should be hurried and busy. He
+preferred saying good-bye to her at Dunmuir.</p>
+
+<p>The reason of his going was kept a profound secret from all the Herons
+except the father, who gave his consent to the plan cordially, though
+with some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"But what will become of your profession?" he had asked of Percival.
+"Won't three or four months' absence put you sadly out of the running?"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget my prospects," Percival replied, with his ready, cynical
+laugh. "When I've squared the matter with Brian Luttrell, and married
+Elizabeth, I shall have no need to think of my profession." Mr. Heron
+shifted his eye-glasses on his nose uneasily, and screwed up his face
+into an expression of mild disapproval, but couldn't think of any
+suitable reply. "Besides," said Percival, "I've got a commission to do
+some papers on Brazilian life. The <i>Evening Mail</i> will take them. And I
+am going to write a book on 'Modern Morality' as I go out. I fully
+expect to make my literary work pay my travelling expenses, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought Elizabeth paid those," said Mr. Heron, in a hesitating sort
+of way.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she thinks she will do so," said Percival, "and that's all she
+need know about the matter."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun, to whom Elizabeth had gone for advice on the day after
+Percival's proposition, was very cautious in what he said to her. "It's
+the best plan in the world," he remarked, "in one way."</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?" asked Elizabeth, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Heron goes as your affianced husband, does he not? Of course,
+he can represent your interests better than anybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought he was going to prevent my interests from being too well
+represented," said Elizabeth, half-smiling. "I want him to make Mr.
+Luttrell understand that I have no desire to keep the property at all."</p>
+
+<p>"There is one drawback," said Mr. Colquhoun, "and one that I don't see
+how Mr. Heron will get over. He has never seen Brian, has he? How will
+he recognise him? For the lad's probably gone under another name. It's
+just a wild-goose chase that he's starting upon, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"They have seen each other."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron didn't tell me that. And where was it they saw each other,
+Miss Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>"In Italy&mdash;and here. Here at Strathleckie. Oh, Mr. Colquhoun, it was
+Brian Luttrell who came with us as the boys' tutor, and we did not know.
+He called himself Stretton." And then Elizabeth shed a small tear or
+two, although she did not exactly know why.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun's wrath and astonishment were not to be described. That
+Brian should have been so near him, and that they should have never met!
+"I should have known him anywhere!" cried the old man. "Grey hair! do
+you tell me? What difference does that make to a man that knew him all
+his life, and his father before him? And a beard, you say? Toots! beard
+or no beard, I should have known Brian Luttrell anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>Angela Vivian, being taken into their confidence, supplied them with
+several photographs of Brian in his earlier days. And Percival was
+admitted to Netherglen to look at a portrait of the brothers (or reputed
+brothers), painted not long before Richard's death. He looked at it long
+and carefully, but acknowledged afterwards that he could not see any
+likeness between his memories of Mr. Stretton and the pictured face,
+with its fine contour, brown moustache, and smiling eyes, a face in
+which an expression of slight melancholy seemed to be the index to
+intense susceptibility of temperament and great refinement of mind. "The
+eyes are like Stretton's," he said, "and that is all." He took two of
+the photographs with him, however, as part of his equipment.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luttrell continued in the state in which she had been found after
+her interview with Dino. She could not speak: she could not move: her
+eyes had an awful consciousness in them which told that she was living
+and knew what was going on around her: otherwise she might easily have
+been mistaken for one already dead. It was difficult to imagine that she
+understood the words spoken in her presence, and for some time her
+attendants did not realise this fact, and spoke with less caution than
+they might have done respecting the affairs of the neighbourhood. But
+when the doctor had declared that her mind was unimpaired, Mr. Colquhoun
+thought it better to come and give her some account of the things that
+had been done during her illness, on the mere chance that she might hear
+and understand. He told her that Dino had gone to Italy, that Brian had
+sailed for South America, and that Percival Heron had gone to fetch him
+back, in order to make some arrangement about the property which
+Elizabeth Murray wished to give up to him. He thought that there was a
+look of relief in her eyes when he had finished; but he could not be
+sure.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo, after staying for some days at the hotel in Dunmuir, ventured
+rather timidly back to Netherglen. Now that Dino was out of the way, he
+did not see why he should not make use of his opportunities. He entered
+the door of his old home, it was true, with a sort of superstitious
+terror upon him: Dino had obtained a remarkable power over his mind, and
+if he had been either in England or Scotland, Hugo would never have
+dared to present himself at Netherglen. But his acquaintances and
+friends&mdash;even Angela&mdash;thought his absence so strange, that he was
+encouraged to pay a call at his aunt's house, and when there, he was
+led, almost against his will, straight into her presence. He had heard
+that she could not speak or move; but he was hardly prepared for the
+spectacle of complete helplessness that met his gaze. There might be
+dread and loathing in the eyes that looked at him out of that impassive
+face; but there was no possibility of the utterance by word of mouth. An
+eternal silence seemed to have fallen upon Margaret Luttrell: her
+bitterest enemy might come and go before her, and against none of his
+devices could she protect herself.</p>
+
+<p>While looking at her, a thought flashed across Hugo's mind, and matured
+itself later in the day into a complete plan of action. He remembered
+the will that Mrs. Luttrell had made in his favour. Had that will ever
+been signed? By the curious brusqueness with which Mr. Colquhoun had
+lately treated him, he fancied that it had. If it was signed, he was the
+heir; he would be the master ultimately of Netherglen. Why should he go
+away? Dino Vasari had ordered him never to come again into Mrs.
+Luttrell's presence; but Dino Vasari was now shut up in some Italian
+monastery, and was not likely to hear very much about the affairs of a
+remote country-house in Scotland. At any rate, when Mrs. Luttrell was
+dead, even Dino could not object to Hugo's taking possession of his own
+house. When Mrs. Luttrell was dead! And when would she die?</p>
+
+<p>The doctor, whom Hugo consulted with great professions of affection for
+his aunt, gave little hope of long life for her. He wondered, he said,
+that she had survived the stroke that deprived her of speech and the use
+of her limbs: a few weeks or months, in his opinion, would see the end.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo considered the situation very seriously. It would be better for him
+to stay at Netherglen, where he could ascertain his aunt's condition
+from time to time, and be sure that there were no signs of returning
+speech and muscular power. Dared he risk disobedience to Dino's command?
+On deliberation, he thought he dare. Dino could prove nothing against
+him: it would be assertion against assertion, that was all. And most
+people would look on the accusations that Dino would bring as positive
+slander. Hugo felt that his greatest danger lay in his own
+cowardice&mdash;his absence of self-control and superstitious fear of Dino's
+eye. But if the young monk were out of England there was no present
+reason to be afraid. And when such a piece of luck had occurred as Mrs.
+Luttrell's paralytic stroke seemed likely to prove to Hugo, it would be
+folly to take no advantage of it. Hugo had had one or two wonderful
+strokes of luck in his life; but he told himself that this was the
+greatest of all. He was rather inclined to attribute it to his
+possession of a medal which had been blessed by the Pope (for, as far as
+he had any religion at all, Hugo was still a Romanist), which his mother
+had hung round his neck whilst he was a chubby-faced boy in Sicily. He
+wore it still, and was not at all above considering it as a charm for
+ensuring him a larger slice of good fortune than would otherwise have
+fallen to his share. And, therefore, in a few days after Mrs. Luttrell's
+seizure, Hugo was once again at Netherglen, ruling even more openly and
+imperiously than he had done in the days of his aunt's health and
+strength. His presence there, and Mrs. Luttrell's helplessness, caused
+some of Angela Vivian's friends to object seriously to her continued
+residence at Netherglen. She was still a young woman of considerable
+beauty; and Hugo was two-and-twenty. Of what use could she be to Mrs.
+Luttrell? She ought, at any rate, to have an older friend to chaperone
+her, to be with her in her walks and drives, and be present at the meals
+which she and Hugo now shared alone. Angela took little notice of the
+remonstrance of aunts and cousins, but when she heard that her brother
+Rupert was coming to stay at the Herons, and proposed to spend a day or
+two at Netherglen on his way thither, she felt a qualm of fear. Rupert
+was very careful of his sister: she felt sure that she would never be
+permitted to do what he thought in the least degree unbecoming.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the man who had resolved to be known as Dino Vasari for his
+lifetime&mdash;or at least until he laid down his name, together with his
+will, his affections, and all his other possessions at the door of the
+religious house which he desired to enter, was hastening towards his old
+home, his birthplace, (whether he was Dino Vasari or Brian Luttrell)
+under sunny Italian skies. He did not quite dare to think how he should
+be received. He had thwarted the plans of the far-seeing monks: he had
+made their anxious efforts for his welfare of no avail. He had thrown
+away the chance of an inheritance which might have been used for the
+benefit of his Church: would the rulers of that Church easily forgive
+him?</p>
+
+<p>He reached San Stefano at night, and took up his quarters at the inn,
+whence he wrote a letter to the Prior, asking to be allowed to see him,
+and hinting at his wish to enter the monastery for life. Perhaps the
+humility of the tone of his epistle made Father Cristoforo suspect that
+something was wrong. To begin with, Dino was not supposed to act without
+the advice of those who had hitherto been his guardians, and he had
+committed an act of grave insubordination in leaving England without
+their permission. The priest to whom he had reported himself on his
+arrival in London, had already complained to Father Cristoforo of the
+young man's self-reliant spirit, and a further letter had given some
+account of "very unsatisfactory proceedings" on Dino's part&mdash;of a
+refusal to tell where he had been or what he had been doing, and,
+finally, of his sudden and unauthorised departure from British shores.
+This letter had not tended to put Father Cristoforo into charity with
+his late pupil&mdash;child of the house, as, in a certain sense, he had been
+for many years, and special pet and favourite with the Prior&mdash;he was
+rather inclined to order Dino back to England without loss of time.
+Padre Cristoforo set a high value upon that inheritance in Scotland. He
+wished to secure it for Dino&mdash;still more for the Church.</p>
+
+<p>He sent back a curt verbal answer. Dino might come to the cloisters on
+the following morning after early mass. The Prior would meet him there
+as he came from the monastery chapel.</p>
+
+<p>Dino was waiting at the appointed hour. In spite of the displeasure
+implied in Padre Cristoforo's message, his heart was swelling with
+delight at the sight of the well-known Italian hills, at the sunshine
+and the sweet scents that came to him with the crystal clearness of the
+Italian atmosphere. He loved the white walls of the monastery, the
+vine-clad slopes and olive groves around it, the glimpses of purple sea
+which one caught from time to time in the openings left in the
+chestnut-woods, where he had wandered so often when he was a boy. These
+things were dear to Dino: he had loved them all his life, and it was a
+veritable home-coming to him when he presented himself at San Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>And yet the home-coming would not be without its peculiar trials. Never
+once had Father Cristoforo been seriously angry with him, and the habit
+of obedience, of almost filial reverence, reviving in Dino's heart as he
+approached the monastery precincts, made him think with some awe of the
+severity which the Prior's face had sometimes shown to impenitent
+culprits. Was he impenitent? He did not know. Was he afraid? No, Dino
+assured himself, looking up to the purple mountains and the cloudless
+sky, with a grave smile of recognition and profound content, he was
+afraid of nothing now.</p>
+
+<p>He waited until the service was over. The peal of the organ, the sound
+of the monks' chant, reached him where he stood, but he did not enter
+the little chapel. A sense of unworthiness came over him. As the short,
+sharp stroke of the bell smote upon his ear, he fell upon his knees, and
+rested his forehead against the wall. Old words of prayer rose
+familiarly to his lips. He remembered his sins of omission and
+commission&mdash;venial faults they would seem, to many of us, but black and
+heinous in pure-hearted Dino's eyes&mdash;and pleaded passionately for their
+forgiveness. And then the words turned into a prayer for the welfare of
+his friend Brian and the woman that Brian loved. Dino was one of those
+rare souls who love their neighbour better than themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The Prior quitted the chapel at last, and approached his former pupil.
+He did not come alone, but the brothers who followed him kept at some
+little distance. Some of the other occupants of the monastery&mdash;monks,
+lay-brothers, pupils&mdash;occasionally passed by, but they did not even lift
+their eyes. Still, there was a certain sense of publicity about the
+interview which made Dino feel that he was not to be welcomed&mdash;only
+judged.</p>
+
+<p>Father Cristoforo's face was terrible in its very impassiveness. There
+was no trace of emotion in those rigidly-set features and piercing eyes.
+He looked at Dino for some minutes before he spoke. The young man
+retained his kneeling posture until the Prior said, briefly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Rise."</p>
+
+<p>Dino stood up immediately, with folded arms and bowed head. It was not
+his part to speak till he was questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"You left England without permission," said the Prior in a dry tone,
+rather of assertion than of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"Reverend Father, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was no reason for me to stay in England. The estate is not mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Who says it is not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reverend Father, I cannot take it away from those to whom it now
+belongs," said Dino, faltering, and growing red and white by turns.</p>
+
+<p>The Prior looked at him with an examining eye. In spite of his apparent
+coldness, he was shocked by the change that he perceived in his old
+pupil's bearing and appearance. The finely-cut face was wasted; there
+were hollows in the temples and the cheeks, the dew of perspiration upon
+the forehead marked physical weakness as well as agitation. There was
+more kindness in the Prior's manner as he said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You felt, perhaps, the need of rest? The English winds are keen. You
+came to recruit yourself before going back to fight your cause in a
+court of law? You wanted help and counsel?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino's head sank lower upon his breast: he breathed quickly, and did not
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Had you not proof sufficient? I sent all necessary papers by a trusty
+messenger. You received them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Dino's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"You have them with you?"</p>
+
+<p>Dino flashed one look of appeal into the Prior's face, and then sank on
+his knees. "Father," he said, desperately, "I have not done as you
+commanded me. I could not fight this cause. I could not turn them out of
+their inheritance&mdash;their home. I destroyed all the papers. There is no
+proof left."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his self-possession the Prior started. Of this contingency
+he had certainly never thought. He came a step nearer to the young man,
+and spoke with astonished urgency.</p>
+
+<p>"You destroyed the proofs? You? Every one of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every one."</p>
+
+<p>A sudden white change passed over Padre Cristoforo's face. His lips
+locked themselves together until they looked like a single line; his
+eyes flashed ominously beneath his heavy brows. In his anger he did, as
+he was privileged to do to any inferior member of his community,
+forgetting that Dino Vasari, with his five-and-twenty years, had passed
+from under his control, and was free to resent an offered indignity. But
+Dino had laid himself open to rebuke by adopting the tone of a penitent.
+Thence it came that the Prior lifted his hand and struck him, as he
+sometimes struck an offending novice&mdash;struck him sharply across the
+face. Dino turned scarlet, and then white as death; he sank a little
+lower, and crushed his thin fingers more closely together, but he did
+not speak. For a moment there was silence. The waiting monks, the
+passing pupils who saw the blow given and received, wondered what had
+been the offence of one who used to be considered the brightest ornament
+of the monastic school, the pride and glory of his teachers. His fault
+must be grave, indeed, if it could move the Prior to such wrath.</p>
+
+<p>Padre Cristoforo stood with his hand lifted as if he meant to repeat the
+blow; then it fell slowly to his side. He gathered his loose, black robe
+round him, as though he would not let his skirts touch the kneeling
+figure before him&mdash;the scorn of his gesture was unmistakable&mdash;and
+hastily turned away. As he went, Dino fell on his face on the marble
+pavement, crushed by the silence rather than the blow. Monks and pupils,
+following the Prior, passed their old companion, and did not dare to
+speak a word of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>But Dino would not move. A wave of religious fervour, of passionate
+yearning for the old devotional life, had come across him. He might die
+on the pavement of the cloister; he would not be sorry even to die and
+have done with the manifold perplexities of life; but he would not rise
+until the Prior&mdash;the only father and protector that he had ever
+known&mdash;bade him rise. And so he lay, while the noon-day sunlight waxed
+and waned, and the drowsy afternoon declined to dewy eve, and the purple
+twilight faded into night. If the hours seemed long or short, he could
+not tell. A sort of stupor came over him. He knew not what was going on
+around him; dimly he heard feet and voices, and the sound of bells and
+music, but which of the sounds came to him in dreams, and which were
+realities, he could not tell. It was certainly a dream that Brian and
+Elizabeth stood beside him hand-in-hand, and told him to take courage.
+That, as he knew afterwards, was quite too impossible to be true. But it
+was a dream that brought him peace.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY LAND AND SEA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At night the Prior sent for him. Dino's hearing was dulled by fatigue
+and fasting: he did not understand at first what was said. But,
+by-and-bye, he knew that he was ordered to go into the guest-room, where
+the Prior awaited his coming. The command gave Dino an additional pang:
+the guest-room was for strangers, not for one who had been as a child of
+the house. But he lifted himself up feebly from the cold stones, and
+followed the lay-brother, who had brought the message, to the appointed
+place.</p>
+
+<p>The Prior was an austere man, but not devoid of compassion, nor even of
+sympathy. He received Dino with no relaxation of his rather grim
+features, but told him to eat and drink before speaking. "I will not
+talk to you fasting," he said; and Dino felt conscious of some touch of
+compassion in the old man's eyes as he looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>Dino sat, therefore, and tried to eat and drink, but the effort was
+almost in vain. When he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of bread and water
+mixed with a little wine, which was all that he could touch, he stood up
+in token that he was ready for the Prior's questions; and Father
+Cristoforo, who had meanwhile been walking up and down the room with a
+restless air, at once stopped short and began to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Let it be remembered that Dino felt towards this rugged-faced,
+stern-voiced priest as loving as a son feels towards a wise father. His
+affections were strong; and he had few objects on which to expend them.
+The Prior's anger meant to him not merely the displeasure of one in
+authority, but the loss of a love which had shielded and enveloped him
+ever since he came to the monastery-school when he was ten years old. He
+seemed to have an absolute need of it; without it, life was impossible
+to go on.</p>
+
+<p>Father Cristoforo was not without visitings of the same sort of feeling;
+but he allowed no trace of such soft-heartedness to appear as he put
+Dino through a searching examination concerning the way in which he had
+spent his time in England. Dino answered his questions fully and
+clearly: he had nothing that he wished to hide. Even the Prior could not
+accuse him of a wish to excuse himself. He told the story of his
+interview with Hugo, of the dinner, of Hugo's attack upon him, and of
+his sojourn in the hospital, where Brian had sought him out and
+convinced him (without knowing that he was doing so) of his innocence
+with respect to Hugo's plot. Then came the story of his intercourse with
+Brian, his discovery that Brian's happiness hinged upon his love for
+Elizabeth Murray, and his attempts to unravel the very tangled skein of
+his friend's fortunes. Mr. Brett's opinion of the case, Brian's letter
+to Mrs. Luttrell, Dino's own visit to Scotland, with its varied effects,
+including the final destruction of the papers&mdash;all this was quietly and
+fully detailed, with an occasional interruption only from Padre
+Cristoforo in the shape of a question or a muttered comment. And when
+the whole story was told the Prior spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Everything that Dino had done was, of course, wrong. He ought never to
+have seen Hugo, or dined with him: he ought to have gone to Father
+Connolly, the priest to whose care he had been recommended, as soon as
+he came out of hospital: he ought never to have interfered in Brian's
+love affairs, nor gone to Scotland, nor sought to impose conditions on
+Mrs. Luttrell, nor, in short, done any of the thousand and one things
+that he had done. As for the destruction of the papers, it was a point
+on which he (Father Cristoforo) hardly dared, he said, with a shrug of
+his shoulders, to touch. The base ingratitude, the unfaithfulness to the
+interests of the Church, the presumption, the pride, the wilfulness,
+manifested in that action, transcended all his powers of reprobation.
+The matter must be referred to a higher authority than his. And so
+forth. And every word he said was like a dagger planted in Dino's
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>As for his desire to be a monk, the Prior repudiated the notion with
+contempt. Dino Vasari a monk, after this lapse from obedience and
+humility? He was not fit to do the humblest work of the lowest servant
+of those who lived by the altar. He had not even shown common penitence
+for his sin. Let him do that: let him humble himself: let him sit in
+dust and ashes, metaphorically speaking: and then, by-and-bye, the
+Church might open her arms to him, and listen to the voice of his
+prayer. But now&mdash;Father Cristoforo declined even to hear any formal
+confession: his pupil must wait and prepare himself, before he was fit
+for the sacrament of penance.</p>
+
+<p>To Dino, this was a hard sentence. He did not know that the Prior was
+secretly much better satisfied with his submissive state of mind than he
+chose to allow, or that he had made up his mind to relax his severity on
+the morrow. Just for this one night the Prior had resolved to be stern
+and harsh. "I will make him eat dust," he said to himself, out of his
+real vexation and disappointment, as he looked vengefully at Dino, who
+was lying face downwards on the ground, weeping with all the
+self-abandonment of his nature. "He must never rebel again." The Prior
+knew that his measures were generally effectual: he meant to take strong
+ones now.</p>
+
+<p>"There is something more in it that I can understand," he murmured to
+himself, presently, after he had taken a few turns up and down the room.
+He halted beside Dino's prostrate form, and looked down upon it with a
+hidden gentleness shining out of his deep-set eyes. But he would not
+speak gently. "You have not told me all," he said. "Rise: let me see
+your face."</p>
+
+<p>Dino struggled to his knees, and, after a moment's hesitation, dropped
+his hands to his sides.</p>
+
+<p>"What else have you to tell me?" said the priest, fixing his eyes on the
+young man's face, as if he could read the secrets of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you all that I did," stammered Dino.</p>
+
+<p>"But not all that you thought."</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence. Then Dino spoke again, in short-broken
+sentences, which at times the Prior could scarcely hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Reverend Father, there is one thought, one feeling. I do not know what
+it is. I am haunted by a face which never leaves me. And yet I saw it
+twice only: once in a picture and once in life; but it comes between me
+and my prayers. I cannot forget her."</p>
+
+<p>"Whose face was this?" asked the Prior, with the subtle change of eye
+and lip which showed that Dino's answer had fulfilled his expectations.
+"Her name?"</p>
+
+<p>But the name that Dino murmured was not one that Padre Cristoforo had
+expected to hear from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Murray!" he repeated. "The woman that Brian Luttrell
+loves&mdash;for whose sake you gave up your inheritance&mdash;that you might not
+turn her out. The mystery is solved. I see the motive now. You love this
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I have loved her, if I do love her," said Dino, passionately,
+his whole face lighting up with impetuous feeling, and his hands
+trembling as they clasped each other, "it is no sin to love."</p>
+
+<p>The Prior gave him a long, steady gaze. "You have sacrificed your faith
+to your love," he said, "and that is a sin. You have forgotten your
+obedience to the Church for a woman's sake&mdash;and that is a sin. Lastly,
+you come here professing a monk's vocation, yet acknowledging&mdash;with
+reluctance&mdash;that this woman's face comes between you and your prayers. I
+do not say that this is a sin, but I say that you had better leave us
+to-morrow, for you have proved yourself unfit for the life that we lead
+at San Stefano. Go back to Scotland and marry. Or, if you cannot do
+that, we will give you money, and start you in some professional career;
+your aims are too low, your will is too weak, for us."</p>
+
+<p>Again the Prior was not quite in earnest. He wanted to try the strength
+of his pupil's resolve. But when Dino said, "I will not leave you, I
+will tend the vines and the goats at your door, but I will never go
+away," the priest felt a revival of all the old tenderness which he had
+been used to lavish silently on the brown-eyed boy who had come to him
+from old Assunta.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not go!" cried Dino. "I have no one in the world but you. Ah, my
+father, will you never forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not my forgiveness you need," said the Prior, shortly. "But come,
+the hour is late. We will give you shelter for the night, at least."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go to the chapel first," pleaded Dino, in a voice which had
+suddenly grown faint. "I dared not enter it this morning, but now let me
+pray there for a little while. I must ask forgiveness there."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray there if you choose," said the Prior; "and pray for the penitence
+which you have yet to learn. When that is won, then talk of
+forgiveness."</p>
+
+<p>He coldly withdrew the hand that Dino tried to kiss; he left the room
+without uttering one word of comfort or encouragement. It was good for
+his pupil, he thought, to be driven well-nigh to despair.</p>
+
+<p>Dino, left to himself, remained for a few minutes in the posture in
+which the Prior had left him; then rose and made his way, slowly and
+feebly, to the little monastery chapel, where a solitary lamp swung
+before the altar, and a flood of moonlight fell through the coloured
+panes of the clerestory windows. Dino stood passive in that flood of
+moonlight, almost forgetting why he had come. His brain was dizzy, his
+heart was sick. His mind was distracted with the thought of a guilt
+which he did not feel to be his own, of sin for which his conscience did
+not smite him. For, with a strange commingling of clear-sightedness and
+submission to authority, he still believed that he had done perfectly
+right in giving up his claim to the Scotch estate, and yet, with all his
+heart, desired to feel that he had done wrong. And when the words with
+which Father Cristoforo had reproached him came back to his mind, his
+burden seemed greater than he could bear. With a moan of pain he sank
+down close beside the altar-steps. And there, through the midnight
+hours, he lay alone and wrestled with himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was no use. Everything fell from him in that hour except that faith
+and that love which had been the controlling powers of his life. He had
+loved Brian as a brother; and he had done well: he had loved
+Elizabeth&mdash;though he had not known that the dreaming fancies which had
+lately centred round her deserved the name which the Prior had given to
+them&mdash;and he had not done ill; and it was right that he should give to
+them, what might, perhaps, avail to make their lives a little
+happier&mdash;at any rate all that he had to give. The Prior had said that he
+was wrong. And would the good God, whom he had always loved and
+worshipped from the days of his earliest boyhood, would the Good God
+condemn him, too! He did not think so. He was not sorry for what he had
+done at all.</p>
+
+<p>No, he did not repent.</p>
+
+<p>But how would it fare with him next day if he told the Prior this, the
+inmost conviction of his heart? He would be told again that he was not
+fit to be a monk. And the desire to be a monk&mdash;curious as it may seem to
+us&mdash;had grown up with Dino as a beautiful ideal. Was he now to be thrust
+out into the world&mdash;the world where men stole and lied and stabbed each
+other in the dark, all for the sake of a few acres of land or a handful
+of gold pieces&mdash;and denied the hard, ascetic, yet tranquil and
+finely-ordered life which he had hoped to lead, when he put on his
+monkish robe, for the remainder of his days?</p>
+
+<p>Dino was an enthusiast: he might, perhaps, have been disenchanted if he
+had lived as one of themselves amongst the brethren who seemed to him so
+enviable; but just now his whole being rose in revolt against a decision
+which deprived him of all that he had been taught to consider blessed.</p>
+
+<p>Then a strange revulsion of feeling came. There were good men in the
+world, he remembered, as well as bad: there were beautiful women; there
+was art, and music, and much that makes life seem worth living. Why,
+after all, if the monks rejected him, should he not go to the world and
+take his pleasure there like other men? And there came a vision of
+Elizabeth, with her pale face turned to him in pity, and her hand
+beckoning him to follow her. Then, after a little interval, he came to
+himself, and knew that his mind had wandered; and so, in order to steady
+his thoughts, he began to speak aloud, and a novice, who had been sent
+to say a certain number of prayers at that hour in church by way of
+penance, started from a fitful slumber on his knees, and heard the words
+that Dino said. They sounded strange to the young novice: he repeated
+them next day with a sense that he might be uttering blasphemy, and was
+very much astonished when the Prior drew his hand across his eyes as if
+to wipe away a tear, and did not seem horrified in the very least. And
+this was what Dino said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong! Wrong! All wrong! And yet it seemed right to love God's
+creatures.... Perhaps I loved them too much. So I am punished.... But,
+after all, He knows: He understands. If they put me out of His church,
+perhaps He will let me serve Him somewhere&mdash;somehow&mdash;I don't know where:
+He knows. Oh, my God, if I have loved another more than Thee, forgive
+me ... and let me rest ... for I am tired&mdash;tired&mdash;tired&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The voice sank into an inarticulate murmur, in which the novice,
+frightened and perplexed, could not distinguish words. Then there was
+silence. One little sigh escaped those lips, and that was all. The
+novice turned and fled, terrified at those words of prayer, which seemed
+to him so different from any that he had ever heard&mdash;so different that
+they must be wrong!</p>
+
+<p>At four in the morning the monks came in to chant their morning prayer.
+One by one they dropped into their places, scarcely noticing the
+prostrate figure before the altar-steps. It was usual enough for one of
+their number, or even a stranger staying in the monastery, to humiliate
+himself in that manner as a public penance. The Prior only gave a little
+start, as if an electric shock passed through his frame, when, on taking
+his seat in the choir, his eye fell upon that motionless form. But he
+did not leave his place until the last prayer had been said, the last
+psalm chanted. Then he rose and walked deliberately to the place where
+Dino lay, and laid his hand upon his head.</p>
+
+<p>"My son!" he said, gently. There was a great fear in his face, a tremor
+of startled emotion in his voice. "Dino, my beloved! I pardon thee."</p>
+
+<p>But Dino did not hear. His prayer had been granted him; he was at rest.
+God had been more merciful than man. The Prior's pardon came too late.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And far away, on a southern sea, where each great wave threatened to
+engulf the tiny boat which seemed like a child's toy thrown upon the
+waters, three men were struggling for dear life&mdash;for the life that Dino
+Vasari had been so ready to lay down&mdash;toiling, with broken oars, and
+roughly-fashioned sails, and ragged streamers as signals of distress, to
+win their way back to solid land, and live once more with their fellows
+the common but precious life of common men.</p>
+
+<p>They had narrowly escaped death by fire, and were fast losing hope of
+ultimate rescue. For five days they had been tossing on the waves of the
+Southern Atlantic, and they had seen as yet no sign of land; no friendly
+sail bearing down upon them to bring relief. Their stock of food was
+scanty, the water supply had now entirely failed. The tortures of a
+raging thirst under a sultry sky had begun: the men's lips were black
+and swollen, their bloodshot eyes searched the horizon in anguished,
+fruitless yearning. There was no cloud in all the great expanse of blue:
+there was nothing to be seen between sea and sky but this one frail boat
+with its three occupants. Another and a larger boat had set out with
+them, but they had lost sight of it in the night. There had been five
+men in this little cockle-shell when they left the ship; but one of them
+had lost his senses and jumped over-board, drowning before their very
+eyes; and one, a mere lad, had died on the second day from injuries
+received on board the burning vessel. And of the three who were left, it
+seemed as if one, at least, would speedily succumb to the exposure and
+privations which they had been driven to endure.</p>
+
+<p>This man lay prostrate at the bottom of the boat. He could hold out no
+longer. His half-closed eyes, his open mouth and swollen features showed
+the suffering which had brought him to this pass. Another man sat bowed
+together in a kind of torpor. A third, the oldest and most experienced
+of the party, kept his hand upon the tiller; but there was a sullen
+hopelessness in his air, a nerveless dejection in the pose of his limbs,
+which showed that he had neither strength nor inclination to fight much
+longer against fate.</p>
+
+<p>It was at nine o'clock on the fifth day of their perilous voyage, that
+the steersman lifted up his eyes, and saw a faint trail of smoke on the
+horizon. He uttered a hoarse, inarticulate cry, and rose up, pointing
+with one shaking finger to the distant sign. "A steamer!" He could say
+nothing more, but the word was enough. It called back life even to the
+dull eyes of the man who had lain down to die. And he who was sitting
+with his head bowed wearily upon his knees, looked up with a quick,
+sudden flicker of hope which seemed likely enough to be extinguished as
+soon as it was evident.</p>
+
+<p>For it was probable that the steamer would merely cross the line of
+vision and disappear, without approaching them near enough to be of any
+use. Eagerly they watched. They strained their eyes to see it: they
+spent their strength in rigging up a tattered garment or two to serve as
+a signal of distress. Then, they waited through hours of sickening,
+terrible suspense. And the steamer loomed into sight: nearer it came and
+nearer. They were upon its track: surely succour was nigh at hand.</p>
+
+<p>And succour came. The great vessel slackened its pace: it came to a
+standstill and waited, heaving to and fro upon the waters, as if it were
+a live thing with a beating and compassionate heart. The two men in the
+boat, standing up and faintly endeavouring to raise their voices, saw
+that a great crowd of heads was turned towards them from the sides of
+the vessel, that a boat was lowered and pushed off. The plashing of
+oars, the sound of a cheer, came to the ears of the seafarers. The old
+sailor muttered something that sounded like "Thank God!" and his
+companion burst into tears, but the man at the bottom of the boat lay
+still: they had not been able to make him hear or understand. The
+officer in the boat from the steamer stood up as it approached, and to
+him the old man addressed himself as soon as he could speak.</p>
+
+<p>"We're the second mate and bo'sun of the <i>Falcon</i>, sir, and one steerage
+passenger. Destroyed by fire five days ago; and we've been in this here
+cockle-shell ever since." But his voice was so husky and dry that he was
+almost unintelligible. "Mates, for the love of Heaven, give us summat to
+drink," cried the other man, as he was lifted into the boat. And in a
+few minutes they were speeding back to the steamer, and the sailors were
+trying to pour a few drops of brandy and water down the parched throat
+of the one man who seemed to be beyond speech and movement.</p>
+
+<p>The mate was able to give a concise account of the perils of the last
+few days when he arrived on board the <i>Arizona</i>; but there was little to
+relate. The story of a fire, of a hurried escape, of the severance of
+the boats, and the agonies of thirst endured by the survivors had
+nothing in it that was particularly new. The captain dismissed the men
+good-humouredly to the care of cook and steward: it was only the
+steerage passenger who required to be put under the doctor's care. It
+seemed that he had been hurt by the falling of a spar, and severely
+scorched in trying to save a child who was in imminent danger; and,
+though he had at first been the most cheery and hopeful of the party,
+his strength had soon failed, and he had lain half or wholly unconscious
+for the greater part of the last two or three days.</p>
+
+<p>There was one passenger on board the <i>Arizona</i> who listened to all these
+details with a keener interest than that shown by any other listener. He
+went down and talked to the men himself as soon as he had the chance and
+asked their names. One of the officers came with him, and paid an almost
+equally keen attention to the replies.</p>
+
+<p>"Mine's Thomas Jackson, sir; and the bo'sun's name it is Fall&mdash;Andrew
+Fall. And the passenger, sir? Steerage he was: he was called Mackay."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he warn't," said the boatswain, in a gruff tone. "Saving your
+presence, sir, his name was Smith."</p>
+
+<p>"Mackay," said the mate, with equal positiveness. "And a fine fellow he
+was, too, and one of the best for cheering of us up with his stories and
+songs; and not above a bit of a prayer, too, when the worst came to the
+worst. I heard him myself."</p>
+
+<p>"No sign of your friend here, Mr. Heron, I'm afraid," whispered the
+ship's officer.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid not. Was there a passenger on board the <i>Falcon</i> called
+Stretton."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I'm sure o' that."</p>
+
+<p>"Or&mdash;Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival Heron knew well enough that no such name had been found amongst
+the list of passengers; but he had a vague notion that Brian might have
+resumed his former appellation for some reason or other after he came on
+board. Thomas Jackson considered the subject for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't rightly sure, sir. Seems to me there was a gent of that name,
+or something like it, on board: but if so, he was amongst those in the
+other boat."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see this man Mackay&mdash;or Smith," said Percival.</p>
+
+<p>The berth in which the steerage passenger lay was pointed out to him: he
+looked at the face upon the pillow, and shook his head. A rough,
+reddened, blistered face it was, with dirt grained into the pores and
+matting the hair and beard: not in the least like the countenance of the
+man whom he had come to seek.</p>
+
+<p>"We may fall in with the other boat," suggested the officer.</p>
+
+<p>But though the steamer went out of her course in search of it, and a
+careful watch was kept throughout the day and night, the other boat
+could not be seen.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>WRECKED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Percival cultivated acquaintance with the two sailors, and tried to
+obtain from them some description of the passengers on board the
+<i>Falcon</i>. But description was not their forte. He gained nothing but a
+clumsy mass of separate facts concerning passengers and crew, which
+assisted him little in forming an opinion as to whether Brian Luttrell
+had, or had not, been on board. He was inclined to think&mdash;not.</p>
+
+<p>"But he seemed to have a slippery habit of turning up in odd places
+where you don't in the least expect to find him," soliloquised Percival
+over a cigar. "Why couldn't he have stayed comfortably dead in that
+glacier? Or why did the brain fever not carry him off? He has as many
+lives as a cat. He, drowned or burnt when the <i>Falcon</i> was on fire? Not
+a bit of it. I'll believe in Mr. Brian Luttrell's death when I have seen
+him screwed into his coffin, followed him to the grave, ordered a
+headstone, and written his epitaph. And even then, I should feel that
+there was no knowing whether he had not buried himself under false
+pretences, and was, in reality, enjoying life at the Antipodes. I don't
+know anybody else who can be, 'like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once.'
+I shall nail him to one <i>alias</i> for the future, if I catch him. But
+there seems very little chance of my catching him at all. I've come on a
+wild-goose chase, and can't expect to succeed."</p>
+
+<p>This mood of comparative depression did not last long. Percival felt
+certain that the other boat would be overtaken, or that Brian would be
+found to have sailed in another ship. He could not reconcile himself to
+any idea of returning to Elizabeth with his task half done.</p>
+
+<p>They were nearing the Equator, and the heat of the weather was great. It
+was less fine, however, than was usually the case, and when Percival
+turned into his berth one night, he noticed that the stars were hidden,
+and that rain was beginning to fall. He slept lightly, and woke now and
+then to hear the swish of water outside, and the beat of the engines,
+the dragging of a rope, or the step of a sailor overhead. He was
+dreaming of Elizabeth, and that she was standing with him beside Brian
+Luttrell's grave, when suddenly he awoke with a violent start, and a
+sense that the world was coming to an end. In another moment he was out
+of his berth and on the floor. There had been a scraping sound, then a
+crash&mdash;and then the engines had stopped. There was a swaying sensation
+for a second or two, and then another bump. Percival knew instinctively
+what was the matter. The ship had struck.</p>
+
+<p>After that moment's silence there was an outcry, a trampling of feet, a
+few minutes' wild confusion. The voice of the captain rose strong and
+clear above the hubbub as he gave his orders. Percival, already
+half-dressed, made his appearance on deck and soon learned what was the
+matter. The ship had struck twice heavily, and was now filling as
+rapidly as possible. The sailors were making preparations for launching
+the long boat. "Women and children first," said the captain, in his
+stentorian tones.</p>
+
+<p>The noise subsided as he made his calm presence felt. The children
+cried, indeed, and a few of the women shrieked aloud; but the men
+passengers and crew alike, bestirred themselves to collect necessary
+articles, to reassure the timid, and to make ready the boats.</p>
+
+<p>Percival was amongst the busiest and the bravest. His strength made him
+useful, and it was easier for him to use it in practical work than to
+stand and watch the proceedings, or even to console women and children.
+For one moment he had a deep and bitter sense of anger against the
+ordering of his fate. Was he to go down into the deep waters in the
+hey-day of his youth and strength, before he had done his work or tasted
+the reward of work well done? Had Brian Luttrell experienced a like
+fate? And what would become of Elizabeth, sitting lonely in the midst of
+splendours which she had felt were not justly hers, waiting for weeks
+and months and years, perhaps, for the lovers who would never come back
+until the sea gave up its dead?</p>
+
+<p>Percival crushed back the thought. There was no time for anything but
+action. And his senses seemed gifted with preternatural acuteness. He
+saw a child near him put her little hand into that of a
+soldierly-looking man, and heard her whisper&mdash;"You won't leave me,
+papa?" And the answer&mdash;"Never, my darling. Don't fear." Just behind him
+a man whispered in a woman's ear&mdash;"Forgive me, Mary." Percival wondered
+vaguely what that woman had to forgive. He never saw any of the speakers
+again.</p>
+
+<p>For a strange thing happened. Strange, at least, it seemed to him; but
+he understood it afterwards. The ship was really resting upon a ledge of
+the rock on which she had struck: there was little to be seen in the
+darkness except a white line of breakers and a mass of something
+beyond&mdash;was it land? The ship gave a sudden outward lurch. There went up
+a cry to Heaven&mdash;a last cry from most of the souls on board the
+ill-fated <i>Arizona</i>&mdash;and then came the end. The vessel fell over the
+edge of the rocky shelf into deep water and went down like a stone.</p>
+
+<p>Percival was a good swimmer, and struck out vigorously, without any
+expectation, however, of being able to maintain himself in the water for
+more than a very short time. Escape from the tangled rigging and
+floating pieces of the wreck was a difficult matter; but the water was
+very calm inside the reef, and not at all cold. He tried to save a woman
+as she was swept past him: for a time he supported a child, but the
+effort to save it was useless. The little creature's head struck against
+some portion of the wreck and it was killed on the spot. Percival let
+the little dead face sink away from him into the water and swam further
+from the point where it went down.</p>
+
+<p>"There must be others saved as well as myself," he thought, when he was
+able to think at all coherently. "At least, let me keep myself up till
+daylight. One may see some way of escape then." It had been three
+o'clock when the ship struck. He had remembered to look at his watch
+when he was first aroused. Would his strength last out till morning?</p>
+
+<p>If his safety had depended entirely on his swimming powers he would have
+been, indeed in evil case. But long before the first faint streak of
+dawn appeared, it seemed to him that he was coming in contact with
+something solid&mdash;that there was something hard and firm beneath him
+which he could touch from time to time. The truth came to him at last.
+The tide was going down; and as it went down, it would leave a portion
+of the reef within his reach. There might be some unwashed point to
+which he could climb as soon as daylight came. At any rate, as the
+waters ebbed, he found that he could cling to the rock, and then, that
+he could even stand upon it, although the waves broke over him at every
+moment, and sometimes nearly washed him from his hold.</p>
+
+<p>Never was daylight more anxiously awaited. It came at last; a faint,
+grey light in the east, a climbing flush of rose-colour, a host of
+crimson wavelets on a golden sea. And, as soon as the darkness
+disappeared, Percival found that his conjecture was a correct one. He
+was not alone. There were others beside himself who had won their way to
+even safer positions than his own. Portions of the reef on which the
+ship had struck were now to be plainly seen above the sea-level; it was
+plain that they were rarely touched by the salt water, for there was an
+attempt at vegetation in one or two places. And beyond the reef Percival
+saw land, and land that it would be easy enough to reach.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to look for the remains of the <i>Arizona</i>, but there was little
+to be seen. The tops of her masts were visible only in the deep water
+near the reef. Spars, barrels, articles of furniture, could here and
+there be distinguished; nothing of value nor of interest. Percival
+determined to try for the shore. But first he would see whether he could
+help the other men whom he had discerned at a little distance from him
+on a higher portion of the reef.</p>
+
+<p>He crept out to them, feeling his way cautiously, and not sure whether
+he might not be swept off his feet by the force of the waves. To his
+surprise, when he reached the two men, he found that they were two of
+the survivors from the wreck of the <i>Falcon</i>. One of them was Thomas
+Jackson, and the other was Mackay, the steerage passenger.</p>
+
+<p>"It's plain you weren't born to be drowned," said Percival, addressing
+Jackson, familiarly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, it don't seem like it," returned the man. "There's one or two
+more that have saved themselves by swimming, too, I fancy. We'd better
+make land while we can, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Your friend's not able to help himself much, is he?" said Percival,
+with a sharp glance at the bearded face of the steerage passenger.</p>
+
+<p>"Swims like a duck when he's all right, sir; but at present he's got a
+broken leg. Fainted just now; he'll be better presently. I wouldn't have
+liked to leave him behind."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll haul him ashore between us," said Percival.</p>
+
+<p>It was more easily said than done; but the task was accomplished at
+last. Thomas Jackson was of a wiry frame: Percival's trained muscles (he
+had been in the boats at Oxford) stood him in good stead. They reached
+the mainland, carrying the steerage passenger with them; for the poor
+man, not yet half-recovered from the effects of exposure and privation,
+and now suffering from a fracture of the bone just above the ankle, was
+certainly not in a fit state to help himself. On the island they found a
+few cocoa-nut trees: under one of these they laid their burden, and then
+returned to the shore to see whether there was any other castaway whom
+they could assist.</p>
+
+<p>In this search they were successful. One man had already followed their
+example and swam ashore, but he was so much exhausted that they felt
+bound to help him to the friendly shade of the cocoa-nut trees, where
+the steerage passenger, now conscious of his position, and as deadly
+white with the pain of his broken bone as the discolouration of his
+scorched face permitted him to be, moved aside a little in order to make
+room for him. There was another man on the reef; but he had been crushed
+between the upper and lower topsails, and it was almost impossible to
+get him to shore. Percival and Jackson made the effort, but a great wave
+swept the man into a cavern of the reef to which he was clinging before
+they could come to his assistance, and he was not seen again. With a lad
+of sixteen and another sailor they were more fortunate. So that when at
+last they met under the tree to compare notes and count their numbers,
+they found that the party consisted of six persons: Heron, Thomas
+Jackson, and his pet, the steerage passenger; George Pollard, the
+steward; Fenwick, the sailor; and Jim Barry, the cabin boy. They stared
+at each other in rather helpless silence for about a minute, and then
+Heron burst into a strange laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've heard of a desert island all my life," he said, "but I never
+was on one before."</p>
+
+<p>"I was," said Fenwick, slowly, "and I didn't expect to get landed upon
+another. But, Lord! if once you go to sea, there's no telling."</p>
+
+<p>"You must feel thankful that you're landed at all," remarked Percival.
+"You might have been food for the fishes by this time."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd most as soon," said Fenwick, in a stolid tone, which had a
+depressing effect on the spirits of some of the party. The lad Barry
+began to whimper a little, and Pollard looked very downcast.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up, lads," said Percival, quickly. It was wonderful to see how
+naturally he fell into a position of command amongst them. "That isn't
+the way to get home again. Never fear but a ship will pass the island
+and pick us up. We can't be far out of the ordinary course of the
+steamers. We shall be here a day or two only, or a week, perhaps. What
+do you say, Jackson?"</p>
+
+<p>Jackson drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and seemed to
+meditate a reply; but while he considered the matter, the steerage
+passenger spoke for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron is right," he said, causing Percival a moment's surprise at
+the fact of his name being so accurately known by a man to whom he had
+never spoken either on board the <i>Arizona</i> or since they landed. "We all
+ought to feel thankful to Almighty God for bringing us safe to land,
+instead of grumbling that the island has no inhabitants. We have had a
+wonderful escape."</p>
+
+<p>"And so say I, sir," said Jackson, touching an imaginary cap with his
+forefinger, while Barry and Fenwick both looked a little ashamed of
+themselves, and Pollard mechanically followed the example set by the
+sailor. "Them as grumbles had better keep out of my sight unless they
+want to be kicked."</p>
+
+<p>"You're fine fellows, both of you," cried Percival, heartily. And then
+he shook hands with Jackson, and would have followed suit with the
+steerage passenger, had not Mackay drawn back his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not in condition for shaking hands with anybody," he said, with a
+smile; and Percival remembered his burns and was content.</p>
+
+<p>"I know this place," said Jackson, looking round him presently. "It's a
+dangerous reef, and there's been a many accidents near it. Ships give it
+a wide berth, as a general rule." The men's faces drooped when they
+heard this sentence. "The <i>Duncan Dunbar</i> was wrecked here on the way to
+Auckland. The <i>Mercurius</i>, coming back from Sydney by way of 'Frisco,
+she was wrecked, too&mdash;in '70. It's the Rocas Reef, mates, which you may
+have heard of or you may not; and, as near as I remember, it's about
+three degrees south of the Line: longitude thirty-three twenty, west."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember now," said Percival, eagerly. His work as a journalist
+helped him to remember the event to which Jackson alluded. "The men of
+the <i>Mercurius</i> found some iron tanks filled with water, left by the
+<i>Duncan Dunbar</i> people. We might go and see if they are still here. But
+first we must attend to this man's leg."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not very bad," said Mackay.</p>
+
+<p>"It's tremendously swollen, at any rate. Are you good at this sort of
+work, Jackson? I can't say I am."</p>
+
+<p>"I know something about it," said Jackson. "Let's have a look, mate."</p>
+
+<p>He knelt down and felt the swollen limb, putting its owner to
+considerable pain, as Percival judged from the way in which he set his
+teeth during the operation. Jackson had, however, a tolerable knowledge
+of a rough sort of surgery, and managed to set the bone and bind up the
+swollen limb in a manner that showed skill and tenderness as well as
+knowledge. And then Percival proposed that they should try to find some
+food, and make the tour of the island before the day grew hotter. The
+leadership of the party had been tacitly accorded to him from the first;
+and, after a consultation with the others, Jackson stepped forward to
+say that they all wished to consider themselves under Mr. Heron's
+orders, "he having more head than the rest of them, and being a
+gentleman born, no doubt." At which Heron laughed good-humouredly and
+accepted the position. "And none of us grudge you being the head," said
+Jackson, sagely, "except, maybe, one, and he don't count." Heron made no
+response; but he wondered for a moment whether the one who grudged him
+his leadership could possibly be Mackay, whose eyes had a quiet
+attentiveness to all his doings, which looked almost like criticism. But
+there was no other fault to be found with Mackay's manner, while against
+Fenwick's dogged air Percival felt some irritation.</p>
+
+<p>The want of food was decidedly the first difficulty. Sea-birds' eggs and
+young birds, shell-fish and turtle, were all easily to be obtained; but
+how were they to be cooked? Percival was not without hopes that some
+tinned provisions might be cast ashore from the wreck; but at present
+there was nothing of the kind to be seen. A few cocoa-nuts were
+procurable: and these provided them with meat and drink for the time
+being. Then came the question of fire. The only possible method of
+obtaining it was the Indian one of rubbing two sticks diligently
+together for the space of some two hours; and Thomas Jackson sat down
+with stoical patience worthy of an Indian himself to fulfil this
+operation.</p>
+
+<p>Percival, who felt that he could not bear to be doing nothing, started
+off for a walk round the island, and the rest of the party dozed in the
+shade until the return of their leader.</p>
+
+<p>When Heron came back he made his report as cheerful as he could, but he
+could not make it a particularly brilliant one, although he did his
+best. He was one of those men who grumble at trifles, but are unusually
+bright and cheerful in the presence of a great emergency. The sneer had
+left his face, the cynical accent had disappeared from his voice; he
+employed all his social gifts, which were naturally great, for the
+entertainment of his comrades. As they ate boiled eggs and fried fish
+and other morsels which seemed especially dainty when cooked over the
+fire that Jackson's patient industry had lighted at last, the spirits of
+the whole party seemed to rise; and Percival's determination to look
+upon the bright side of things, produced a most enlivening effect. Some
+of them remembered afterwards, with a sort of puzzled wonder, that they
+had more than once laughed heartily during their first meal upon the
+Rocas Reef.</p>
+
+<p>Yet none of them were insensible to the danger through which they had
+passed, nor the terrible position in which they stood. Uppermost in the
+minds of each, although none of them liked to put it into words, was the
+question&mdash;How long shall we stay here? Is it likely that any ship will
+observe our signal of distress and come to our aid? They looked each
+other furtively in the eyes, and read no comfort in each other's face.</p>
+
+<p>They had landed upon one of two islands, about fifteen acres each in
+size, which were separated at high water, but communicated with each
+other when the tide had ebbed. Both islands lay low, and had patches of
+white sand in the centre; but there was very little vegetation. Even
+grass seemed as if it would not grow; and the cocoa-nut trees were few
+and far between.</p>
+
+<p>The signs of previous wrecks struck the men's hearts with a chill. There
+was a log hut, to which Mackay was moved when evening came on; there
+were the iron tanks of which Percival had made mention, filled with
+rain-water; there were some rotten boards, and a small hammer and a
+broken knife; but there was no fresh-water spring, and there were no
+provision chests, such as Heron had vainly hoped to find.</p>
+
+<p>The setting up of a distress-signal on the highest point of the island
+was the next matter to be attended to; and for this purpose nothing
+could be found more suitable than a very large yellow silk-handkerchief
+which Percival had found in his pocket. It did not make a very large
+flag, although it was enormous as a handkerchief; but no other article
+of clothing could well be spared. Indeed, the spareness of their
+coverings was a matter of some regret and anxiety on Percival's part. He
+could not conceive what they were to do if they were on the island for
+more than a few days; the rough work which would be probably necessary
+being somewhat destructive of woollen and linen garments. Jackson, with
+whom he ventured a joke on the subject, did not receive it in very good
+part. "You needn't talk as if we was to stay here for ever, Mr. Heron,
+sir," he murmured. "But there's always cocoa-nut fibre, if the worst
+comes to the worst."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, cocoa-nut fibre," said Percival, turning his eyes to one of
+the slim, straight stems of the palm trees. "I forgot that. I seem to
+have walked straight into one of Jules Verne's books. Gad! I wish I
+could walk out of it again. What a thrilling narrative I'll make of this
+for the <i>Mail</i> when I get home. If ever I do get home. Bah, it's no use
+to talk of that."</p>
+
+<p>These reflections were made under his breath, while Jackson walked on to
+examine a nest of sea-birds' eggs; for Percival was wisely resolved
+against showing a single sign of undue anxiety or depression of spirits,
+lest it should re-act on the minds of those who had declared themselves
+his followers. For the rest of the day the party worked hard at various
+contrivances for their own welfare and comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Firewood was collected; birds and fish caught for the evening meal. To
+each member of the party a task was assigned: even Mackay could make
+himself useful by watching the precious flame which must never be
+suffered to go out. And thus the day wore on, and night came with its
+purple stillness and its tropical wealth of stars.</p>
+
+<p>The men sought shelter in the hut: Percival only, by his own choice,
+remained outside until he thought that they were sleeping. He wanted to
+be alone. He had banished reflection pretty successfully during the day;
+but at night he knew that it would get the better of him. And he felt
+that he must meet and master the thronging doubts and fears and regrets
+that assailed him. Whatever happened he would not be sorry that he had
+come. If he never saw Elizabeth's face again, he was sure that her
+memories of him would be full of tenderness. What more did he want? And
+yet he wanted more.</p>
+
+<p>He found out what his heart desired before he laid himself down to sleep
+amongst the men. He would have given a year of his life to know whether
+Brian Luttrell was alive or dead. And he could not honestly say that he
+wished Brian Luttrell to be alive.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE ROCAS REEF.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The morning light showed several articles on the shore which had been
+washed up from the wreck. Some tins of biscuits were likely to be very
+useful, and a box of carpenter's tools, most of them sadly rusted, was
+welcomed eagerly; but nothing else was found, and the day might have
+begun with murmurs of discontent but for a discovery made by Mackay,
+which restored satisfaction to the men's faces.</p>
+
+<p>Close by his head in the log hut where he had spent the night, he found
+a sort of cupboard&mdash;something like a rabbit-hutch. And this cupboard
+contained&mdash;oh, joyful discovery!&mdash;not gold or gems, nor any such useless
+glittering lumber, but something far more precious to these weary
+mariners&mdash;two bottles of brandy and a chest of tea. Perhaps a former
+sojourner on the island had placed them in that hiding-place, thinking
+compassionately of the voyagers who might in some future day find
+themselves in bitter need upon the Rocas Reef. "Whoever it was as left
+'em here," said Pollard, "got off safe again, you may depend on it; and
+so shall we." Percival said nothing: he had been thinking that perhaps
+the former owner of this buried treasure had died upon the island. He
+hoped that they would not find his grave.</p>
+
+<p>He measured out some tea for the morning's meal, but decided that
+neither tea nor spirits should be used, except on special occasions or
+in cases of illness. The men accepted his decision as a reasonable one;
+they were all well-disposed and tractable on the whole. Percival was
+amazed to find them so easy to manage. But they were more depressed that
+morning at the thought of their lost comrades, their wrecked ship, and
+the prospect of passing an indefinite time upon the coral-reef, than
+they had been on the previous day. It was a relief when they were busy
+at their respective tasks; and Percival found an odd kind of pleasure in
+all sorts of hard and unusual work; in breaking up rotten planks, for
+instance; in extracting old nails painfully and laboriously from them
+for future use; and in tramping to and fro between the sea-shore and the
+log hut, carrying the driftwood deposited on the sand to a more
+convenient resting-place. They had planned to build another hut, as the
+existing structure was both small and frail; and Percival laboured at
+his work like a giant. In the hot time of the day, however, he was glad
+to do as the others did; to throw down his tools, such as they were, and
+creep into the shadow of the log hut. The heat was very great; and the
+men were beginning to suffer from the bites of venomous ants which
+infested the island. In short, as Percival said to himself, the Rocas
+Reef was about as little like Robinson Crusoe's island as it could
+possibly be. Life would be greatly ameliorated if goats and parrots
+could be found amongst the rocks; shell-fish and sea-fowl were a poor
+exchange for them; and an island that was "desert" in reality as well as
+in name, was a decidedly prosaic place on which to spend a few days, or
+weeks, or months. Of course he made none of these remarks in public; he
+contented himself with humming in an undertone the words of Alexander
+Selkirk, as interpreted by Cowper:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I am monarch of all I survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My right there is none to dispute&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>a quotation which brought a meaning smile to Mackay's face, whereupon
+Percival laughed and checked himself.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you to-day?" he said, addressing the steerage passenger with
+some show of good-humoured interest. Mackay was lying on the sand,
+propped up against the wall of the hut, and Percival was breaking his
+nails over an obstinate screw which was deeply embedded in a thick piece
+of wood.</p>
+
+<p>"Better, thanks." The voice was curiously hoarse and gruff.</p>
+
+<p>"Jackson isn't a bad surgeon, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucky for you that he was saved."</p>
+
+<p>"I owe my life twice to him and once to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you think it's something to be grateful for," said Percival,
+carelessly. "You've had some escapes to tell your friends about when you
+get home."</p>
+
+<p>Mackay turned aside his head. "I have no friends to tell," he said,
+shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! more's the pity. Well, no doubt you will make some in
+Pernambuco&mdash;when you get there."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think we ever shall get there?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival shot a rather displeased glance at him. "Don't go talking like
+that before the men," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not talking before the men," rejoined the steerage passenger, with
+a smile: "I am talking to you, Mr. Heron. And I repeat my question&mdash;Do
+you think we shall ever get to Pernambuco?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Percival, stoutly. "A ship will see our signal and call for
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a very small flag," said Mackay, in a significant tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens!" burst out Percival, with the first departure from his
+good-humoured tone that Mackay had heard from him: "why do you take the
+trouble to put that side of the question to me? Don't you think I see it
+for myself? There is a chance, if it is only a small one; and I'm not
+going to give up hope&mdash;yet."</p>
+
+<p>Then he walked away, as if he refused to discuss the subject any longer.
+Mackay looked at the sea and sighed; he was sorry that he had provoked
+Mr. Heron's wrath by his question. But he found afterwards that it
+contributed to form a kind of silent understanding between him and
+Percival. It was a sort of relief to both of them, occasionally to
+exchange short, sharp sentences of doubt or discouragement, which
+neither of them breathed in the ear of the others. Percival divined
+quickly enough, that the steerage passenger was not a man of Thomas
+Jackson's class. As the hoarseness left his voice, and the disfiguring
+redness disappeared from his face, Percival distinguished signs of
+refinement and culture which he wondered at himself for not perceiving
+earlier. But there was nothing remarkable in his having made a mistake
+about Mackay's station in life. The man had come on board the <i>Arizona</i>
+in a state of wretched suffering: his face had been scorched, his hair
+and beard singed, his clothes, as well as his person, blackened by dust
+and smoke. Then his clothes were those of a working-man, and his speech
+had been rendered harsh to the ear from the hoarseness of his voice. But
+he gradually regained his strength as he lay in the fresh air and the
+sunshine, and returning health gave back to him the quiet energy and
+cheerfulness to which Jackson had borne testimony. He was a great
+favourite with the men, who, in their rough way, made a sort of pet of
+him, and brought him offerings of the daintiest food that they could
+find. And his hands were not idle. He wove baskets and plaited hats of
+cocoa-nut fibre with his long white fingers, which were very unlike
+those of the working-man that he professed to be. Percival Heron was
+often struck by the appearance of that hand. It was one of unusual
+beauty&mdash;the sort of hand that Titian or Vandyke loved to draw: long,
+finely-shaped, full of quiet power, and fuller, perhaps, of a subtle
+sort of refinement, which seems to express itself in the form of
+tapering fingers with filbert nails and a well-turned wrist. It was not
+the hand of a working-man, not even of a skilled artizan, whose hand is
+often delicately sensitive: it was a gentleman's hand, and as such it
+piqued Percival's curiosity. But Mackay was of a reserved disposition,
+and did not offer any information about himself.</p>
+
+<p>One day when rain was falling in sheets and torrents, as it did
+sometimes upon the Rocas Reef, Percival turned into the log hut for
+shelter. Mackay was there, too; his leg had been so painful that he had
+not left the rude bed, which his comrades had made for him, even to be
+carried out into the fresh air and sunshine, for two or three days.
+Percival noticed the look of pain in the languid eyes, and had, for a
+moment, a fancy that he had seen this man before. But the burns on his
+face, the handkerchief tied round his head to conceal a wound on the
+temple, and the tangled brown beard and moustache, made it difficult to
+seize hold of a possible likeness.</p>
+
+<p>Percival threw himself on the ground with a half-sigh, and crossed his
+arms behind his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Is anything the matter?" asked Mackay.</p>
+
+<p>Percival noticed that he never addressed him as "Sir" or "Mr. Heron,"
+unless the other men were present.</p>
+
+<p>"Jackson's ill," said Percival, curtly.</p>
+
+<p>Mackay started and turned on his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fever, I'm afraid. Not bad; just a touch of it. He's in the other hut."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry for that," said Mackay, lying down again.</p>
+
+<p>"So am I. He is the steadiest man among them. How the rain pours!
+Pollard is sitting with him."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence, after which Percival spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you keeping count of the days? How long is it since we landed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sixteen days."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all? I thought it had been longer."</p>
+
+<p>"You were anxious to get to your journey's end, I suppose," said the
+steerage passenger, after a little hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't we all anxious? Do we want to stay here for ever?" And then
+there was another pause, which ended by Percival's saying, in a tone of
+subdued irritation: "There are few of our party that have the same
+reasons that I have for wishing myself on the way back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going to stay in South America, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I. There is someone I want to find; that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"A man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a man. I thought that he had sailed in the <i>Falcon</i>; but I suppose
+I was mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"And if you don't find him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must hunt the world over until I do. I won't go back to England
+without him, if he's alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Friend or enemy?" said Mackay, fixing his eyes on Percival's face with
+a look of interest. At any other time Percival might have resented the
+question: here, in the log hut, with a tempest roaring and the rain
+streaming outside, and the great stormy sea as a barrier between the
+dwellers on the island and the rest of the civilised world, such
+questions and answers seemed natural enough.</p>
+
+<p>"Enemy," said Percival, sharply. It was evident that some hidden sense
+of wrong had sprung suddenly to the light, and perhaps amazed him by its
+strength, for he began immediately to explain away his answer. "Hum! not
+that exactly. But not a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"And you want to do him an injury!" said Mackay, with grave
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," said Percival, angrily, as if replying to a suggestion
+that had been made a thousand times before, and flinging out his arm
+with a reckless, agitated gesture. "I want to do him a service&mdash;confound
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. Percival lay with his outstretched hand clenched
+and his eyes fixed gloomily on the opposite wall: Mackay turned away his
+head. Presently, however, he spoke in a low but distinct tone.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the service you propose doing me, Mr. Heron?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doing you? Good Heavens! You! What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that my face is a good deal disfigured at present," said the
+steerage passenger, passing his hand lightly over his thick, brown
+beard; "but when it is better, you will probably recognise me easily
+enough. But, perhaps, I am mistaken. I thought for a moment that you
+were in search of a man called Stretton, who was formerly a tutor to
+your step-brothers."</p>
+
+<p>Percival was standing erect by this time in the middle of the floor. His
+hands were thrust into his pockets: his deep chest heaved: the bronzed
+pallor of his face had turned to a dusky red. He did not answer the
+words spoken to him; but after a few seconds of silence, in which the
+eyes of the two men met and told each other a good deal, he strode to
+the doorway, pushed aside the plank which served for a door, and went
+out into the storm. He did not feel the rain beating upon his head: he
+did not hear the thunder, nor see the forked lightning that played
+without intermission in the darkened sky; he was conscious only of the
+intolerable fact that he was shut up in a narrow corner of the earth, in
+daily, almost hourly, companionship with the one man for whom he felt
+something not unlike fierce hatred. And in spite of his resolution to
+act generously for Elizabeth's sake, the hatred flamed up again when he
+found himself so suddenly thrust, as it were, into Brian Luttrell's
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>When he had walked for some time and got thoroughly wet through, it
+occurred to him that he was acting more like a child than a grown man;
+and he turned his face as impetuously towards the huts as he had lately
+turned his back upon them. He found plenty to do when the rain ceased.
+The fire had for the first time gone out, and the patience of Jackson
+could not now be taxed, because he was lying on his back in the stupor
+of fever. Percival set one of the men to work with two sticks; but the
+wood was nearly all damp, and it was a weary business, even when two dry
+morsels were found, to get them to light. However, it was better than
+having nothing to do. Want of employment was one of their chief trials.
+The men could not always be catching fish and snaring birds. They were
+thinking of building a small boat; but Jackson's illness deprived them
+of the help of one who had more practical knowledge of such matters than
+any of the others, and threw a damp over their spirits as well.</p>
+
+<p>Jackson's illness seemed to give Percival a pretext for absenting
+himself from the hut in which the so-called Mackay lay. He had, just at
+first, an invincible repugnance to meeting him again; he could not make
+up his mind how Brian Luttrell would expect to be treated, and he was
+almost morbidly sensitive about the mistake that he had made respecting
+"the steerage passenger." At night he stayed with Jackson, and sent the
+other men to sleep in Mackay's hut. But in the morning an absolute
+necessity arose for him to speak to his enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Jackson was sensible, though extremely weak, when the daylight came: and
+his first remark was an anxious one concerning the state of his
+comrade's broken leg. "Will you look after it a bit, sir?" he said,
+wistfully, to Heron.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do my best. Don't bother yourself," said Percival, cheerfully. And
+accordingly he presented himself at an early hour in the other
+sleeping-place, and addressed Brian in a very matter of fact tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Your leg must be seen to this morning. I shall make a poor substitute
+for Jackson, I'm afraid; but I think I shall do it better than Pollard
+or Fenwick."</p>
+
+<p>"I've no doubt of that," said the man with the brown beard and bright,
+quick eyes. "Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>And that was all that passed between them.</p>
+
+<p>It was wonderful to see the determined, unsparing way in which Percival
+worked that day. His energy never flagged. He was a little less
+good-tempered than usual; the upright black line in his forehead was
+very marked, and his utterances were not always amiable. But he
+succeeded in his object; he made himself so thoroughly tired that he
+slept as soon as his head touched his hard pillow, and did not wake
+until the sun was high in the heaven. The men showed a good deal of
+consideration for him. Fenwick watched by the sick man, and Pollard and
+Barry bestirred themselves to get ready the morning meal, and to attend
+to the wants of their two helpless companions.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until evening that Brian found an opportunity to say to
+Percival:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What did you want to find me for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you let the matter rest until we are off this &mdash;&mdash; island?" said
+Percival, losing control of that hidden fierceness for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>And Brian answered rather coldly:&mdash;"As you please."</p>
+
+<p>Percival waited awhile, and then said, more deliberately:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you before long. There is no hurry, you see"&mdash;with a sort of
+grim humour&mdash;"there is no post to catch, no homeward-bound mail steamer
+in the harbour. We cannot give each other the slip now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that I gave you the slip?" said Brian, to whom Percival's
+tone was charged with offence.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that Brian Luttrell would not have been allowed to leave England
+quite so easily as Mr. Stretton was. But I won't discuss it just now.
+You'll excuse my observing that I think I would drop the 'Mackay' if I
+were you. It will hurt nobody here if you are called Luttrell; and&mdash;I
+hate disguises."</p>
+
+<p>"The name Luttrell is as much a disguise as any other," said Brian,
+shortly. "But you may use it if you choose."</p>
+
+<p>He was hardly prepared, however, for the round eyes with which the lad
+Barry regarded him when he next entered the log hut, nor for the awkward
+way in which he gave a bashful smile and pulled the front lock of his
+hair when Brian spoke to him.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing that for?" he said, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, it's Mr. Heron's orders," said Barry.</p>
+
+<p>"What orders?"</p>
+
+<p>"That we're to remember you're a gentleman, sir. Gone steerage in a bit
+of a freak; but now you've told him you'd prefer to be called by your
+proper name. Mr. Luttrell, that is."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm no more a gentleman than you are," said Brian, abruptly. "Call me
+Mackay at once as you used to do."</p>
+
+<p>Barry shook his head with a knowing look. "Daren't sir. Mr. Heron is a
+gentleman that will have his own way. And he said you had a big estate
+in Scotland, sir; and lots of money."</p>
+
+<p>"What other tales did he tell you?" said Brian, throwing back his head
+restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know, sir. Only he told us that we'd better nurse you up
+as well as we could before we left the island, and that there was one at
+home as would give money to see you alive and well. A lady, I think he
+meant."</p>
+
+<p>"What insane folly!" muttered Brian to himself. "Look here, Barry," he
+added aloud, "Mr. Heron was making jokes at your expense and mine. He
+meant nothing of the kind; I haven't a penny in the world, and I'm on
+the way to the Brazils to earn my living as a working-man. Now do you
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Barry retired, silenced but unconvinced. And the next time that Brian
+saw Percival alone, he said to him drily:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather make my own romances about my future life, if it's all
+the same to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell these poor fellows that I have property in Scotland, please.
+It is not the case."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's what you're making a fuss about. But I can't help it," said
+Percival, shrugging his shoulders. "If you are Brian Luttrell, as Vasari
+swears you are&mdash;swearing it to his own detriment, too, which inclines me
+to believe that it is true&mdash;the Strathleckie estate is yours."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't prove that I am Brian Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"But I might prove&mdash;when we get back to Scotland&mdash;that you bore the name
+of Brian Luttrell for three or four-and-twenty years of your life."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going back to Scotland," said the young man, looking steadily
+and attentively at Percival's troubled countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are. I promised that you should come back, and you must not
+make me break my word."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom did you promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"I promised Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>And then the two men felt that the conversation had better cease.
+Percival walked rapidly away, while Brian, who could not walk anywhere,
+lay flat on his back and listened, with dreamy eyes, to the long
+monotonous rise and fall of the waves upon the shore.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Pollard's down with this fever," was the announcement which Percival
+made to Brian a few days later.</p>
+
+<p>"Badly?"</p>
+
+<p>"A smart touch. And Jackson doesn't mend as he ought to do. I can't
+understand why either of them should have it at all. The island may be
+barren, but it ought to be healthy."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could do anything beside lying here like a log."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can't," said Percival, by no means unkindly. "I never heard
+that it was any good to stand on a broken leg. I'll manage."</p>
+
+<p>Such interchange of semi-confidential sentences was now rare between
+them. Percival was, for the most part, very silent when circumstances
+threw him into personal contact with Brian; and there was something
+repellant about this silence&mdash;something which prevented Brian from
+trying to break it. Brian was feeling bitterly that he had done Percival
+some wrong: he knew that he might justly be blamed for returning to
+Scotland after his supposed death. He need not have practised any
+deception at all, but, having practised it, he ought to have maintained
+it. He had no right to let the estates pass to Elizabeth unless he meant
+her to keep them. Such, he imagined, might well be Percival's attitude
+of mind towards him.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was the question of his love for Elizabeth, of which both
+Elizabeth herself and Dino Vasari had made Heron aware. But in this
+there was nothing to be ashamed of. When he fell in love with Elizabeth,
+he thought her comparatively poor and friendless, and he did not know of
+her engagement to Percival. He never whispered to himself that he had
+won her heart: that fact, which Elizabeth fancied that she had made
+shamefully manifest, had not been grasped by Brian's consciousness at
+all. He would have thought himself a coxcomb to imagine that she cared
+for him more than as a friend. If he had ever dreamt of such a thing, he
+assured himself that he had made a foolish mistake.</p>
+
+<p>He thought that he understood what Percival wanted to say to him. Of
+course, since Dino had disclosed the truth, Elizabeth Murray desired to
+give up the property, and her lover had volunteered to come in search of
+the missing man. It was a generous act, and one that Brian thoroughly
+admired: it was worthy, he thought, of Elizabeth's lover. For he knew
+that he had always been especially obnoxious to Percival Heron in his
+capacity as tutor; and now, if he were to assume the character of a
+claimant to Elizabeth's estates, he would certainly not find the road to
+Percival's liking. For his own part, Brian respected and liked Percival
+Heron much more than he had found it possible to do during those flying
+visits to Italy, when he had systematically made himself disagreeable to
+the unknown Mr. Stretton. He admired the way in which Percival assumed
+the leadership of the party, and bore the burden of all their
+difficulties on his own broad shoulders: he admired his cheerfulness and
+untiring energy. He was sure that if Heron could succeed in carrying him
+off to England, and forcing him to make Elizabeth a poor woman instead
+of a rich one, he would be only too pleased to do so. But this was a
+thing which Brian did not mean to allow.</p>
+
+<p>Jackson's illness was a protracted one, and left him in a weak state,
+from which he had not recovered when Pollard died. Then the boy Barry
+fell ill&mdash;out of sheer fright, Percival declared; but his attack was a
+very slight one, prolonged from want of energy rather than real
+indisposition. Heron was the only nurse, for Fenwick's strength had to
+be utilised in procuring food for the party; and, as he was often up all
+night and busy all day long, it was no surprise to Brian when at last he
+staggered, rather than walked into the hut, and threw himself down on
+the ground, declaring himself so tired that he could not keep awake. And
+he had scarcely said the words when slumber overpowered him.</p>
+
+<p>Brian, who was beginning to move about a very little, crawled to the
+door and managed to attract Fenwick's attention. The man&mdash;a rough,
+black-bearded sailor&mdash;came up to him with a less surly look than usual.</p>
+
+<p>"How's Barry?" said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"Better. He's all right. They've both got round the corner now, though I
+think the master thought yesterday that Barry would follow Pollard. It
+was faint-heartedness as killed Pollard, and it's faint-heartedness
+that'll kill Barry, if he don't look out."</p>
+
+<p>"See here," said Brian, indicating the sleeper with his finger. "You
+don't think Mr. Heron has got the fever, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>Fenwick took a step forward and looked stolidly at Percival's face,
+which was very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Not he. Dead-beat, sir; that's all. He's done his work like a man, and
+earned a sleep. He'll be right when he wakes."</p>
+
+<p>Armed with this assurance, Brian resumed his occupation of weaving
+cocoa-nut fibre; but he grew uneasy, when, at the end of a couple of
+hours, Percival's face began to flush and his limbs to toss restlessly
+upon the ground. He muttered incoherent words from time to time, and at
+last awoke and asked for water. Brian's walking was a matter of
+difficulty; he took some minutes in crossing the room to bring a
+cocoa-nut, which had been made into a cup, to Percival's side; and by
+the time he had done it, Heron was wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth are you doing, bringing me water in this way? You ought
+to be lying down, and I ought to go to Barry. If I were not so sleepy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go to sleep," said Brian. "Barry's all right. I asked Fenwick just
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I've gone and caught it," said Percival, in a decidedly
+annoyed tone of voice. "A nice state of things if I were to be laid up!
+I won't be laid up either. It's to a great extent a matter of will; look
+at Barry&mdash;and Pollard." His voice sank a little at the latter name.</p>
+
+<p>"You're only tired: you will be all right presently."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think I'm going to have the fever, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Brian, wondering a little at his anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long pause: then Heron spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Luttrell." It was the first time that he had addressed Brian by his
+name. "If I have the fever and go off my head as the others have all
+done, will you remember&mdash;it's just a fancy of mine&mdash;that I&mdash;I don't
+exactly want you to hear what I say! Leave me in this hut, or move me
+into the other one, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do as you wish," said Brian, seriously, "but I needn't tell you
+that I should attach no importance to what you said. And I should be
+pleased to do anything that I was able to do for you, if you were ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Percival, "I may not be ill after all. But I thought I
+would mention it. And, Luttrell, supposing I were to follow Pollard's
+example&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What is the good of talking in that way when you are not even ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that. If you get off this island and I don't, I want you to
+promise me to go and see Elizabeth." Then, as Brian hesitated, "You must
+go. You must see her and talk to her; do you hear? Good Heavens! How can
+you hesitate? Do you mean to let her think for ever that I have betrayed
+her trust?"</p>
+
+<p>Decidedly the fever was already working in his veins. The flushed face,
+the unnaturally brilliant eyes, the excitement of his manner, all
+testified to its presence. Brian felt compelled to answer quietly,</p>
+
+<p>"I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Percival, lying down again and closing his eyes. "And
+now you can tell Fenwick that he's got another patient. It's the fever;
+I know the signs."</p>
+
+<p>And he was right. But the fever took a different course with him from
+that which it had taken with the others: he was never delirious at all,
+but lay in a death-like stupor from which it seemed that he might not
+awake. Once&mdash;some days after the beginning of his illness&mdash;he came to
+himself for a few minutes with unexpected suddenness. It was midnight,
+and there was no light in the hut beyond that which came from the
+brilliant radiance of the moon as it shone in at the open door. Percival
+opened his eyes and made a sound, to which Brian answered immediately by
+giving him something to drink.</p>
+
+<p>"You've broken your promise," said Percival, in a whisper, keeping his
+eyes fixed suspiciously on Brian's face.</p>
+
+<p>"No. You have never been delirious, so I never needed to leave you."</p>
+
+<p>"A quibble," murmured Heron, with the faintest possible smile.
+"However&mdash;I'm not sorry to have you here. You'll stay now, even if I
+talk nonsense?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will." Brian was glad of the request.</p>
+
+<p>In another moment the patient had relapsed into insensibility; but,
+curiously enough, after this, conversation, Percival's mind began to
+wander, and he "talked nonsense" as persistently as the others had done.
+Brian could not see why he had at first told him to keep away. He was
+quite prepared for some revelation of strong feeling against himself,
+but none ever came. Elizabeth's name occurred very frequently; but for
+the most, part, it was connected with reminiscences of the past of which
+Brian knew nothing. Early meetings, walks about London, boy and girl
+quarrels were talked of, but about recent events he was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Brian wondered whether he himself and Fenwick would also succumb to the
+malarious influences of the place; but these two escaped. Fenwick was
+never ill; and Brian grew stronger every day. When Percival opened his
+eyes once more upon him, after three weeks of illness, he said,
+abruptly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, if you had looked like that when you came on board the <i>Arizona</i>, I
+should never have been deceived."</p>
+
+<p>Brian smiled, and made no answer. Percival watched him hobbling about
+the room for some minutes, and then said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How long have we been on the island?"</p>
+
+<p>"Forty-seven days."</p>
+
+<p>"And not a sail in sight the whole time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two, but they did not come near enough to see our signals&mdash;or passed
+them by."</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" said Percival, faintly. "Will it never end?" And then he
+turned away his face.</p>
+
+<p>After a little silence he asked, uneasily:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Did I say much when I was ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of any consequence."</p>
+
+<p>"But about you," said Percival, turning his hollow eyes on Brian with
+painful earnestness, "did I talk about you? Did I say&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You never mentioned my name so far as I know. So make your mind easy on
+that score. Now, don't talk any more: you are not fit for it. You must
+eat, and drink, and sleep, so as to be ready when that dilatory ship
+comes to take us off."</p>
+
+<p>Percival did his duty in these respects. He was a more docile patient
+than Brian had expected to find him. But he did not seem to recover his
+buoyant spirits with his strength. He had long fits of melancholy
+brooding, in which the habitual line between his brows became more
+marked than ever. But it was not until two or three weeks more of their
+strangely monotonous existence had passed by, that Brian Luttrell got
+any clue to the kind of burden that was weighing upon Heron's mind.</p>
+
+<p>The day had been fiercely hot, but the night was cool, and Brian had
+half-closed the door through which the sea-breeze was blowing, and the
+light of the stars shone down. He and Percival continued to share this
+hut (the other being tenanted by the three seamen), and Brian was
+sitting on the ground, stirring up a compound of cocoa-nut milk, eggs
+and brandy, with which he meant to provide Percival for supper. Percival
+lay, as usual, on his couch, watching his movements by the starlight.
+When the draught had been swallowed, Heron said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go to sleep yet. I wish you would sit down here. I want to say
+something."</p>
+
+<p>Brian complied, and Percival went on in his usual abrupt fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I rather thought I should not get better."</p>
+
+<p>"I know."</p>
+
+<p>"It might have been more convenient if I had not. Did you never feel
+so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, never."</p>
+
+<p>"If I had been buried on the Rocas Reef," said Percival, with biting
+emphasis, "you would have kept your promise, gone back to England,
+and&mdash;married Elizabeth."</p>
+
+<p>"I never considered that possibility," answered Brian, with perfect
+quietness and some coldness.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're a better fellow than I am. Look here," said Percival, with
+vehemence, "in your place I could not have nursed a man through an
+illness as you have done. The temptation would have been too strong: I
+should have killed him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you would have done nothing of the kind, Heron. You are
+incapable of treachery."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't say so when you know all that I am going to tell you. Prepare
+your mind for deeds of villainy," said Percival, rallying his forces and
+trying to laugh; "for I am going to shock your virtuous ear. It's been
+on my mind ever since I was taken ill; and I was so afraid that I should
+let it out when I was light-headed, that, as you know, I asked you not
+to stay with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell me now: I'll take it on trust. Any time will do," said
+Brian, shrinking a little from the allusion to his own story that he
+knew would follow.</p>
+
+<p>"No time like the present," responded Heron, obstinately. "I've been a
+pig-headed brute; that's the chief thing. Now, don't interrupt,
+Luttrell. Miss Murray, you know, was engaged to me when you first saw
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I didn't know it!" said Brian, with vehemence almost equal to
+Percival's own.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you didn't. I understand all that. It was the most natural
+thing in the world for you to admire her."</p>
+
+<p>"Admire her!" repeated Brian, in an enigmatic tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Let the word stand for something stronger if you don't like it. Perhaps
+you do not know that your friend, Dino Vasari, the man who claimed to be
+Brian Luttrell, betrayed your secrets to me. It was he who told me your
+name, and your love for Miss Murray. She had mentioned that to me, too;
+or rather I made her tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dino confessed that he had been to you," said Brian, who was sitting
+with his hand arched over his eyes. "He had some wild idea of making a
+sort of compromise about the property, to which I was to be a party."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he tell you the terms of the compromise?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I won't&mdash;just now. I'll tell you what I did, Luttrell, and you may
+call me a cad for it, if you like: I refused to do anything towards
+bringing about this compromise, and, although I knew when you were to
+sail, I did not try to detain you! You should have heard the blowing-up
+I had afterwards from old Colquhoun for not dropping a word to him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad you did not. He could not have hindered me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he could. Or I could. Some of us would have hindered you, you may
+depend on it. And, if I had said that word, don't you see, you would
+never have set foot in the <i>Falcon</i> nor I in the <i>Arizona</i>, and we
+should both have been safe at home, instead of disporting ourselves,
+like Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, on a desert island."</p>
+
+<p>"It's too late to think of that now," said Brian, rather sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Too late! that's the worst of it. You've the right to reproach me. Of
+course, I know I was to blame."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't see that. I don't reproach you in the least. You knew so
+little, that it must have seemed unnecessary to make a fuss about what
+you had heard."</p>
+
+<p>"I heard quite enough," said Percival, with a short laugh. "I knew what
+I ought to do&mdash;and I didn't do it. That's the long and the short of it.
+If I had spoken, you would not be here. That makes the sting of it to me
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think of that. I don't mind. You made up for all by coming after
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said Percival, emphatically, "that if a word could have
+killed you when I first knew who you were, you wouldn't have had much
+chance of life, Luttrell. I was worse than that afterwards. If ever I
+had the temptation to take a man's life&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep all that to yourself," said Brian, in a quick, resolute tone.
+"There is no use in telling it to me. You conquered the temptation, if
+there was one; that I know; and if there was anything else, forget it,
+as I shall forget what you have told me. I have something to ask your
+pardon for, besides."</p>
+
+<p>Percival's chest heaved; the emotion of the moment found vent in one
+audible sob. He stretched out his hand, which Brian clasped in silence.
+For a few minutes neither of them spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"It was chiefly to prove to myself that I was not such a black sheep as
+some persons declared me to be, that I made up my mind to follow you and
+bring you back," said Percival, with his old liveliness of tone. "You
+see I had been more selfish than anybody knew. Shall I tell you how?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you like."</p>
+
+<p>"You say you don't know what Dino Vasari suggested. That subtle young
+man made a very bold proposition. He said he would give up his claim to
+the property if I would relinquish my claim to Miss Murray's hand. The
+property and the hand thus set at liberty were both to be bestowed upon
+you, Mr. Brian Luttrell. Dino Vasari was then to retire to his
+monastery, and I to mine&mdash;that is, to my bachelor's diggings and my
+club&mdash;after annihilating time and space 'to make two lovers happy.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't jest on that subject," said Brian in a low, pained tone. "What a
+wild idea! Poor Dino!"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor me, I think, since I was to be in every sense the loser. I am
+sorry to say I didn't treat your friend with civility, Luttrell. After
+your departure, however, he went himself to Netherglen, and there, it
+seems, he put the finishing stroke to any claim that he might have on
+the property." And then Percival proceeded to relate, as far as he knew
+it, the story of Dino's visit to Mrs. Luttrell, its effect on Mrs.
+Luttrell's health, and the urgent necessity that there was for Brian to
+return and arrange matters with Elizabeth. Brian tried to evade the last
+point, but Percival insisted on it so strongly that he was obliged to
+give him a decisive answer.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, at last. "I'm sorry to make it seem as if your voyage had
+been in vain; but, if we ever get off the Rocas Reef, I shall go on to
+the Brazils. There is not the least reason for me to go home. I could
+not possibly touch a penny of the Luttrells' money after what has
+happened. Miss Murray must keep it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, you see, there will be legal forms to go through, even if she does
+keep it, for which your presence will be required."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean that, Heron; you know I can do all that in writing."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't get Miss Murray to touch a farthing of it either."</p>
+
+<p>"You must persuade her," said Brian, calmly. "I think you will
+understand my feeling, when I say that I would rather she had it&mdash;she
+and you&mdash;than anybody in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"You must come back. I promised to bring you back," returned Percival,
+with some agitation of manner. "I said that I would not go back without
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"I will write to Mr. Colquhoun and explain."</p>
+
+<p>"Confound it! What Colquhoun thinks does not signify. It is Elizabeth
+whom I promised."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Brian slowly, and with some difficulty, "I think I can
+explain it to her, too, if you will let me write to her."</p>
+
+<p>Percival suppressed a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I go back?" asked Luttrell. "I see no reason."</p>
+
+<p>"And I wish you did not drive me to tell you the reason," said Percival,
+in crabbed, reluctant tones. "But it must come, sooner or later. If you
+won't go for any other reason, will you go when I tell you that
+Elizabeth Murray cares for you as she never cared for me, and never will
+care for any other man in the world? That was why I came to fetch you
+back; and, if you don't find it a reason for going back and marrying
+her, why&mdash;you deserve to stop on the Rocas Reef for the remainder of
+your natural life!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+
+<h3>KITTY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Winter had come to our cold northern isles. The snow lay thick upon the
+ground, but a sharp frost had made it hard and crisp. It sparkled in a
+flood of brilliant sunshine; the air was fresh and exhilarating, the sky
+transparently blue. It was a pleasant day for walking, and one that Miss
+Kitty Heron seemed thoroughly to enjoy, as she trod the white carpet
+with which nature had provided the world.</p>
+
+<p>She carried a little basket on her arm: a basket filled with good things
+for some children in a cottage not far from Strathleckie. The good
+things were of Elizabeth's providing; but Kitty acted as her almoner.
+Kitty was a very charming almoner, with her slight, graceful little
+figure and <i>mignonne</i> face set off by a great deal of brown fur and a
+dress of deep Indian red. The sharpness in the air brought a faint
+colour to her cheeks&mdash;Kitty was generally rather pale&mdash;and a new
+brightness to her pretty eyes. There was something delightfully
+bewitching about her: something provoking and coquettish: something of
+which Hugo Luttrell was pleasantly conscious as he came down the road to
+meet her and then walked for a little way at her side.</p>
+
+<p>They did not say very much. There were a few ardent speeches from him, a
+vehement sort of love-making, which Kitty parried with a good deal of
+laughing adroitness, some saucy speeches from her which all the world
+might have heard, and then the cottage was reached.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go in with you," said Hugo.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. You would frighten the children."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I so very terrible? Not to you; don't say that I frighten you."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not," said Kitty, with a little toss sideways of her
+dainty head. "I am frightened of nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not. I should think that you were the bravest of women,
+as you are the most charming."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please! I am not accustomed to these compliments. I must take my
+cakes to the children. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," said Hugo, taking her hand, and keeping it in his own while
+he spoke. "I may wait for you here and go back with you to Strathleckie,
+may I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, no," said Kitty. "You'll catch cold."</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked down at her imprisoned hand, and up into his face,
+sweetly smiling all the time, and, if they had not been within sight of
+the cottage windows, Hugo would have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her there and then.</p>
+
+<p>"I never catch cold. I shall walk about here till you come back. You
+don't dislike my company, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>It was said vehemently, with a sudden kindling of his dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," answered Kitty, feeling rather frightened, in spite of her
+previous professions of courage, though she did not quite know why. "I
+shall be very pleased. I must go now." And then she vanished hastily
+into the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo waited for some time, little guessing the fact that she was
+protracting her visit as much as possible, and furtively peeping through
+the blinds now and then in order to see if he were gone. Kitty had had
+some experience of his present mood, and was not certain that she liked
+it. But his patience was greater than hers. She was forced to come out
+at last, and before she had gone two steps he was at her side.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were never going to leave that wretched hole," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call it a wretched hole. It is very clean and nice. I often think
+that I should like to live in a cottage like that."</p>
+
+<p>"With someone who loved you," said Hugo, coming nearer, and gazing into
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty made a little <i>moue</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"The cottage would only hold one person comfortably," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you shall not live in a cottage. You shall live in a far
+pleasanter place. What should you say to a little villa on the shores of
+the Mediterranean, with orange groves behind it, and the beautiful blue
+sea before? Should you like that, Kitty? You have only to say the word,
+and you know that it will be yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I won't say the word," said Kitty, turning away her head. "I like
+Scotland better than the Mediterranean."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let it be Scotland. What should you say to Netherglen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer Strathleckie," replied the girl, with her most provoking
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"That is no answer. You must give me an answer some day," said Hugo,
+whose voice was beginning to tremble. "You know what I mean: you
+know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a lovely bit of bramble in the hedge!" cried Kitty, making
+believe that she had not been listening. "Look, it has still a leaf or
+two, and the stem is frosted all over and the veins traced in silver! Do
+get it for me: I must take it home."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo did her bidding rather unwillingly; but his sombre eyes were
+lighted with a reluctant smile, or a sort of glow that did duty for a
+smile, as she thanked him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is beautiful: it is like a piece of fairies' embroidery; far more
+beautiful than jewels would be. Oh, I wonder how people can make such a
+fuss about jewels, when they are so much less beautiful than these
+simple, natural things."</p>
+
+<p>"These will soon melt away; jewels won't melt," said Hugo. "I should
+like to see you with jewels on your neck and arms&mdash;you ought to be
+covered with diamonds."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not complimentary," laughed Kitty, "it sounds as if you thought
+they would make me better-looking. Now, you should compliment a person
+on what she is, and not on what she might be."</p>
+
+<p>"I have got beyond the complimentary stage," said Hugo. "What is the use
+of telling you that you are the most beautiful girl I ever met, or the
+most charming, or anything of that kind? The only thing I know"&mdash;and he
+lowered his voice almost to a whisper, and spoke with a fierce intensity
+that made Kitty shrink away from him&mdash;"the only thing I know is that you
+are the one woman in the world for me, and that I would sooner see you
+dead at my feet than married to another man!"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty had turned pale: how was she to reply? She cast her eyes up and
+down the road in search of some suggestion. Oh, joy and relief! she saw
+a figure in the distance. Perhaps it was somebody from Strathleckie;
+they were not far from the lodge now. She spoke with renewed courage,
+but she did not know exactly what she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this coming down the road? He is going up to Strathleckie, I
+believe; he seems to be pausing at the gates. Oh, I hope it is a
+visitor. I do like having the house full; and we have been so melancholy
+since Percival went on that horrid expedition to Brazil. Who can it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter?" said Hugo. "Can you not listen to me for one
+moment? Kitty&mdash;darling&mdash;wait!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't; I really can't!" said Kitty, quickening her pace
+almost to a run. "Oh, Hugo&mdash;Mr. Luttrell&mdash;you must not say such
+things&mdash;besides&mdash;look, it's Mr. Vivian; it really is! I haven't seen him
+for two years."</p>
+
+<p>And she actually ran away from him, coming face to face with her old
+friend, at the Strathleckie gates.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo followed sullenly. He did not like to be repulsed in that way. And
+he had reasons for wishing to gain Kitty's consent to a speedy marriage.
+He wanted to leave the country before the return of Percival Heron,
+whose errand to South America he guessed pretty accurately, although Mr.
+Colquhoun had thought fit to leave him in the dark about it. Hugo
+surmised, moreover, that Dino had told Brian Luttrell the history of
+Hugo's conduct to him in London: if so, Brian Luttrell was the last man
+whom Hugo desired to meet. And if Brian returned to England with
+Percival, the story would probably become known to the Herons; and then
+how could he hope to marry Kitty? With Brian's return, too, some
+alteration in Mrs. Luttrell's will might possibly be expected. The old
+lady's health had lately shown signs of improvement: if she were to
+recover sufficiently to indicate her wishes to her son, Hugo might find
+himself deprived of all chance of Netherglen. For these reasons he was
+disposed to press for a speedy conclusion to the matter.</p>
+
+<p>He came up to the gates, and found Kitty engaged in an animated
+conversation with Mr. Vivian; her cheeks were carnation, and her eyes
+brilliant. She was laughing with rather forced vivacity as he
+approached. In his opinion she had seldom appeared to more advantage;
+while to Rupert's eyes she seemed to have altered for the worse.
+Dangerously, insidiously pretty, she was, indeed; but a vain little
+thing, no doubt; a finished coquette by the way she talked and lifted
+her eyes to Hugo's handsome face; possibly even a trifle fast and
+vulgar. Not the simple child of sixteen whom he had last seen in
+Gower-street.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you come in, Hugo? I am sure everybody would be pleased to see
+you," said poor Kitty, unconscious of being judged, as she tried to
+propitiate Hugo by a pleading look. She did not like him to go away with
+such a cross look upon his face&mdash;that was all. But as she did not say
+that she would be pleased to see him, Hugo only sulked the more.</p>
+
+<p>"How cross he looks! I am rather glad he is not coming in," said Kitty,
+confidentially, as Hugo walked away, and she escorted Rupert up the long
+and winding drive. "And where did you come from? I did not know that you
+were near us."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been staying at Lord Cecil's, thirty miles from Dunmuir. I
+thought that I should like to call, as you were still in this
+neighbourhood. I wrote to Mrs. Heron about it. I hope she received my
+note?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see you don't know the family news," said Kitty, with a beaming
+smile. "I have a new stepsister, just three weeks old, and Isabel is
+already far too much occupied with the higher education of women to
+attend to such trifles as notes. She generally hands them over to
+Elizabeth or papa. Then, you know, papa broke one of his ribs and his
+collar-bone a fortnight ago, and I expect that this accident will keep
+us at Strathleckie for another month or two."</p>
+
+<p>"That accounts for you being here so late in the year."</p>
+
+<p>"Or so early! This is January, not December. But I think we may stay
+until the spring. It is not worth while to take a London house now."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty spoke so dolefully that Rupert was obliged to smile. "You are
+sorry for that?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We are all rather dull; we want something to enliven us. I hope
+you will enliven us, Mr. Vivian."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I can hardly hope to do so," said Rupert, coldly. "Of
+course, you have not the occupation that you used to have when you were
+in London."</p>
+
+<p>"When I went to school! No, I should think not," said Kitty, with her
+giddiest laugh. "I have locked up my lesson books and thrown away the
+key. So you must not lecture me on my studies as you used to do, Mr.
+Vivian."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not presume to do so," he said, with rather unnecessary
+stiffness.</p>
+
+<p>"But you used to do it! Have you forgotten?" asked Kitty, peeping up at
+him archly from under her long, curling eyelashes. There was a momentary
+smile upon his lips, but it disappeared as he answered quietly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What was allowable when you were a child, would justly be resented by
+you now, Miss Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not resent it; indeed I should not mind," said Kitty, eagerly.
+"I should like it: I always like being lectured, and told what I ought
+to do. I should be glad if you would scold me again about my reading; I
+have nobody to tell me anything now."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not possibly take the responsibility," said Rupert. "If you
+have thrown away the key of your book-box, Miss Heron, I don't think
+that you will be anxious to find it again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but the lock could be picked!" cried Kitty, and then repented her
+words, for Rupert's impassive face showed no interest beyond that
+required by politeness. The tears were very near her eyes, but she got
+rid of them somehow, and plunged into a neat and frosty style of
+conversation which she heartily detested. "This is Strathleckie; you
+have never seen it before, I think? It is on the Leckie property, but it
+is not an old place like Netherglen. I think it was built in 1840."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a very good style of architecture," said Rupert, scanning it with
+an attentive eye.</p>
+
+<p>"A good style of architecture, indeed!" commented Kitty to herself, as
+she ran away to her own room, after committing Mr. Vivian to the care of
+her step-mother, who was lying on a sofa in the drawing-room, quite
+ready to unfold her views about the higher education of girls. "What a
+piece of ice he is! He used not to be so frigid. I wonder if we offended
+him in any way before we left London. He has never been nice since then.
+Nice? He is simply hateful!" and Kitty stamped on the floor of her
+bed-room with alarming vehemence, but the crystal drops that had been so
+long repressed were trembling on her eyelashes, and giving to her face
+the grieved look of a child.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Vivian was thinking:&mdash;"What a pity she is so spoilt! A
+coquettish, hare-brained flirt: that is all that she is now, and she
+promised to be a sweet little woman two years ago! What business had she
+to be out walking with Hugo Luttrell? I should have heard of it if they
+were going to be married. I suppose she has had nobody to look after
+her. And yet Miss Murray always struck me as a sensible, staid kind of
+girl. Why can she not keep her cousin in order?" And then Rupert was
+conscious of a certain sense of impatience for Kitty's return, much as
+he disapproved of her alluring ways.</p>
+
+<p>He was prevailed on to stay the night, and his visit was prolonged day
+after day, until it was accepted as a settled thing that he would remain
+for some time&mdash;perhaps even until Percival came home. It had been
+calculated that Percival might easily be home in February.</p>
+
+<p>He could not easily maintain the coldness and reserve with which he had
+begun to treat Kitty Heron. There was something so winning and so
+childlike about her at times, that he dropped unconsciously into the old
+familiar tone. Then he would try to draw back, and would succeed,
+perhaps, in saying something positively rude or unkind, which would
+bring the tears to her eyes, and the flush of vexation to her face. At
+least, if it was not really unkind it sounded so to Kitty, and that came
+to the same thing. And when she was vexed, he was illogical enough to
+feel uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>But Kitty's crowning offence was her behaviour at a dinner-party, on the
+occasion of the christening of Mrs. Heron's little girl. Hugo Luttrell
+and the two young Grants from Dunmuir were amongst the guests; and with
+them Kitty amused herself. She did not mean any harm, poor child; she
+chattered gaily and looked up into their faces, with a gleeful
+consciousness that Rupert was watching her, and that she could show him
+now that some people admired her if he did not. Archie Grant certainly
+admired her prodigiously; he haunted her steps all through the evening,
+hung over the piano when she sang a gay little French <i>chanson</i>; turned
+over a portfolio of Mr. Heron's sketches with her in a corner. On the
+other hand, Hugo, who took her in to dinner, whispered things to her
+that made her start and blush. Vivian would have liked very much to know
+what he said. He did not approve of that darkly handsome face, with the
+haggard, evil-looking eyes, being thrust so close to Kitty's soft cheeks
+and pretty flower-decked head. He was glad to think that he had
+prevailed on Angela to leave Netherglen. He was not fond of Hugo
+Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>He was stiffer and graver than usual that evening; not even the
+appearance of the newly-christened Dorothy Elizabeth, in a very long
+white robe, won a smile from him. He never approached Kitty&mdash;never said
+a word to her&mdash;until he was obliged to say good-night. And then she
+looked up to him with her dancing eyes and pretty smile, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You never came near me all the evening, and you had promised to sing a
+duet with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Is the little coquette trying her wiles on me!" thought Rupert,
+sternly; but aloud he answered, with grave indifference,</p>
+
+<p>"You were better employed. You had your own friends."</p>
+
+<p>"And are you not a friend?" cried Kitty, biting her lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not your contemporary. I cannot enter into competition with these
+younger men," he answered, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty quitted him in a rage. Elizabeth encountered her as she ran
+upstairs, her cheeks crimson, her lips quivering, her eyes filled with
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Kitty, what is the matter?" she said, laying a gently detaining
+hand on the girl's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;nothing at all," declared Kitty; but she suffered herself to
+be drawn into Elizabeth's room, and there, sinking into a low seat by
+the fire, she detailed her wrongs. "He hates me; I know he does, and I
+hate him! He thinks me a horrid, frivolous girl; and so I am! But he
+needn't tell me that he does not want to be a friend of mine!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps, you are rather too old to take him for a friend in the
+way you used to do," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "You were a child
+then; and you are eighteen now, you know, Kitty. He treats you as a
+woman: that is all. It is a compliment."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I don't like his compliments: I hate them!" Kitty asseverated. "I
+would rather he let me alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think about him, dear. If he does not want to be friendly with
+you, don't try to be friendly with him."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," said Kitty, in the tone of one who has taken a solemn
+resolution. Then she rose, and surveyed herself critically in
+Elizabeth's long mirror. "I am sure I looked very nice," she said. "This
+pink dress suits me to perfection and the lace is lovely. And then the
+silver ornaments! I'm glad I did not wear anything that he gave me, at
+any rate. I nearly put on the necklace he sent me when I was seventeen;
+I'm glad I did not."</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest Kitty, why should you mind what he thinks?" said Elizabeth,
+coming to her side, and looking at the exquisitely-pretty little figure
+reflected in the glass, a figure to which her own, draped in black lace,
+formed a striking contrast. But she was almost sorry that she had said
+the words, for Kitty immediately threw herself on her cousin's shoulder
+and burst into tears. The fit of crying did not last long, and Kitty was
+unfeignedly ashamed of it: she dried her tears with a very
+useless-looking lace handkerchief, laughed at herself hysterically, and
+then ran away to her own room, leaving Elizabeth to wish that the sense
+and spirit that really existed underneath that butterfly-like exterior
+would show itself on the surface a little more distinctly.</p>
+
+<p>But the last thing she dreamed of was that Kitty, with all her little
+follies, would outrage Rupert's sense of the proprieties in the way she
+did in the course of the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert was standing alone in the drawing-room, looking out of a window
+which commanded an extensive view. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Heron had come
+downstairs. Kitty had breakfasted in her own room; Elizabeth was busy.
+Mr. Vivian was wondering whether it might not be as well to go back to
+London. It vexed him to see little Kitty Heron flirting with
+half-a-dozen men at once.</p>
+
+<p>A voice at the door caused him to turn round. Kitty was entering, and as
+her hands were full, she had some difficulty in turning the handle.
+Rupert moved forward to assist her, and uttered a courteous
+good-morning, but Kitty only looked at him with flushed cheeks and
+wide-open resentful eyes, and made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>She was wearing an embroidered apron over her dark morning frock, and
+this apron, gathered up by the corners in her hands, was full of various
+articles which Rupert could not see. He was thoroughly taken aback,
+therefore, when she poured its contents in an indiscriminate heap upon
+the sofa, and said, in a decided tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There are all the things you ever gave me; and I would rather not keep
+them any longer. I take presents only from my friends."</p>
+
+<p>Foolish Kitty!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2>
+
+<h3>KITTY'S FRIENDS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"How have I had the misfortune to offend you?" said Rupert, in a voice
+from which he could not banish irony as completely as he would have
+liked to do.</p>
+
+<p>"You said so yourself," replied Kitty, facing him with the dignity of a
+small princess. "You said that you were not my friend now."</p>
+
+<p>"When did I make that statement?" said Rupert, lifting his eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>"Last night. And I knew it. You are not kind as you used to be. It does
+not matter to me at all; only I felt that I did not like to keep these
+things&mdash;and I brought them back."</p>
+
+<p>"And what am I to do with them?" said Rupert, approaching the sofa and
+looking at the untidy little heap. He gave a subdued laugh, which
+offended Kitty dreadfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see anything to laugh at," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither do I." But the smile still trembled on his finely-cut mouth.
+"What did you mean me to do with these things?" he asked. "These are
+trifles: why don't you throw them into the fire if you don't value
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not all trifles; and I did value them before you came to see
+us this time," said Kitty, with a lugubriousness which ought to have
+convinced him of her sincerity. "There are some bangles, and a cup and
+saucer, and two books; and there is the chain that you sent me by Mr.
+Luttrell in the autumn."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that chain," said Vivian, and then he took it up and weighed it
+lightly in his hand. "I have never seen you wear it. I thought at first
+that you had got it on last night: but my eyes deceived me. My sight is
+not so good as it used to be. Really, Miss Heron, you make me ashamed of
+my trumpery gifts: pray take them away, and let me give you something
+prettier on your next birthday for old acquaintance sake."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed!" said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not? Because I don't treat you precisely as I did when you were
+twelve? You really would not like it if I did. No, I shall be seriously
+offended if you do not take these things away and say no more about
+them. It would be perfectly impossible for me to take them back; and I
+think you will see&mdash;afterwards&mdash;that you should not have asked me to do
+so."</p>
+
+<p>The accents of that calmly inflexible voice were terrible to Kitty. He
+turned to the window and looked out, but, becoming impatient of the
+silence, walked back to her again, and saw that her face had grown
+white, and was quivering as if she had received a blow. Her eyes were
+fixed upon the sofa, and her fingers held the chain which he had quietly
+placed within them; but it was evident that she was doing battle with
+herself to prevent the tears from falling. Rupert felt some remorse: and
+then hardened himself by a remembrance of the glances that had been
+exchanged between her and Hugo in that very room the night before.</p>
+
+<p>"I am old enough to be your father, you know," he began, gravely. This
+statement was not quite true, but it was true enough for conversational
+purposes. "I have sent you presents on your birthday since you were a
+very little girl, and I hope I may always do so. There is no need for
+you to reject them, because I think it well to remember that you are not
+a child any longer, but a young lady who has 'come out,' and wears long
+frocks, and does her hair very elaborately," he said, casting a smiling
+glance at Kitty's carefully-frizzled head. "I certainly do not wish to
+cease to be friends with&mdash;all of you; and I hope you will not drive me
+away from a house where I have been accustomed to forget the cares of
+the world a little, and find pleasant companionship and relaxation."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Vivian!" said Kitty, in a loud whisper. The suggestion that she
+had power to drive him away seemed almost impious. She felt completely
+crushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think any more about it," said Rupert, kindly, if
+condescendingly. "I never wished to be less of a friend to you than I
+was when you lived in Gower-street; but you must remember that you are a
+great deal altered from the little girl that I used to know."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty could not speak; she stooped and began to gather the presents
+again into her apron. Vivian came and helped her. He could not forbear
+giving her hand a little kindly pat when he had finished, as if he had
+been dealing with a child. But the playful caress, if such it might be
+called, had no effect on Kitty's sore and angry feelings. She was
+terribly ashamed of herself now: she could hardly bear to remember his
+calmly superior tone, his words of advice, which seemed to place her on
+a so much lower footing than himself.</p>
+
+<p>But in a day or two this feeling wore off. He was so kindly and friendly
+in manner, that she was emboldened to laugh at the recollection of the
+tone in which he had alluded to her elaborately-dressed hair and long
+dresses, and to devise a way of surprising him. She came down one day to
+afternoon tea in an old school-girlish dress of blue serge, rather short
+about the ankles, a red and white pinafore, and a crimson sash. Her hair
+was loose about her neck, and had been combed over her forehead in the
+fashion in which she wore it in her childish days. Thus attired, she
+looked about fourteen years old, and the shy way in which she glanced at
+the company from under her eyelashes, added to the impression of extreme
+youth. To carry out the character, she held a battledore and shuttlecock
+in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, are you rehearsing for a fancy ball?" said Mrs. Heron.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Isabel. I only thought I would try to transform myself into a
+little girl again, and see what it felt like. Do I look very young
+indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You look about twelve. You absurd child!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is the battledore for effect, or are you going to play a game with it?"
+asked Rupert, who had been surveying her with cold criticism in his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"For effect, of course. Don't you think it is a very successful
+attempt?" she said, looking up at him saucily.</p>
+
+<p>He made no answer. Elizabeth wanted the tea-kettle at that moment, and
+he moved to fetch it. Hugo Luttrell, however, who was paying a call at
+the house, was ready enough with a reply.</p>
+
+<p>"It could not be more successful," he said, looking at her admiringly.
+"I suppose"&mdash;in a lowered tone&mdash;"that you looked like this in the
+school-room. I am glad those days are over, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not," said Kitty, helping herself to bread and butter. "I should
+like them all over again&mdash;lessons and all." She stole a glance at
+Rupert, but his still face betrayed no consciousness of her remark. "I
+am going to keep up my character. I am going to play at battledore and
+shuttlecock with the boys in the dining-room. Who will come, too? <i>Qui
+m'aime me suit.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will be the first to follow," said Hugo, in her ear.</p>
+
+<p>She pouted and drank her tea, glancing half-reluctantly toward Rupert.
+But he would not heed.</p>
+
+<p>"I will come, too," said Elizabeth, relieving the awkwardness of a
+rather long pause. "I always like to see you play. Kitty is as light as
+a bird," she added to Mr. Vivian, who bowed and looked profoundly
+uninterested.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, in a few minutes he found the drawing-room so dull without
+the young people, that he, too, descended to see what was going on. He
+heard the sound of counting in breathless voices as he drew near the
+drawing-room. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, three hundred. One, two,
+three&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty and Mr. Luttrell have kept up to three hundred and three, Mr.
+Vivian!" cried one of the boys as he entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Vivian joined the spectators. It was a pretty sight. Kitty, with her
+floating locks, flushed face, trim, light figure, and unerring accuracy
+of eye, was well measured against Hugo's lithe grace and dexterity. The
+two went on until eight hundred and twenty had been reached; then the
+shuttlecock fell to the ground. Kitty had glanced aside and missed her
+aim.</p>
+
+<p>"You must try, now, Mr. Vivian," she said, advancing towards him,
+battledore in hand, and smiling triumphantly in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," said Rupert, who had been shading his eyes with one
+hand, as if the light of the lamps had tried them: "I could not see."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you not? Oh, you are short-sighted, perhaps. Ah! there go Hugo
+and Johnny. This is better than being grown-up, I think. Am I like the
+little girl that you used to know in Gower-street now, Mr. Vivian?"</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps her naming Hugo so familiarly that caused Rupert to
+reply, with a smile that was more cutting than reproof would have
+been:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer the little girl in Gower-street still."</p>
+
+<p>From the colour that instantly overspread her face and neck, he saw that
+she was hurt or offended&mdash;he did not know which. She left his side
+immediately, and plunged into the game with renewed ardour. She played
+until Hugo left the house about seven o'clock; and then she rushed up to
+her room and bolted herself in with unnecessary violence. She came down
+to dinner in a costume as different as possible from the one which she
+had worn in the afternoon. Her dress was of some shining white stuff,
+very long, very much trimmed, cut very low at the neck; her hair was
+once more touzled, curled and pinned, in its most elaborate fashion; and
+her gold necklet and bracelets were only fit for a dinner-party. It is
+to be feared that Rupert Vivian did not admire her taste in dress. If
+she had worn white cotton it would had pleased him better.</p>
+
+<p>There was a wall between them once more. She was more conscious of it
+than he was, but he did not perceive that something was wrong. He saw
+that she would not look at him, would not speak to him; he supposed that
+he had offended her. He himself was aware of an increasing feeling of
+dissatisfaction&mdash;whether with her, or with her circumstances, he could
+not define&mdash;and this feeling found expression in a sentence which he
+addressed to her two days after the game of battledore and shuttlecock.
+Hugo had been to the house again, and had been even less guarded than
+usual in his love-making. Kitty meant to put a stop to it sooner or
+later; but she did not quite know how to do it (not having had much
+experience in these matters, in spite of the coquettishness which Rupert
+attributed to her), and also she did not want to do it just at present,
+because of her instinctive knowledge of the fact that it annoyed Mr.
+Vivian. She was too much of a child to know that she was playing with
+edged tools.</p>
+
+<p>So she allowed Hugo a very long hand-clasp when he said good-bye, and
+held a whispered consultation with him at the door in a confidential
+manner, which put Rupert very much out of temper. Then she came back to
+the drawing-room fire, laughing a little, with an air of pretty triumph.
+Rupert was leaning against the mantelpiece; no one else was in the room.
+Kitty knelt down on the rug, and warmed her hands at the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"We have such a delightful secret, Hugo and I," she said, brightly. "You
+would never guess what it was. Shall I tell it to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"No?" She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment, and then shrugged her
+shoulders. "You are not very polite to me, Mr. Vivian!" she said,
+half-playfully, half-pettishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wish to share any secret that you and Mr. Hugo Luttrell may
+have between you," said Rupert, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty's face changed a little. "Don't you like him?" she said, in a
+rather timid voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Before I answer I should like to know whether you are engaged to marry
+him," said Mr. Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. I never dreamt of such a thing. You ought not to ask
+such a question," said Kitty, turning scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I ought not. I beg your pardon. But I thought it was the
+case."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you think so?" said Kitty, turning her face away from him.
+"You would have heard about it, you know&mdash;and besides&mdash;nobody ever
+thought of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me: Mr. Luttrell seems to have thought of it," said Rupert, with
+rather an angry laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"What Mr. Luttrell thinks of is no business of yours," said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot deny it then!" exclaimed Vivian, with a mixture of
+bitterness and sarcastic triumph in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer. He could not see her face, but the way in which she
+was twisting her fingers together spoke of some agitation. He tried to
+master himself; but he was under the empire of an emotion of which he
+himself had not exactly grasped the meaning nor estimated the power. He
+walked to the window and back again somewhat uncertainly; then paused at
+about two yards' distance from her kneeling figure, and addressed her in
+a voice which he kept carefully free from any trace of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no right to speak, I know," he said, "and, if I were not so much
+older than yourself, or if I had not promised to be your friend, Kitty,
+I would keep silence. I want you to be on your guard with that man. He
+is not the sort of man that you ought to encourage, or whom you would
+find any happiness in loving."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it was not considered generous for one man to blacken
+another's character behind his back," said Kitty, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are right, it is not. If I had put myself into rivalry with
+Hugo Luttrell, of course, I should have to hold my tongue. But as I am
+only an outsider&mdash;an old friend who takes a kindly interest in the child
+that he has seen grow up&mdash;I think I am justified in saying, Kitty, that
+I do not consider young Luttrell worthy of you."</p>
+
+<p>The calm, unimpassioned tones produced their usual effect on poor Kitty.
+She felt thoroughly crushed. And yet there was a rising anger in her
+heart. What reason had Rupert Vivian to hold himself so far aloof from
+her? Was he not Percival's friend? Why should he look down from such
+heights of superiority upon Percival's sister?</p>
+
+<p>"I speak to you in this way," Rupert went on, with studied quietness,
+"because you have less of the guardianship usually given to girls of
+your age than most girls have. Mrs. Heron is, I know, exceedingly kind
+and amiable, but she has her own little ones to think of, and then she,
+too, is young. Miss Murray, although sensible and right-thinking in
+every way, is too near your own age to be a guide for you. Percival is
+away. Therefore, you must let me take an elder brother's place to you
+for once, and warn you when I see that you are in danger."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty had risen from her knees, and was now standing, with her face
+still averted, and her lips hidden by a feather fan which she had taken
+from the mantelpiece. There was a sharper ring in her voice as she
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to think I need warning. You seem to think I cannot take care
+of myself. You have reminded me once or twice lately that I was a woman
+now and not a child. Pray, allow me the woman's privilege of choosing
+for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have displeased you," said Vivian, gravely. "Am I to
+understand that my warning comes too late?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pause before she answered coldly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Quite too late."</p>
+
+<p>"Your choice has fallen upon Hugo Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty was stripping the feathers ruthlessly from her fan. She answered
+with an agitated little laugh:</p>
+
+<p>"That is not a fair question. You had better ask him."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I do not need," said Rupert. Then, in a low and rather ironical
+tone, he added, "Pray accept my congratulations." She bowed her head
+with a scornful smile, and let him leave the room without another word.
+What was the use of speaking? The severance was complete between them
+now.</p>
+
+<p>They had quarrelled before, but Kitty felt, bitterly enough, that now
+they were not quarrelling. She had built up a barrier between them which
+he was the last man to tear down. He would simply turn his back upon her
+now and go his own way. And she did not know how to call him back. She
+felt vaguely that her innocent little wiles were lost upon him. She
+might put on her prettiest dresses, and sing her sweetest songs, but
+they would never cause him to linger a moment longer by her side than
+was absolutely necessary. He had given her up.</p>
+
+<p>She felt, too, with a great swelling of heart, that her roused pride had
+made her imply what was not true. He would always think that she was
+engaged to Hugo Luttrell. She had, at least, made him understand that
+she was prepared to accept Hugo when he proposed to her. And all the
+world knew that Hugo meant to propose&mdash;Kitty herself knew it best of
+all.</p>
+
+<p>The day came on which Rupert was to return to London. Scarcely a word
+had been interchanged between him and Kitty since the conversation which
+has been recorded. She thought, as she stole furtive glances towards him
+from time to time, that he looked harassed, and even depressed, but in
+manner he was more cheerful than it was his custom to be. When the time
+came for saying good-bye, he held out his hand to her with a kindly
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Kitty," he said, "let us be friends."</p>
+
+<p>Her heart gave a wild leap which seemed almost to suffocate her; she
+looked up into his face with changing colour and eager eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," she began, with a little gasp. "I did not mean all I said
+the other day, and I wanted to tell you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>To herself it seemed as if these words were a tremendous self-betrayal;
+to Vivian they were less than nothing&mdash;commonplace sentences enough;
+uttered in a frightened, childish tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you not mean it all?" he said, giving her hand a friendly pressure.
+"Well, never mind; neither did I. We are quits, are we not? I will not
+obtrude my advice upon you again, and you must forgive me for having
+already done so. Good-bye, my dear child; I trust you will be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never be happy," said Kitty, withdrawing her hand from his,
+"never, never, never!" And then she burst into tears and rushed out of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian looked after her with a slightly puzzled expression, but did not
+attempt to call her back.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a very favourable day for Hugo's suit, and he was received
+that afternoon in anything but a sunshiny mood by Miss Heron. For almost
+the first time she snubbed him unmercifully, but he had been treated
+with so much graciousness on all previous occasions that the snubs did
+not produce very much impression upon him. And, finding himself alone
+with her for a few minutes, he was rash enough to make the venture upon
+which he had set his heart, without considering whether he had chosen
+the best moment for the experiment or not. Accordingly, he failed. A few
+brief words passed between them, but the few were sufficient to convince
+Hugo Luttrell that he had never won Kitty Heron's heart. To his infinite
+surprise and mortification, she refused his offer of marriage most
+decidedly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FALSE ALARM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Angela's departure from Netherglen had already taken place. Hugo was not
+sorry that she was gone. Her gentle words and ways were a restraint upon
+him: he felt obliged to command himself in her presence. And
+self-command was becoming more and more a difficult task. What he wanted
+to say or to do presented itself to him with overmastering force: it
+seemed foolishly weak to give up, for the sake of a mere scruple of
+conscience, any design on which he had set his heart. And above all
+things in life he desired just now to win Kitty Heron for himself.</p>
+
+<p>"She has deceived me," he thought, as he sat alone on the evening of the
+day on which she had refused to marry him. "She made me believe that she
+cared for me, the little witch, and then she deliberately threw me over.
+I suppose she wants to marry Vivian. I'll stop that scheme. I'll tell
+her something about Vivian which she does not know."</p>
+
+<p>The fire before which he was sitting burnt up brightly, and threw a red
+glow on the dark panelling of the room, on the brocaded velvet of the
+old chair against which he leaned his handsome head, on the pale, but
+finely-chiselled, features of his face. The look of subtlety, of mingled
+passion and cruelty, was becoming engraved upon that face: in moments of
+repose its expression was evil and sinister&mdash;an expression which told
+its own tale of his life and thoughts. Once, in London, when he had
+incautiously given himself up in a public place to rejection upon his
+plans, an artist said to a friend as they passed him by: "That young
+fellow has got the very look I want for the fallen angel in my picture.
+There's a sort of malevolent beauty about his face which one doesn't
+often meet." Hugo heard the remark, and smoothed his brow, inwardly
+determining to control his facial muscles better. He did not wish to
+give people a bad impression of him. To look like a fallen angel was the
+last thing he desired. In society, therefore, he took pains to appear
+gentle and agreeable; but the hours of his solitude were stamping his
+face with ineradicable traces of the vicious habits, the thoughts of
+crime, the attempts to do evil, in which his life was passed.</p>
+
+<p>The ominous look was strongly marked on his face as he sat by the fire
+that evening. It was not the firelight only that gave a strange glow to
+his dark eyes&mdash;they were unnaturally luminous, as the eyes of madmen
+sometimes are, and full of a painful restlessness. The old, dreamy,
+sensuous languor was seldom seen in their shadowy depths.</p>
+
+<p>"I will win her in spite of herself," he went on, muttering the words
+half-aloud: "I will make her love me whether she will or no. She may
+fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before
+very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her
+brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February.
+Yes&mdash;before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.</p>
+
+<p>He did not sleep much that night. He had lately grown very wakeful, and
+on this night he did not go to bed at all. The servants heard him
+wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning, opening and
+shutting doors, pacing the long passages, stealing up and downstairs.
+One of the maids put her head out of her door, and reported that the
+house was all lit up as if for a dance&mdash;rooms and corridors were
+illuminated. It was one of Hugo's whims that he could not bear the dark.
+When he walked the house in this way he always lighted every lamp and
+candle that he could find. He fancied that strange faces looked at him
+in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>Confusion and distress reigned next day at Netherglen. Mr. Luttrell had
+taken upon himself to dismiss one or two of the servants, and this was
+resented as a liberty by the housekeeper, who had lived there long
+before he had made his appearance in Scotland at all. He had paid two of
+the maids a month's wages in advance, and told them to leave the house
+within four-and-twenty hours. The household had already been
+considerably reduced, and the indignant housekeeper immediately
+announced her intention of going to Mr. Colquhoun and inquiring whether
+young Mr. Luttrell had been legally empowered to manage his aunt's
+affairs. And seeing that this really was her intention, Hugo smiled and
+spoke her fair.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a little hard on me, Mrs. Shairp," he said, in dulcet tones. "I
+was going to speak to you privately about these arrangements. You, of
+course, ought never to go away from Netherglen, and, whoever goes, you
+shall not. You must be here to welcome Mr. Brian when he comes home
+again, and to give my wife a greeting when I bring her to
+Netherglen&mdash;which I hope I shall do very shortly."</p>
+
+<p>"An' wha's the leddy, Maister Hugo?" said the housekeeper, a little
+mollified by his words. "It'll be Miss Murray, maybe? The mistress liked
+the glint of her bonny een. 'Jean,' she said to me; the day Miss Murray
+cam' to pay her respects, 'Jean, yon lassie steps like a princess.'
+Ye'll be nae sae far wrang, Maister Hugo, if it's Miss Murray that ye
+mak' your bride."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not Miss Murray," said Hugo, carelessly; "it is her cousin, Miss
+Heron."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Shairp's eyebrows expressed astonishment and contempt, although her
+lips murmured only&mdash;"That wee bit lassie!" But she made no further
+objection to the plan which Hugo now suggested to her. He wanted her not
+to leave Mrs. Luttrell's service (or so he said), but to take a few
+weeks' holiday. She had a sister in Aberdeen&mdash;could she not pay this
+sister a visit? Mrs. Luttrell should have every care during the
+housekeeper's absence&mdash;two trained nurses were with her night and day;
+and a Miss Corcoran, a cousin of the Luttrell family, was shortly
+expected. Mr. Colquhoun had spoken to him about the necessity of
+economy, and for that reason he wished to reduce the number of servants
+as much as possible. He was going away to London, and there would be no
+need of more than one servant in the house. In fact, the gardener and
+his wife could do all that would be required.</p>
+
+<p>"Me leave my mistress to the care o' John Robertson and his wife!"
+ejaculated the housekeeper, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Hugo had to convince her that Mrs. Luttrell was perfectly safe
+in the hands of the two nurses&mdash;at any rate for a week. During that
+week, one or two necessary alterations could be made in the house&mdash;there
+was a water-pipe and a drain that needed attention, in Hugo's
+opinion&mdash;and this could be done while the house was comparatively
+empty&mdash;"before Brian came home." With this formula he never failed to
+calm Mrs. Shairp's wrath and allay her rising fears.</p>
+
+<p>For she had fears. She did not know why Mr. Hugo seemed to want her out
+of the way. She fancied that he had secret plans which he could not
+carry out if the house were full of servants. She tried every possible
+pretext for staying at home, but she felt herself worsted at all points
+when it came to matters of argument. She did not like to appeal to Mr.
+Colquhoun. For she knew, as well as everybody in the county knew, that
+Mrs. Luttrell had made Hugo the heir to all she had to leave; and that
+before very long he would probably be the master of Netherglen. As a
+matter of fact, he was even now virtually the master, and she had gone
+beyond her duty, she thought, in trying to argue with him. She did not
+know what to do, and so she succumbed to his more persistent will. After
+all, she had no reason to fear that anything would go wrong. She said
+that she would go for a week or ten days, but not for a longer time.
+"Well, well," said Hugo, in a soothing tone, as if he were making a
+concession, "come back in a week, if you like, my good Mrs. Shairp. You
+will find the house very uncomfortable&mdash;that is all. I am going to turn
+painters and decorators loose in the upper rooms; the servants' quarters
+are in a most dilapidated condition."</p>
+
+<p>"If the penters are coming in, it's just the time that I sud be here,
+sir," said Mrs. Shairp, firmly, but respectfully. And Hugo smiled an
+assent.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact he had got all he wanted. He wanted Mrs. Shairp out
+of the house for a week or ten days. For that space of time he wished to
+have Netherglen to himself. She announced, after some hesitation, that
+she would leave for Aberdeen on the twenty-eighth, and that she should
+stay a week, or at the most, a day or two longer. "She's safe for a
+fortnight," said Hugo to himself with a triumphant smile. He had other
+preparations to make, and he set to work to make them steadily.</p>
+
+<p>It was a remark made by Kitty herself at their last interview that had
+suggested to his mind the whole mad scheme to which he was devoting his
+mental powers. It all hinged upon the fact that Kitty was going to spend
+a week with some friends in Edinburgh&mdash;friends whom Hugo knew only by
+name. She went to them on the twenty-seventh. Mrs. Shairp left
+Netherglen the twenty-eighth. Two hours after Mrs. Shairp had started on
+her journey the two remaining servants were dismissed. The plumber, who
+had been severely inspected and cautioned as to his behaviour that
+morning by Mrs. Shairp, was sent about his business. One of the nurses
+was also discharged. The only persons left in the house beside Mrs.
+Luttrell, the solitary nurse, and Hugo himself, were two; a young
+kitchen-maid, generally supposed to be somewhat deficient in intellect,
+and a man named Stevens, whom Hugo had employed at various times in
+various capacities, and characterised (with rather an odd smile) as "a
+very useful fellow." The nurse who remained, protested vigorously
+against this state of affairs, but was assured by Hugo in the politest
+manner, that it would last only for a day or two, that he regretted it
+as much as she did, that he would telegraph to Edinburgh for another
+nurse immediately. What could the poor woman do? She was obliged to
+submit to circumstances. She could no more withstand Hugo's smiling,
+than she liked to refuse&mdash;in despite of all rules&mdash;the handsome gratuity
+that he slid into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Kitty was trying to forget her past sorrows in the society of
+some newly-made friends in Edinburgh. Here, if anywhere, she might
+forget that Rupert Vivian had despised her, and that Hugo Luttrell
+accused her of being a heartless coquette. She was not heartless&mdash;or, at
+least, not more so than girls of eighteen usually are&mdash;but, perhaps, she
+was a little bit of a coquette. Of course, she had acted foolishly with
+respect to Vivian and Hugo Luttrell. But her foolishness brought its own
+punishment.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the second day of her visit that a telegram was brought to
+her. She tore it open in some surprise, exclaiming:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They must have had news of Percival!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she read the message and turned pale.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said one of her friends, coming to her side.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty held out the paper for her to read.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth Murray, Queen's Hotel, Muirside, to Miss Heron, Merchiston
+Terrace, Edinburgh. Your father has met with a serious accident, and is
+not able to move from Muirside. He wishes you to come by the next train,
+which leaves Edinburgh at four-thirty. You shall be met at the Muirside
+Station either by Hugo or myself."</p>
+
+<p>"There is time for me to catch the train, is there not?" said Kitty,
+jumping up, with her eyes full of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, dear, yes, plenty of time. But who is to go with you?" said
+Mrs. Baxter, rather nervously. "I am so sorry John is not at home; but
+there is scarcely time to let him know."</p>
+
+<p>"I can go perfectly well by myself," said Kitty. "You must put me into
+the train at the station, Mrs. Baxter, under the care of the guard, if
+you like, and I shall be met at Muirside."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Muirside?" asked Jessie Baxter, a girl of Kitty's age.</p>
+
+<p>"Five miles from Dunmuir. I suppose papa was sketching or something. Oh!
+I hope it is not a very bad accident!" said Kitty, turning great,
+tearful eyes first on Mrs. Baxter, and then on the girls. "What shall we
+do! I must go and get ready instantly."</p>
+
+<p>They followed her to her room, and anxiously assisted in the
+preparations for her journey, but even then Mrs. Baxter could not
+refrain from inquiring:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who is the person who is to meet you? 'Hugo'&mdash;do you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, he is Elizabeth's cousin, and Elizabeth is my cousin. We are
+connections you see. I know him very well," said Kitty, with a blush,
+which Mrs. Baxter remembered afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"I would go with you myself," she said, "if it were not for the cold,
+but I am afraid I should be laid up with bronchitis if I went."</p>
+
+<p>"Let Janet go, mamma," cried one of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want Janet, indeed, I don't want her," said Kitty, earnestly.
+"I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Baxter, but, indeed, I can manage quite
+well by myself. It is quite a short journey, only two-hours-and-a-half;
+and it would be a pity to take her, especially as she could not get back
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>She carried her point, and was allowed to depart without an attendant.
+Mrs. Baxter went with her to the station, and put her under the care of
+the guard who promised to look after her.</p>
+
+<p>"You will write to us, Kitty, and tell us how Mr. Heron is," said Mrs.
+Baxter, before the train moved off.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will telegraph," said Kitty, "as soon as I reach Muirside."</p>
+
+<p>"Do, dear. I hope you will find him better. Take care of yourself," and
+then the train moved out of the station, and Mrs. Baxter went home.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty's journey was a perfectly uneventful one, and would have been
+comfortable enough but for the circumstances under which she made it.
+The telegram lay upon her lap, and she read it over and over again with
+increasing alarm as she noticed its careful vagueness, which seemed to
+her the worst sign of all. She was heartily relieved when she found that
+she was nearing Muirside: the journey had never seemed so long to her
+before. It was, indeed, longer than usual, for the railway line was in
+some places partly blocked with snow, and eight o'clock was past before
+Kitty reached Muirside. She looked anxiously out of the window, and saw
+Hugo Luttrell on the platform before the train had stopped. He sprang up
+to the step, and looked at her for a moment without speaking. Kitty had
+time to think that the expression of his face was odd before he replied
+to her eager questions about her father.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is a little better; he wants to see you," said Hugo at last.</p>
+
+<p>"But how has he hurt himself? Is he seriously ill? Oh, Hugo, do tell me
+everything. Anything is better than suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need for such great anxiety; he is a great deal better,
+quite out of danger," Hugo answered, with a rather strange smile. "I
+will tell you more as we go up to the house. Don't be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>And then the guard came up to assure himself of the young lady's safety,
+and to receive his tip. Hugo made it a large one. Kitty's luggage was
+already in the hands of a man whom she thought she recognised: she had
+seen him once or twice with Hugo, and once when she paid a state-call at
+Netherglen. Just as she was leaving the station, a thought occurred to
+her, and she turned back.</p>
+
+<p>"I said I would telegraph to Mrs. Baxter as soon as I reached Muirside.
+Is it too late?"</p>
+
+<p>"The office is shut, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so sorry! She will be anxious."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if you telegraph first thing in the morning," said Hugo,
+soothingly. "Or&mdash;stay: I'll tell you what you can do. Come with me here,
+into the waiting-room&mdash;now you can write your message on a leaf of my
+pocket-book, and we will leave it with the station-master, to be sent
+off as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I say?" said Kitty, sitting down at the painted deal table,
+which was sparsely adorned with a water-bottle and a tract, and chafing
+her little cold hands. "Do write it for me, Hugo, please. My fingers are
+quite numb."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little fingers! You will be warmer soon," said Hugo, with more of
+his usual manner. "I will write in your name then. 'Arrived safely and
+found my father much better, but will write in a day or two and give
+particulars.' That does not tie you down, you see. You may be too busy
+to write to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. It will do very nicely."</p>
+
+<p>She was left for a few minutes, whilst he went to the station-master
+with the message, and she took the opportunity of looking at herself in
+the glass above the mantelpiece, partly in order to see whether her
+bonnet was straight, partly in order to escape the stare of the
+waiting-room woman, who seemed to take a great deal of interest in her
+movements. Kitty was rather vexed when Hugo returned, to hear him say,
+in a very distinct tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come, dearest. We shall be late if we don't set off at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugo!" she ejaculated, as she met him at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, dear? What is wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her that he made his words still more purposely distinct.
+The woman in the waiting-room came to the door, and gazed after them as
+they moved away towards the carriage which stood in waiting. They made a
+handsome pair, and Hugo looked particularly lover-like as he gave the
+girl his arm and bent his head to listen to what she had to say. But
+Kitty's words were not loving; they were only indignant and distressed.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not speak to me in that way," she said.</p>
+
+<p>But Hugo laughed and pressed her arm as he helped her into the carriage.
+The man Stevens was already on the box. Hugo entered with her, closed
+the door and drew up the window. The carriage drove away into the
+darkness of an unlighted road, and disappeared from the sight of a knot
+of gazers collected round the station door.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like a wedding," said the woman of the waiting-room, as she turned
+back to the deal table with the water bottle and the tract. "Just like a
+wedding."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Baxter received her telegram next morning, and was comforted by it.
+She noticed that the message was dated from Muirside Station, and that
+she must, therefore, wait until Kitty sent the promised letter before
+she wrote to Kitty, as she did not know where Mr. Heron might be
+staying. But as the days passed on and nothing more was heard, she
+addressed a letter of inquiry to Kitty at Strathleckie. To her amaze it
+was sent back to Merchiston Terrace, as if the Herons thought that Kitty
+was still with her, and a batch of letters with the Dunmuir postmark
+began to accumulate on the Baxters' table. Finally there came a postcard
+from Elizabeth, which Mrs. Baxter took the liberty of reading.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Kitty</span>," it ran, "why do you not write to us? When are you coming
+back? We shall expect you on Saturday, if we hear nothing to the
+contrary from you. Uncle Alfred will meet you at Dunmuir."</p>
+
+<p>"There is something wrong here," gasped poor Mrs. Baxter.</p>
+
+<p>"What has become of that child if she is not with her friends? What does
+it mean?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>TRAPPED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>No sooner had the carriage door closed, than Kitty began to question her
+companion about the accident to her father. Hugo replied with evident
+reluctance&mdash;a reluctance which only increased her alarm. She began, to
+shed tears at last, and implored him to tell her the whole story,
+repeating that "anything would be better than suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say more than I have done," said Hugo, in a muffled voice.
+"You will know soon&mdash;and, besides, as I have told you, there is nothing
+for you to be alarmed at; indeed there is not. Do you think I would
+deceive you in that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," faltered Kitty. "You are very kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call it kindness. You know that I would do anything for you."
+Then, noticing that the vehemence of his tone made her shrink away from
+him, he added more calmly, "you will soon understand why I am acting in
+this way. Wait for a little while and you will see."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a few minutes, and then said in a subdued tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You frighten me, Hugo, by telling me that I shall know&mdash;soon; that I
+shall see&mdash;soon. What are you hiding from me? You make me fancy terrible
+things. My father is not&mdash;not-dying&mdash;dead? Hugo, tell me the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I solemnly assure you, Kitty, that your father is not even in danger."</p>
+
+<p>"Then someone else is ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed. Be patient for a little time, and you shall see them all."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty clasped her hands together with a sigh, and resigned herself to
+her position. She leaned back in the comfortably-cushioned seat for a
+time, and then roused herself to look out of the window. The night was a
+dark one: she could see little but vague forms of tall trees on either
+hand, but she felt by the motion of the carriage that they were going
+uphill.</p>
+
+<p>"We have not much further to go, have we?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Some distance, I am sorry to say. Your father was removed to a
+farmhouse four miles from the station&mdash;the house nearest the scene of
+the accident."</p>
+
+<p>"Four miles!" faltered Kitty. "I thought that it was close to the
+station."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it disagreeable to you to drive so far with me?" said Hugo. "I will
+get out and sit on the box if you do not want me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I should not like you to do that," said Kitty. But in her
+heart, she wished that she had brought Mrs. Baxter's Janet.</p>
+
+<p>Her next question showed some uneasiness, though of what kind Hugo could
+not exactly discover.</p>
+
+<p>"Whose brougham is this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Luttrell's. I borrowed it for the occasion."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good. I could easily have come in a fly."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say you would rather have done so," said Hugo, allowing his voice
+to fall into a caressing murmur. But either Kitty did not hear, or was
+displeased by this recurrence to his old habit of saying lover-like
+things; for she gazed blankly out of the window, and made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>After an hour's drive, the carriage turned in at some white gates, and
+stopped in a paved courtyard surrounded by high walls. Kitty gazed round
+her, thinking that she had seen the place before, but she was not
+allowed to linger. Hugo hurried her through a door into a stone hall,
+and down some dark passages, cautioning her from time to time to make no
+noise. Once Kitty tried to draw back. "Where is Elizabeth?" she said.
+"Is not Isabel here? Why is everything so still?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo pointed to the end of the corridor in which they stood. A nurse, in
+white cap and apron, was going from one room to another. She did not
+look round, but Kitty was reassured by her appearance. "Is papa there?"
+she said in a whisper. "Is this the farmhouse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come this way," said Hugo, pointing with his finger to a narrow wooden
+staircase before them. Kitty obeyed him without a word. Her limbs
+trembled beneath her with fatigue, and cold, and fear. It seemed to her
+that Hugo was agitated, too. His face was averted, but his voice had an
+unnatural sound.</p>
+
+<p>They mounted two flights of stairs and came out upon a narrow landing,
+where there were three doors: one of them a thick baize door, the others
+narrow wooden ones. Hugo opened one of the wooden doors and showed a
+small sitting-room, where a meal was laid, and a fire spread a pleasant
+glow over the scene. The other door opened upon another narrow flight of
+stairs, leading, as Kitty afterwards ascertained, to a small bed-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is papa?" said Kitty, glancing hurriedly around her. "He cannot
+be on this floor surely? Please take me to him at once, Mr. Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done that I should be called Mr. Luttrell?" said Hugo, who
+was pulling off his fur gloves and standing with his back to the door.
+There was a look of triumph upon his face, which Kitty thought very
+insolent, and could not understand. "We are cousins after a fashion, are
+we not? You must eat and drink after your journey before you undergo any
+agitation. There is a room prepared for you upstairs, I believe. This
+meal seems to have been made ready for me as well as for you, however.
+Let me give you a glass of wine."</p>
+
+<p>He walked slowly towards the table as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want anything," said Kitty, impatiently. "I want to see my
+father. Where are the people of the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"The people of the house? You saw the nurse just now. I will go and
+ascertain, if you like, whether the patient can be seen or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me come with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not," said Hugo, slowly. "No, I will not trouble you to do
+that. I will be back in a moment or two. Excuse me."</p>
+
+<p>He made his exit very rapidly. From the sound that followed, it seemed
+that he had gone through the baize door. After a moment's hesitation
+Kitty followed and laid her hand on the brass handle. But she pushed in
+vain. There was no latch and no key to be seen, but the door resisted
+her efforts; and, as she stood hesitating, a man came up the narrow
+stair which she had mounted on her way from the courtyard, and forced
+her to retreat a step or two. He was carrying her box and hand-bag.</p>
+
+<p>"This door is difficult to open," said Kitty. "Will you please open it
+for me?"</p>
+
+<p>The man, Hugo's factotum, Stevens, gave her an odd glance as he set down
+his burden.</p>
+
+<p>"The door won't open from this side unless you have the key, miss," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not open from this side? Then I must have the key," said Kitty,
+decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, miss." Steven's tone was perfectly respectful, and yet Kitty felt
+that he was laughing at her in his sleeve. "Mr. Luttrell, perhaps, can
+get you the key, miss."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so. Put the box down, please. No, it need not be
+uncorded until I know whether I shall stay the night."</p>
+
+<p>The man obeyed her somewhat imperiously-uttered commands with an air of
+careful submission. He then went down the dark stairs. Kitty heard his
+footsteps for some little distance. Then, came the sound of a closing
+door, and the click of a key in the lock. Then silence. Was she locked
+in? She wished that the baize door had not been closed, and she chid
+herself for nervousness. Hugo had shut it accidentally&mdash;it would be all
+right when he came back. Excited and fearful as she was, she chose to
+fortify herself against the unknown, by swallowing a biscuit and a
+draught of black coffee. When this was done she felt stronger in every
+way&mdash;morally as well as physically. She had been faint for want of food.</p>
+
+<p>Would Hugo never come back? He was absent a quarter-of-an-hour, she
+verified that fact by reference to a little enamelled watch which
+Elizabeth had given her on her last birthday. She had taken off her hat
+and cloak, and smoothed her rebellious locks into something like order
+before he returned.</p>
+
+<p>"Why have you been so long?" she said, rather plaintively, when the door
+moved at last. "And, oh, please, if I am to stop here at all, will you
+find out whether I can have the key of that door? The man who brought up
+my boxes says it will not open from this side, and I cannot bear to feel
+that I am shut in. May I go to papa, now?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not like being a prisoner, do you?" said Hugo, totally ignoring,
+her last question. "So much the better for you&mdash;so much the better for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty recoiled a little. She did not know what had happened to him, but
+she saw that his face expressed some mood which she had never seen it
+express before. It was flushed, and his eyes glittered with an unnatural
+light. And surely there was a faint odour of brandy in the room which
+had not been there before his entrance! She recoiled from him, but she
+was brave enough to show no other sign of fear.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you mean," she said, "but I know that I want to go to
+my father. Please put an end to this mystery and take me to him at
+once."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will put an end to the mystery," said Hugo, drawing nearer to
+her, and putting out his hands as if he wished to take hers. "There is
+more of a mystery than you can guess, but there shall be one no longer.
+Ah, Kitty, won't you forgive me when I tell you what I have done? It was
+for your sake that I have sunk to these depths&mdash;or risen to these
+heights, I hardly know which to call them&mdash;for your sake, because I love
+you, love you as no other woman in the world, Kitty, was ever loved
+before!"</p>
+
+<p>He threw himself down on his knees before her, in passionate
+self-abasement, and lifted his ardent eyes pleadingly to her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, forgive me," he said. "Tell me that you forgive me before I tell
+you what I have done."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty had turned very pale. "What have you done?" she asked. "How can I
+forgive you if I do not know what to forgive? Pray get up, Hugo; I
+cannot bear to see you acting in this way."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I rise till I have confessed?" said Hugo, seizing one of her
+hands and pressing it to his lips. "Ah, Kitty, remember that it was all
+because I loved you! You will not be too hard upon me, darling? Tell me
+that you love me a little, and then I shall not despair."</p>
+
+<p>"But, I do not love you; I told you so before," said Kitty, trying hard
+to draw away her hand. "And it is wicked of you to say these things to
+me here and now. Where is my father? Take me to him at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dearest, be kind and good to me," entreated Hugo. "Can you not
+guess?&mdash;then how can I tell you?&mdash;your father is well&mdash;as well as ever
+he was in his life."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" cried Kitty. "Then was it a mistake? Was it some one else who
+was hurt? Who sent the telegram?"</p>
+
+<p>"I sent the telegram. I wanted you here."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was a trick&mdash;a hoax&mdash;a lie? How dare you, sir! And why have you
+brought me here? What is this place?"</p>
+
+<p>"This place, Kitty, is Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Netherglen!" said Kitty, in a relieved tone of voice. "Oh, it is not so
+very far from home."</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned sharply upon him with a flash in her eye that he had
+never seen before.</p>
+
+<p>"You must let me go home at once; and you will please understand, Mr.
+Luttrell, that I wish to have no further intercourse with you of any
+sort. After the cruel and unkind and useless trick that you have played
+upon me, you must see that you have put an end to all friendship between
+yourself and my family. My father will call you to account for it."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty spoke strongly and proudly. Her eyes met his undauntedly: her head
+was held high, her step was firm as she moved towards the door. If she
+trembled internally, she showed at least no sign of fear.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I knew that you would be angry at first," said Hugo; "but you will
+listen to me, and you will understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not listen. I do not want to understand," cried Kitty, with a
+slight stamp of her little foot. "Angry at first! Do you think I shall
+ever forgive you? I shall never see you nor speak to you again. Let me
+pass."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo had still been kneeling, but he now rose to his feet and confronted
+her. The flush was dying out of his face, but his eyes retained their
+unnatural brightness still.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot pass that door just yet," he said, with sudden, dangerous
+calmness. "You must wait until I let you go. You ask if I think you will
+ever forgive me? Yes, I do. You say you will never see me or speak to me
+again? I say that you will see me many times, and speak to me in a very
+different tone before you leave Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Be kind enough to stand out of the way and open the door for me," said
+Kitty, with supreme contempt. "I do not want to hear any more of this
+nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, do you call it? You will give it a very different name before
+long, my fair Kitty. Do you think I am in play? Do you think I should
+risk&mdash;what I have risked, if I meant to gain nothing by it? I am in
+sober, solemn earnest, and know very well what I am doing, and what I
+want to gain."</p>
+
+<p>"What can you gain," said Kitty, boldly facing him, "except disgrace and
+punishment? What do you think my father will say to you for bringing me
+away from Edinburgh on false pretences? What will you tell my brother
+when he comes home?"</p>
+
+<p>"As for your brother," said Hugo, with a sneer, "he is not very likely
+to come home again at all. His ship has been wrecked, and all lives
+lost. As for your father&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He was interrupted by a passionate cry from the girl's pale lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Wrecked! Percival's ship lost! Oh, it cannot be true!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is true enough&mdash;at least report says so. It may be a false report!"</p>
+
+<p>"It must be a false report! You would not have the heart to tell me the
+news so cruelly if it were true! But no, I forgot. You made me believe
+that my father was dying; you do not mind being cruel. Still, I don't
+believe you. I shall never again believe a word you say. Oh! Percival,
+Percival!" And then, to prove how little she believed him, Kitty burst
+into tears, and pressed her handkerchief to her face. Hugo stood and
+watched her earnestly, and she, on looking up, found his eyes fixed upon
+her. The gaze brought back all her ire. "Order the carriage for me at
+once, and let me go out of your sight," she said. "I cannot bear to look
+at you!"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty was not dignified in her wrath, but she was so pretty that Hugo's
+lips curled with a smile of enjoyment. At the same time he felt that he
+must bring her to a sense of her position. She had not as yet the least
+notion of what he meant to require of her. And it would be better that
+she should understand. He folded his arms and leant against the door as
+he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going away just yet," he said. "I have got my pretty bird
+caged at last, and she may beat her wings against the bars as much as
+she pleases, but she will not leave her cage until she is a little tamer
+than she is now. When she can sing to the tune I will teach her, I will
+let her go."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" said Kitty. "Stand away from the door, Mr. Luttrell.
+I want to pass."</p>
+
+<p>"I will stand aside presently and let you go&mdash;as far as the doors will
+let you. But just now you must listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not listen. I will call the servants," she said, pulling a
+bell-handle which she had found beside the mantelpiece.</p>
+
+<p>"Ring as much as you please. Nobody will come. The bell-wire has been
+cut."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will call. Somebody must hear."</p>
+
+<p>"My man, Stevens, may hear, perhaps. But he will not come unless I
+summon him."</p>
+
+<p>"But the other servants&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There are no other servants in this part of the house. The kitchen-maid
+and the nurse sleep close to Mrs. Luttrell's room&mdash;so far away that not
+your loudest scream would reach their ears. You are in my power, Kitty.
+I could kill you if I liked, and nobody could interfere."</p>
+
+<p>What strange light was that within his eyes? Was it the light of madness
+or of love? For the first time Kitty was seized with positive fear of
+him. She listened, the colour dying out of her face, and her eyes slowly
+dilating with terror as she heard what he had to say.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you now what I have done," he said, "and then I will ask
+you, once more, to forgive me. It is your own fault if I love you madly,
+wildly, as I do. You led me on. You let me tell you that I loved you;
+you seemed to care for me too, sometimes. By the time that you had made
+up your mind, to throw me over, Kitty, my love had grown into a passion
+that must be satisfied. There are two ways in which, it can end, and two
+only. I might kill you&mdash;other men of my race have killed the women who
+trifled with them and deceived them. I could forgive you for what you
+have made me suffer, if I saw you lying dead at my feet, child; that is
+the first way. And the second&mdash;be mine&mdash;be my wife; that is the better
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" said Kitty, firmly, although her white lips quivered with an
+unspoken fear. "Kill me, if you like. I would rather be killed than be
+your wife now."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I do not want to kill you!" cried Hugo, his dark face lighting
+up with a sudden glow, which made it hatefully brilliant and beautiful,
+even in Kitty's frightened eyes. He left the door and came towards her,
+holding out his hands and gesticulating as he spoke. "I want you to be
+my wife, my own sweet flower, my exquisite bird, for whom no cage can be
+half too fine! I want you to be mine; my own darling&mdash;&mdash;. I would give
+Heaven and earth for that; I have already risked all that makes life
+worth living. Men love selfishly; but you shall be loved as no other
+woman was ever loved. You shall be my queen, my angel, my wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will die first," said Kitty. Before he could interpose, she snatched
+a knife from the table, and held it with the point turned towards him.
+"Come a step nearer," she cried, "and I shall know how to defend
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>Hugo stopped short. "You little fool!" he said, angrily. "Put the knife
+down."</p>
+
+<p>She thought that he was afraid; and, still holding her weapon, she made
+a rush for the door; but Hugo caught her skilfully by the wrists,
+disarmed her, and threw the knife to the other end of the room. Then he
+made her sit down in an arm-chair near the fire, and without relaxing
+his hold upon her arm, addressed her in cool but forcible tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You need not be so frightened or
+so foolish. I won't come near you, unless you give me leave. I am going
+to have your full and free consent, my little lady, before I make you my
+wife. But, this I want you to understand. I have you here&mdash;a prisoner;
+and a prisoner you will remain until you do consent. Nobody knows where
+you are&mdash;nobody will look for you here. You cannot escape; and if you
+could escape, nobody would believe your story. Do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>He took away his hand from her arm. But she did not try to move. She was
+trembling from head to foot. He looked at her silently for a little
+time, and then withdrew to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I will leave you now until to-morrow," he said, quietly. "There is a
+girl&mdash;a kitchen-maid&mdash;who will bring you your breakfast in the morning.
+You have this little wing of the house entirely to yourself, but I don't
+think that you will find any means of getting out of it. Good-night, my
+darling. You will forgive me yet."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>HUGO'S VICTORY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Kitty remained for some time in the state in which Hugo left her. She
+was only faintly conscious of his departure. The shutting of the baize
+door, and of another door beyond it, scarcely penetrated to her brain.
+She fancied that Hugo was still standing over her with a wild light in
+his eyes and the sinister smile upon his lips; and she dared not look up
+to see if the fancy were true. A sick, faint feeling came over her, and
+made her all the more disinclined to move.</p>
+
+<p>The fire, which had been burning hollow and red, fell in at last with a
+great crash; and the noise startled her into full consciousness. She sat
+erect in her chair, and looked about her fearfully. No, Hugo was not
+there. He had left the door of the room a little way open. With a
+shuddering desire to protect herself, she staggered to the door, closed
+it, looked for a key or a bolt, and found none; then sank down again
+upon a chair, and tried seriously to consider the position in which she
+found herself.</p>
+
+<p>There was not much comfort to be gained out of the reflections which
+occurred to her. If she was as much in Hugo's power as he represented
+her to be, she was in evil case, indeed. She thought over the
+arrangements which he seemed to have planned so carefully, and she saw
+that they were all devised so as to make it appear that she had been in
+the secret, that she had met him and gone away with him willingly. And
+her disappearance might not be made known for days. Mrs. Baxter would
+suppose that she was with her relations; her relations would think that
+she was still in Edinburgh. Inquiries might be made in the course of
+three or four days; but even if they were made so soon, they would
+probably be fruitless. The woman at the waiting-room, whose stare Kitty
+had resented, would perhaps give evidence that the gentleman had called
+her his "dearest," and taken her away with him in his carriage. She
+thought it all too likely that Hugo had planned matters so as to make
+everybody, believe that she had eloped with him of her own free-will.</p>
+
+<p>If escape were only possible! Surely there was some window, some door,
+by which she could leave the house! She would not mind a little danger.
+Better a broken bone or two than the fate which would await her as
+Hugo's wife&mdash;or as Hugo's prisoner. She turned to the window with a
+resolute step, drew aside the curtains, unbarred the shutters, and
+looked out.</p>
+
+<p>Disappointment awaited her. There was a long space of wall, and then the
+pointed roofs of some outhouses, which hid the courtyard and the road
+entirely from her sight. Beyond the roofs she could see the tops of
+trees, which, it was plain, would entirely conceal any view of her
+window from passers-by. It would be quite impossible to climb down to
+those sharp-gabled roofs; and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, the
+window was protected by strong iron bars, between which nobody could
+have squeezed more than an arm or foot. Moreover, the sash was nailed
+down. Kitty dropped the curtain with a despairing sigh.</p>
+
+<p>After a little hesitation, she took a candle and opened the sitting-room
+door. All was dark in the passage outside; but from the top of the
+flight of stairs leading to a higher storey, she could distinguish a
+glimmer of light which seemed to come from a window in the roof. She
+went up the stairs and found two tiny rooms; one a lumber-room, the
+other a bed-room. These were just underneath the roof, and had tiny
+triangular windows, which were decidedly too small to allow of anyone's
+escaping through them. Kitty peered through them both, and got a good
+view of the loch, glimmering whitely in the starlight between its black,
+wooded shores. She retraced her steps, and explored an empty room on the
+floor with her sitting-room, the window of which was also barred and
+nailed down. Then she went down the lower flight of steps until she came
+to a closed door, which had been securely fastened from the outside by
+the man who brought up her box. She shook it and beat it with her little
+fists; but all in vain. Nobody seemed to hear her knocks; or, if heard,
+they were disregarded. She tried the baize door with like ill-success.
+Hugo had said the truth; she was a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>At last, tired and disheartened, she crept back to her sitting-room. The
+fire was nearly out, and the night was a cold one. She muffled herself
+in her cloak and crouched down upon the sofa, crying bitterly. She
+thought herself too nervous, too excited, to sleep at all; and she
+certainly did not sleep for two or three hours. But exhaustion came at
+last, and, although she still started at the slightest sound, she fell
+into a doze, and thence into a tolerably sound slumber, which lasted
+until daylight looked in at the unshuttered window, and the baize door
+moved upon its hinges to admit the girl who was to act as Miss Heron's
+maid.</p>
+
+<p>The very sight of a girl&mdash;a woman like herself&mdash;brought hope to Kitty's
+mind. She started up, pressing her hands to her brow and pushing back
+the disordered hair. Then she addressed the girl with eager, persuasive
+words. But the kitchen-maid only shook her head. "Dinna ye ken that I'm
+stane-deef?" she said, pointing to her ears with a grin. For a moment
+Kitty in despair desisted from her efforts. Then she thought of another
+argument. She produced her purse, and showed the girl some sovereigns,
+then led her to the door, intimating by signs that she would give her
+the money if she would but open it. The girl seemed to understand, but
+laughed again and shook her head. "Na, na," she said. "I daurna lat ye
+oot sae lang's the maister's here." Hugo's coadjutors were apparently
+incorruptible.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen-maid proved herself equal to all the work required of her.
+She relighted the fire, cleared away the uneaten supper, and brought
+breakfast and hot water. Kitty discovered that everything she required
+was handed to the girl through a sliding panel in the door at the bottom
+of the stairs. There was no chance of escape through any chance opening
+of the door.</p>
+
+<p>She had no appetite, but she knew that she ought to eat in order to keep
+up her strength and courage. She therefore drank some coffee, and ate
+the scones which the maid brought her. The girl then took away the
+breakfast-things, put fresh fuel on the fire, and departed by the lower
+door. Kitty would have kept her if she could. Even a deaf kitchen-maid
+was better than no company at all.</p>
+
+<p>The view from the windows was no more encouraging by day than night.
+There seemed to be no way of communicating with the outer world. A
+letter flung from either storey would only reach the slanting roofs
+below, and lie on the slates until destroyed by snow and rain. Kitty
+doubted whether her voice would reach the courtyard, even if she raised
+it to its highest pitch. She tried it from the attic window, but it
+seemed to die away in the heights, and she could hardly hope that it had
+been heard by anyone either inside or outside the house.</p>
+
+<p>She was left alone for some time. About noon, as she was standing by her
+window, straining her eyes to discover some trace of a human being in
+the distance, whose attention she perhaps might catch if one could only
+be seen, she heard the door open and close again. She knew the footstep:
+it was neither that of the deaf girl nor of the man Stevens. It was Hugo
+Luttrell coming once more to plead his cause or lay his commands upon
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She turned round unwillingly and glanced at him with a faint hope that
+the night might have brought him to some change of purpose. But although
+the excitement of the previous evening had disappeared, there was no
+sign of relenting in his face. He came up to her and tried to take her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nuit porte conseil</i>," he began. "Have you thought better of last
+night's diversions? Have you arrived at any decision yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hugo," she burst out, clasping her hands, "don't speak to me in
+that sneering, terrible way. Have a little pity upon me. Let me go
+home!"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall go home to-morrow, if you will go as my wife, Kitty."</p>
+
+<p>"But you know that can never be," she expostulated. "How can you expect
+me to be your wife after all that you have made me suffer? Do you think
+I could ever love you as a wife should do? You would be miserable; and
+I&mdash;I&mdash;should break my heart." She burst into tears as she concluded, and
+wrung her hands together.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you make me suffer if you want me to pity you now?" said Hugo,
+in a low, merciless tone. "You used me shamefully: you know you did. I
+swore then to have my revenge; and I have it now. For every one of the
+tears you shed now, I have shed drops of my heart's blood. It is nothing
+to me if you suffer: your pain is nothing to what mine was when you cast
+me off like an old glove because your fancy had settled on Rupert
+Vivian. You shall feel your master now: you shall be mine and mine only;
+not his, nor any other's. I will have my revenge."</p>
+
+<p>"My fancy had settled on Rupert Vivian!" repeated Kitty, with a sudden
+rush of colour to her face. "Ah, how little you know about it! Rupert
+Vivian is far above me: he does not care for me. You have no business to
+speak of him."</p>
+
+<p>"He does not care for you, but you are in love with him," said Hugo,
+looking at her from between his narrowed eyelids with a long penetrating
+gaze. "I understand."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty shrank away from him. "No, no!" she cried. "I am not in love with
+anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"I know better," said Hugo. "I have seen it a long time: seen it in a
+thousand ways. You made no secret of it, you know. You threw yourself in
+his way: you did all that you could to attract him; but you failed. He
+had to tell you to be more careful, had he not?"</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you! How dare you!" cried the girl, starting up with her face
+aflame. "Never, never!" Then she threw herself down on the sofa and hid
+her face. Some memory came over her that made her writhe with shame.
+Hugo smiled to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody saw what was going on," he continued. "Everybody pitied you.
+People wondered at your friends for allowing you to manifest an
+unrequited attachment in that shameless manner. They supposed that you
+knew no better; but they wondered that Mrs. Heron and Elizabeth Murray
+did not caution you. Perhaps they did. You were never very good at
+taking a caution, were you, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>The only answer was a moan. He had found the way to torture her now; and
+he meant to use his power.</p>
+
+<p>"Vivian was a good deal chaffed about it. He used to be a great flirt
+when he was younger, but not so much of late years, you know. I'll
+confess now, Kitty, I taxed him one day with his conduct to you. He said
+he was sorry; he knew that you were head and ears in love with him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is false," said Kitty, lifting a very pale face from the cushions
+amongst which she had laid it. "Mr. Vivian never said anything of the
+kind. He is too much of a gentleman to say a thing like that."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know of the things that men say to each other when they are
+alone?" said Hugo, confident in her ignorance of the world, and
+professedly contemptuous. "He said what I have told you. And he said,
+too, that marriage was out of the question for him, on account of an
+unfortunate entanglement in his youth&mdash;a private marriage, or something
+of the kind; his wife is separated from him, but she is living still. He
+asked me to let you know this as soon and as gently as I could."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true?" she asked, in a low voice. Her face seemed to have grown
+ten years older in the last ten minutes: it was perfectly colourless,
+and the eyes had a dull, strained look, which was not softened even by
+the bright drops that still hung on her long lashes.</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly true," said Hugo. "Perhaps this paper will bring you
+conviction, if my word does not."</p>
+
+<p>He handed her a small slip cut from a newspaper, which had the air of
+having been in his possession for some time. Kitty took it and read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"On the 15th of October, at St. Botolph's Church, Manchester, Rupert,
+eldest son of the late Gerald Vivian, Esq., of Vivian Court, Devonshire,
+to Selina Mary Smithson. No cards."</p>
+
+<p>Just a commonplace announcement of marriage like any other. Kitty's eyes
+travelled to the top of the paper where the date was printed: 1863. "It
+is a long while ago," she said, pointing to the figures. "His wife may
+be dead." Her voice sounded hoarse and unnatural, even in her own ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps so," said Hugo, carelessly. "If he said that she were, I should
+not be much inclined to believe him. After all these years of secrecy a
+man will say anything. But he told me last year that she was living."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty laid down the paper with a sort of gasp and shiver. She murmured
+something to herself&mdash;it sounded like a prayer&mdash;"God help me!" or words
+to that effect&mdash;but she was quite unconscious of having spoken. Hugo
+took up the paper, and replaced it carefully in his pocket-book. He had
+held it in reserve for some time now; but he was not quite sure that it
+had done all its work.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," he went on, "you see a part&mdash;not the whole&mdash;of my motives,
+Kitty. I had been raging in my heart against this fellow's insolence for
+long enough; I wanted to stop the slanderous tongues of the people who
+were talking about you; and I hoped&mdash;when you were so kind and gracious
+to me&mdash;that you meant to be my wife. Therefore, when I asked you and you
+refused me, I grew desperate. Believe me, Kitty, or not, as you choose,
+but my love for you has nearly maddened me. I could not leave you
+to lay yourself open to the world's contempt and scorn: I was
+afraid&mdash;afraid&mdash;lest Vivian should do you harm in the world's eyes, and
+so I tried to save you, dear, to save you from yourself and him&mdash;even
+against your own will, when I brought you here."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes grew moist, and lost some of their wildness: he drew nearer,
+and ventured almost timidly to take her hand. She did not repulse him,
+and from her silence and motionlessness he gathered courage.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought to myself," he said, "that here, at least, was a refuge: here
+was a man who loved you, and was ready to give you his home and his
+name, and show the world that he loved you in spite of all. Here was a
+chance for you, I thought, to show that you had not given your heart
+where it was not wanted; that you were not that pitiable object, a woman
+scorned. But you refused me. So then I took the law into my own hands.
+Was I so very wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and she suddenly burst out into wild hysterical sobs and
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go home," she said, between her sobs. "I will give you my answer
+then.... I will not forget! I will not be thoughtless and foolish any
+more.... But let me go home first: I must go home. I cannot stay here
+alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot go home, Kitty," said Hugo, modulating his voice to one of
+extreme softness and sweetness. He knelt before her, and took both her
+hands in his. "You left Mrs. Baxter's yesterday afternoon&mdash;to meet me,
+you said. Where have you been since then?&mdash;that will be the first
+question. You cannot go home without me now: what would the world say?
+Don't you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter what the world says? My father would know that it
+was all right," said Kitty, helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Would your father take you in?" Hugo whispered. "Would he not rather
+say that you must have planned it all, that you were not to be trusted,
+that you had better have married me when I asked you? For, if you leave
+this house before you are my wife, Kitty, I shall not ask you again to
+marry me. Are you so simple as not to know why? You would be
+compromised: that is all. You need not have obliged me to tell you so."</p>
+
+<p>She wrenched her hands away from him and put them before her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see it all now," she moaned. "I am trapped&mdash;trapped. But I will
+not marry you. I will die rather. Oh, Rupert, Rupert! why do you not
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>And then she fell into a fit of hysterical shrieking, succeeded by a
+swoon, from which Hugo found some difficulty in recovering her. He was
+obliged to call the nurse to his aid, and the nurse and the kitchen-maid
+between them carried the girl upstairs and placed her on the bed. Here
+Kitty came to herself by degrees, but it was thought well to leave the
+kitchen-maid, Elsie, beside her for some time, for as soon as she was
+left alone the hysterical symptoms reappeared. She saw Hugo no more that
+day, but on the following morning, when she sat pale and listless over
+the fire in her sitting-room, he reappeared. He spoke to her gently, but
+she gave him no answer. She looked at him with blank, languid eyes, and
+said not a word. He was almost frightened at her passivity. He thought
+that he had perhaps over-strained matters: that he had sent her out of
+her mind. But he did not lose hope. Kitty, with weakened powers of body
+and mind, would still be to him the woman that he loved, and that he had
+set his heart upon winning for his wife.</p>
+
+<p>That day passed, and the next, with no change in her condition. Hugo
+began to grow impatient. He resolved to try stronger measures.</p>
+
+<p>But stronger measures were not necessary. On the fifth day, he came to
+her at eleven o'clock in the morning, with a curious smile upon his
+lips. He had an opera-glass in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I have something to show you, Kitty," he said to her.</p>
+
+<p>He led her to the window, and directed her attention to a distant point
+in the view where a few yards of the highroad could be discerned. "You
+see the road," he said. "Now look through the glass for a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>Languidly enough she did as he desired. The strong glass brought into
+her sight in a few moments two gentlemen on horseback. Kitty uttered a
+faint cry. It was her father and Mr. Colquhoun.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that we should see them in a minute or two," said Hugo,
+calmly. "They were here a quarter-of-an-hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Here! In this house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; making inquiries after you. I think I quite convinced them that I
+knew nothing about you. They apologised for the trouble they had given
+me, and went away."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father, father!" cried Kitty, stretching out her arms and sobbing
+wildly, as if she could make him hear: "Oh, father, come back! come
+back! Am I to die here and never see you again&mdash;never again?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugo said nothing more. He had no need. She wept herself into quietness,
+and then remained silent for a long time, with her head buried in her
+hands. He left her in this position, and did not return until the
+evening. And then she spoke to him in a voice which showed that her
+strength had deserted her, her will had been bent at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Do as you please," she said. "I will be your wife. I see no other way.
+But I hate you&mdash;I hate you&mdash;and I will never forgive you for what you
+have done as long as ever I live."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2>
+
+<h3>TOO LATE!</h3>
+
+
+<p>Rupert Vivian went to London with a fixed determination not to return to
+Strathleckie. He told himself that he had been thinking far too much of
+the whims and vagaries of a silly, pretty girl; and that it would be for
+his good to put such memories of her bright eyes, and vain, coquettish
+ways as remained to him, completely out of his mind. He did his best to
+carry out this resolution, but he was not very successful.</p>
+
+<p>He had some troubles of his own, and a good deal of business to
+transact; but the weeks did not pass very rapidly, although his time was
+so fully occupied. He began to be anxious to hear something of his
+friend, Percival Heron; he searched the newspapers for tidings of the
+<i>Arizona</i>, he called at Lloyd's to inquire after her; but a mystery
+seemed to hang over her fate. She had never reached Pernambuco&mdash;so much
+was certain! Had she gone to the bottom, carrying with her passengers
+and crew? And the <i>Falcon</i>, in which Brian had sailed&mdash;also reported
+missing&mdash;what had become of her?</p>
+
+<p>Rupert knew enough of Elizabeth Murray's story to think of her with
+anxiety&mdash;almost with tenderness&mdash;at this juncture. He knew of no reason
+why the marriage with Percival should not take place, for he had not
+heard a word about her special interest in Brian Luttrell; but he had
+been told of Brian's reappearance, and of the doubt cast upon his claim
+to the property. He was anxious, for Percival's sake as well as for
+hers, that the matter should be satisfactorily adjusted; and he felt a
+pang of dismay when he first learnt the doubt that hung over the fate of
+the <i>Arizona</i>.</p>
+
+<p>His anxiety led him one day to stroll with a friend into the office of a
+shipowner who had some connection with the <i>Arizona</i>. Here he found an
+old sailor telling a story to which the clerks and the chief himself
+were listening with evident interest. Vivian inquired who he was. The
+answer made him start. John Mason, of the good ship <i>Arizona</i>, which I
+saw with my own eyes go down in eight fathoms o' water off Rocas reef.
+Me and the mate got off in the boat, by a miracle, as you may say. All
+lost but us.</p>
+
+<p>And forthwith he told the story of the wreck&mdash;as far as he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian listened with painful eagerness, and sat for some little time in
+silence when the story was finished, with his hand shading his eyes.
+Then he rose up and addressed the man.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to go with me to Scotland," he said, abruptly. "I want you
+to tell this story to a lady. She was to have been married to the Mr.
+Heron of whom you speak as soon as he returned. Poor girl! if anything
+can make it easier for her, it will be to hear of poor Heron's courage
+in the hour of death."</p>
+
+<p>He set out that night, taking John Mason with him, and gleaning from him
+many details concerning Percival's popularity on board ship, details
+which he knew would be precious to the ears of his family by-and-bye.
+Mason was an honest fellow, and did not exaggerate, even when he saw
+that exaggeration would be welcome: but Percival had made himself
+remarked, as he generally did wherever he went, by his ready tongue and
+flow of animal spirits. Mason had many stories to tell of Mr. Heron's
+exploits, and he told them well.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian was anxious to see the Herons before any newspaper report should
+reach them; and he therefore hurried the seaman up to Strathleckie after
+a hasty breakfast at the hotel. But at Strathleckie, disappointment
+awaited him. Everybody was out&mdash;except the baby and the servants. The
+whole party had gone to spend a long day at the house of a friend: they
+would not be back till evening.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert was forced to resign himself to the delay. The man, Mason, was
+regaled in the servants' hall, and was there regarded as a kind of hero;
+but Vivian had no such distraction of mind. He had nothing to do: he had
+reasons of his own for neither walking out nor trying to read. He leaned
+back in an arm-chair, with his back to the light, and closed his eyes.
+From time to time he sighed heavily.</p>
+
+<p>He felt himself quite sufficiently at home to ask for anything that he
+wanted; and the glass of wine and biscuit which formed his luncheon were
+brought to him in the study, the room that seemed to him best fitted for
+the communication that he would have to make. He had been there for two
+or three hours, and the short winter day was already beginning to grow
+dim, when the door opened, and a footstep made itself heard upon the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>It was a woman's step. It paused, advanced, then paused again as if in
+doubt. Vivian rose from his chair, and held out both hands. "Kitty," he
+said. "Kitty, is it you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is I," she said. Her voice had lost its ring; there was a
+tonelessness about it which convinced Rupert that she had already heard
+what he had come to tell.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had gone with the others," he said, "but I am glad to
+find you here. I can tell you first&mdash;alone. I have sad news, Kitty. Why
+don't you come and shake hands with me, dear, as you always do? I want
+to have your little hand in mine while I tell you the story."</p>
+
+<p>He was standing near the arm-chair, from which he had risen, with his
+hand extended still. There was a look of appeal, almost a look of
+helplessness, about him, which Kitty did not altogether understand. She
+came forward and touched his hand very lightly, and then would have
+withdrawn it had his fingers not closed upon it with a firm, yet gentle
+grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I know what you have come to say," she answered, not struggling
+to draw her hand away, but surrendering it as if it were not worth while
+to consider such a trifle. "I read it all in the newspapers this
+morning. The others do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not tell them?" said Rupert, a little surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to tell them now."</p>
+
+<p>"You have been away? Ah, yes, I heard you talking about a visit to
+Edinburgh some time ago: you have been there, perhaps? I came to see
+your father&mdash;to see you all, so that you should not learn the story
+first from the newspapers, but I was too late to shield you, Kitty."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, with a weary sigh; "too late."</p>
+
+<p>"I have brought the man Mason with me. He will tell you a great deal
+more than you can read in the newspapers. Would you like to see him now?
+Or will you wait until your father comes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait, I think," said Kitty, very gently. "They will not be long
+now. Sit down, Mr. Vivian. I hope you have had all that you want."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, Kitty?" asked Vivian, with (for him) extraordinary
+abruptness. "Why have you taken away your hand, child? What have I
+done?"</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in trouble, Kitty. Can I not comfort you a little? I would give
+a great deal to be able to do it. But the day for that is gone by."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is gone by," echoed Kitty once more in the tones that never
+used to be so sad.</p>
+
+<p>"It is selfish to talk about myself when you have this great loss to
+bear," he pursued; "and yet I must tell you what has happened to me
+lately, so that you may understand what perhaps seems strange to you. Am
+I altered, Kitty? Do I look changed to your eyes in any way?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered, hesitatingly; "I think not. But people do not change
+very easily in appearance, do they? Whatever happens, they are the same.
+I am not at all altered, they tell me, since&mdash;since you were here."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you be?" said Rupert, vaguely touched, he knew not why, by
+the pathetic quality that had crept into her voice. "Even a great
+sorrow, like this one, does not change us in a single day. But I have
+had some weeks in which to think of my loss; small and personal though
+it may seem to you."</p>
+
+<p>"What loss?" said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it no loss to think that I shall never see your face again, Kitty? I
+am blind."</p>
+
+<p>"Blind!" She said the word again, with a strange thrill in her voice.
+"Blind!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite, just yet," said Rupert, quietly, but with a resolute
+cheerfulness. "I know that you are standing there, and I can still grope
+my way amongst the tables and chairs in a room, without making many
+mistakes: but I cannot see your sweet eyes and mouth, Kitty, and I shall
+never look upon the purple hills again. Do you remember that we planned
+to climb Craig Vohr next summer for the sake of the fine view? Not much
+use my attempting it now, I am afraid&mdash;unless you went with me, and told
+me what you saw."</p>
+
+<p>She did not say a word. He waited a moment, but none came; and he could
+not see the tears that were in her eyes. Perhaps he divined that they
+were there.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been coming on for some time," he said, still in the cheerful
+tone which he had made himself adopt. "I was nearly certain of it when I
+was here in January; and since then I have seen some famous oculists,
+and spent a good deal of time in a dark room&mdash;with no very good result.
+Nothing can be done."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing? Absolutely nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing at all. I must bear it as other men have done. I am rather old
+to frame my life anew, and I shall never equal Mr. Fawcett in energy and
+power, though I think I shall take him as my model," said Rupert, with a
+rather sad smile, "but I must do my best, and I dare say I shall get
+used to it in time. Kitty, I thought&mdash;somehow&mdash;that I should like to
+hear you say that you were sorry.... And you have not said it yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," said Kitty, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>The tears were falling over her pale cheeks, but she did not turn away
+her head&mdash;why should she? He could not see.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been a fool," said Vivian, with the unusual energy of utterance
+which struck her as something new in him. "I am thirty-eight&mdash;twenty
+years older than you, Kitty&mdash;and I have missed half the happiness that I
+might have got out of my life, and squandered the other half. I will
+tell you what happened when I was a lad of one-and-twenty&mdash;before you
+were a year old, Kitty: think of that!&mdash;I fell in love with a woman some
+years older than myself. She was a barmaid. Can you fancy me now in love
+with a barmaid? I find it hard to imagine, myself. I married her, Kitty.
+Before we had been married six weeks I discovered that she drank. I was
+tied to a drunken, brawling, foul-mouthed woman of the lower class&mdash;for
+life. At least I thought it was for life."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and asked with peculiar gentleness:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Am I telling you this at a wrong time? Shall I leave my story for
+another day? You are thinking of him, perhaps: I am not without thoughts
+of him, too, even in the story that I tell. Shall I stop, or shall I go
+on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, please. I want to hear. Yes, as well now as any other time. You
+married. What then?"</p>
+
+<p>Could it be Kitty who was speaking? Rupert scarcely recognised those
+broken, uneven tones. He went on slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"She left me at last. We agreed to separate. I saw her from time to
+time, and made her an allowance. She lived in one place: I in another.
+She died last year."</p>
+
+<p>"Last year?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in the autumn. You heard that I had gone into Wales to see a
+relation who was dying: that was my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Percival know?" asked Kitty, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I think very few persons knew. I wonder whether I ought to have
+told the world in general! I did not want to blazon forth my shame."</p>
+
+<p>For a little time they both were silent. Then Rupert said, softly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"When she was dead, I remembered the little girl whom I used to know in
+Gower-street; and I said to myself that I would find her out."</p>
+
+<p>"You found her changed," said Kitty, with a sob.</p>
+
+<p>"Very much changed outwardly; but with the same loving heart at the
+core. Kitty, I was unjust to you: I have come back to offer reparation."</p>
+
+<p>"For what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For that injustice, dear. When I went away from Strathleckie in
+January, I was angry and vexed with you. I thought that you were
+throwing yourself away in promising to marry Hugo Luttrell&mdash;" then, as
+Kitty made a sudden gesture&mdash;"oh, I know I had no right to interfere. I
+was wrong, quite wrong. I must confess to you now, Kitty, that I thought
+you a vain, frivolous, little creature; and it was not until I began to
+think over what I had said to you and what you had said to me, that I
+saw clearly, as I lay in my darkened room, how unjust I had been to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"You were not unjust," said Kitty, hurriedly; "and I was wrong. I did
+not tell you the truth; I let you suppose that I was engaged to Hugo
+when I was not. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You were not engaged to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I may say what I should have said weeks ago if I had not thought
+that you had promised to marry him?"</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot make much difference what you say now," said Kitty, heavily.
+"It is too late."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it is. I cannot ask any woman&mdash;especially any girl of your
+age&mdash;to share the burden of my infirmity."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that. Anyone would be proud to share such a burden&mdash;to be of
+the least help to you&mdash;but I mean&mdash;you have not heard&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She could not go on. If he had seen her face, he might have guessed more
+quickly what she meant. But he could not see; and her voice, broken as
+it was, told him only that she was agitated by some strong emotion&mdash;he
+knew not of what kind. He rose and stood beside her, as if he did not
+like to sit while she was standing. Even at that moment she was struck
+by the absence of his old airs of superiority; his blindness seemed to
+have given him back the dependence and simplicity of much earlier days.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you mean that you are not free," he said. "And even if you
+had been free, my dear, it is not at all likely that I should have had a
+chance. There are certain to be many wooers of a girl possessed of your
+fresh sweetness and innocent gaiety. I wished only to say to you that I
+have been punished for any harsh words of mine, by finding out that I
+could not forget your face for a day, for an hour. I will not say that I
+cannot live without you; but I will say that life would have the charm
+that it had in the days of my youth, if I could have hoped that you,
+Kitty, would have been my wife."</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint melancholy in the last few words that went to Kitty's
+heart. Rupert heard her sob, and immediately put out his hand with the
+uncertain action of a man who cannot see.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty!" he said, ruefully, "I did not mean to make you cry, dear. Don't
+grieve. There are obstacles on both sides now. I am a blind, helpless
+old fellow; and you are going to be married. Child, what does this
+mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Unable to speak, she had seized his hand and guided it to the finger on
+which she wore a plain gold ring. He felt it: he felt her hand, and then
+he asked a question.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you married already, Kitty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"To whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Hugo Luttrell." And then she sank down almost at his feet, sobbing,
+and her hot tears fell upon the hand which she pressed impulsively to
+her lips. "Oh, forgive me! forgive me!" she cried. "Indeed, I did not
+know what to do. I was very wicked and foolish. And now I am miserable.
+I shall be miserable all my life."</p>
+
+<p>These vague self-accusations conveyed no very clear idea to Vivian's
+mind; but he was conscious of a sharp sting of pain at the thought that
+she was not happy in her marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know. I would not have spoken as I did if I had known," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I know you would not; and yet I could not tell you. You will hear
+all about it from the others. I cannot bear to tell you. And
+yet&mdash;yet&mdash;don't think me quite so foolish, quite so wrong as they will
+say that I have been. They do not know all. I cannot tell them all. I
+was driven into it&mdash;and now I have to bear the punishment. My whole life
+is a punishment. I am miserable."</p>
+
+<p>"Life can never be a mere punishment, if it is rightly led," said
+Vivian, in a low tone. "It is, at any rate, full of duties and they will
+bring happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"To some, perhaps; not to me," said Kitty, raising herself from her
+kneeling posture and drying her eyes. "I have no duties but to look nice
+and make myself agreeable."</p>
+
+<p>"You will find duties if you look for them. There is your husband's
+happiness, to begin with&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My husband," exclaimed Kitty, in a tone of passionate contempt that
+startled him. But they could say no more, for at that moment the
+carriage came up to the door, and, from the voices in the hall, it was
+plain that the family had returned.</p>
+
+<p>A great hush fell upon those merry voices when Mr. Vivian's errand was
+made known. Mrs. Heron, who was really fond of Percival, was
+inconsolable, and retired to her own room with the little boys and the
+baby to weep for him in peace. Mr. Heron, Kitty, and Elizabeth remained
+with Rupert in the study, listening to the short account which he gave
+of the wreck of the <i>Arizona</i>, as he had learnt it from Mason's lips.
+And then it was proposed that Mason should be summoned to tell his own
+story.</p>
+
+<p>Mason's eyes rested at once upon Elizabeth with a look of respectful
+admiration. He told his story with a rough, plain eloquence which more
+than once brought tears to the listeners' eyes; and he dwelt at some
+length on the presence of mind and cheery courage which Mr. Heron had
+shown during the few minutes between the striking of the ship and her
+going down. "Just as bold as a lion, ladies and gentlemen; helping every
+poor soul along, and never thinking of himself. They told fine tales of
+one of the men we took aboard from the <i>Falcon</i>; but Mr. Heron beat him
+and all of us, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You took on board someone from the <i>Falcon</i>?" said Elizabeth, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, three men that were picked up in an open boat, where they
+had been for five days and nights; the <i>Falcon</i> having been burnt to the
+water's edge, and very few of the crew saved."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth's hands clasped themselves a little more tightly, but she
+suffered no sign of emotion to escape her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember the names of the men saved from the <i>Falcon</i>?" she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"There was Jackson," said the sailor, slowly; "and there was Fall; and
+there was a steerage passenger&mdash;seems to me his name was Smith, but I
+can't rec'llect exackly."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not Stretton?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it warn't no name like that, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Then they are both lost," said Elizabeth, rising up with a deadly calm
+in her fixed eyes and white face; "both lost in the great, wild sea. We
+shall see them no more&mdash;no more." She paused, and then added in a much
+lower voice, as if speaking to herself: "I shall go to them, but they
+will not return to me."</p>
+
+<p>Her strength seemed to give way. She walked a few steps unsteadily,
+threw up her hands as if to save herself, and without a word and without
+a cry, fell in a dead faint to the ground.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A MERE CHANCE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Vivian went back to London on the following morning, taking Mason with
+him. He had heard what made him anxious to leave Strathleckie before any
+accidental meeting with Hugo Luttrell should take place. The story told
+of Kitty's marriage was that she had eloped with Hugo; and Mr. Heron, in
+talking the matter over with his son's friend, declared that an
+elopement had been not only disgraceful, but utterly unnecessary, since
+he should never have thought of opposing the marriage. He had been
+exceedingly angry at first; and now, although he received Kitty at
+Strathleckie, he treated her with great coldness, and absolutely refused
+to speak to Hugo at all.</p>
+
+<p>In a man of Mr. Heron's easy temperament, these manifestations of anger
+were very strong; and Vivian felt even a little surprised that he took
+the matter so much to heart. He himself was not convinced that the whole
+truth of the story had been told: he was certain, at any rate, that Hugo
+Luttrell had dragged Kitty's name through the mire in a most
+unjustifiable way, and he felt a strong desire to wreak vengeance upon
+him. For Kitty's sake, therefore, it was better that he should keep out
+of the way: he did not want to quarrel with her husband, and he knew
+that Hugo would not be sorry to find a cause of dispute with him.</p>
+
+<p>He could not abandon the hope of some further news of the <i>Arizona</i> and
+the <i>Falcon</i>. He questioned Mason repeatedly concerning the shipwrecked
+men who had been taken on board but he obtained little information. And
+yet he could not be content. It became a regular thing for Vivian to be
+seen, day after day, in the shipowners' offices, at Lloyd's, at the
+docks, asking eagerly for news, or, more frequently, turning his
+sightless eyes and anxious face from one desk to another, as the
+careless comments of the clerks upon his errand fell upon his ear.
+Sometimes his secretary came with him: sometimes, but, more seldom, a
+lady. For Angela was living with him now, and she was as anxious about
+Brian as he was concerning Percival.</p>
+
+<p>He had been making these inquiries one day, and had turned away with his
+hand upon Angela's arm, when a burly, red-faced man, with a short, brown
+beard, whom Angela had seen once or twice before in the office,
+followed, and addressed himself to Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon: should like to speak to you for a moment, sir, if agreeable
+to the lady," he said, touching his cap. "You were asking about the
+<i>Arizona</i>, wrecked off the Rocas Reef, were you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was," said Vivian, quickly. "Have you any news? Have any
+survivors of the crew returned?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't say I know of any, save John Mason and Terry, the mate," said the
+man, shaking his head. He had a bluff, good-natured manner, which Angela
+did not dislike; but it seemed somewhat to repel her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have no news," he began in a rather distant tone; but the man
+interrupted him with a genial laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got no news, sir, but I've got a suggestion, if you'll allow me to
+make it. No concern of mine, of course, but I heard that you had friends
+aboard the <i>Arizona</i>, and I took an interest in that vessel because she
+came to grief at a place which has been the destruction of many a fine
+ship, and where I was once wrecked myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You! And how did you escape?" said Angela, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Swam ashore, ma'am," said the man, touching his cap. Then, with a shy
+sort of smile, he added:&mdash;"What I did, others may have done, for
+certain."</p>
+
+<p>"You swam to the reef?" asked Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>"First to the reef and then to the island, sir. There's two islands
+inside the reef forming the breakwater. More than once the same thing
+has happened. Men had been there before me, and had been fetched away by
+passing ships, and men may be there now for aught we know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rupert!" said Angela, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"How long were you on the island then?" asked Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>"About three weeks, sir. But I have heard of the crew of a ship being
+there for as many months&mdash;and more. You have to take your chance. I was
+lucky. I'm always pretty lucky, for the matter of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it be easy to land on the island?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's an opening big enough for boats in the reef. It ain't a very
+easy matter to swim the distance. I was only thinking, when I heard you
+asking questions, that it was just possible that some of the crew and
+passengers might have got ashore, after all, as I did, and turn up when
+you're least expecting it. It's a chance, anyway. Good morning, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," said Vivian; "would you mind giving me your name and
+address?"</p>
+
+<p>The man's name was Somers: he was the captain of a small trading vessel,
+and was likely to be in London for some weeks.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you have anything more to ask me, sir," he said, "I shall be
+pleased to come and answer any of your inquiries at your own house, if
+you wish. It's a long tramp for you to come my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Vivian. "If it is not troubling you too much, I think
+I had better come to you. Your time is valuable, no doubt, and mine is
+not."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find me in between three and five almost any time," said Captain
+Somers, and with these words they parted.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert fell into a brown study as soon as the captain had left them, and
+Angela did not interrupt the current of his thoughts. Presently he
+said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of face had that man, Angela?"</p>
+
+<p>"A very honest face, I think," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"He seemed honest. But one can tell so much from a man's face that does
+not come out in his manner. This is the sort of interview that makes me
+feel what a useless log I am."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not think that, Rupert."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do think it. I wish I could find something to do&mdash;something that
+would take me out of myself and these purely personal troubles of mine.
+At my age a man certainly ought to have a career. But what am I talking
+about? No career is open to me now." And then he sighed; and she knew
+without being told that he was thinking of his dead wife and of Kitty
+Heron, as well as of his blindness.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little he had told her the whole story; or rather she had
+pieced it together from fragments&mdash;stray words and sentences that he let
+fall; for Rupert was never very ready to make confidences. But at
+present he was glad of her quiet sympathy; and during the past few weeks
+she had learnt more about her brother than he had ever allowed her to
+learn before. But she never alluded to what he called his "purely
+personal troubles" unless he first made a remark about them of his own
+accord; and he very seldom indulged himself by referring to them.</p>
+
+<p>He had not informed the Herons of a fact that was of some importance to
+him at this time. He had never been without fair means of his own; but
+it had recently happened that a distant relative died and left him a
+large fortune. He talked at first to Angela about purchasing the old
+house in Devonshire, which had been sold in the later years of his
+father's life; but during the last few weeks he had not mentioned this
+project, and she almost thought that he had given it up.</p>
+
+<p>One result of this accession of wealth was that he took a pleasant house
+in Kensington, where he and his sister spent their days together. He had
+a young man to act as his secretary and as a companion in expeditions
+which would have been beyond Angela's strength; and on his return from
+the docks, where he met Captain Somers, he seemed to have a good deal to
+say to this young fellow. He sent him out on an errand which took up a
+good deal of time. Angela guessed that he was making inquiries about
+Captain Somers. And she was right.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian went next day to the address which the sea-captain had given him;
+and he took with him his secretary, Mr. Fane. They found Captain Somers
+at home, in a neat little room for which he looked too big; a room
+furnished like the cabin of a ship, and decorated with the various
+things usually seen in a seaman's dwelling&mdash;some emu's eggs, a lump of
+brain coral, baskets of tamarind seeds, and bunches of blackened
+seaweed. There were maps and charts on the table, and to one of these
+Captain Somers directed his guest's attention.</p>
+
+<p>"There, sir," he said. "There's the Rocas Reef; off Pernambuco, as you
+see. That's the point where the <i>Arizona</i> struck, I'm pretty sure of
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Show it to my friend, Mr. Fane," said Vivian, gently pushing the chart
+away from him. "I can't see. I'm blind."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord!" ejaculated the captain. Then, after an instant of astonished
+silence, "One would never have guessed it. I'm sure I beg your pardon,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?" said Vivian, smiling. "I am glad to hear that I don't look
+like a blind man. And now tell me about your shipwreck on the Rocas
+Reef."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Somers launched at once into his story. He gave a very graphic
+description of the island, and of the days that he had spent upon it;
+and he wound up by saying that he had known of two parties of
+shipwrecked mariners who had made their way to the place, and that, in
+his opinion, there was no reason why there should not be a third.</p>
+
+<p>"But, mind you, sir," he said, "it's only a strong man and a good
+swimmer that would have any chance. There wasn't one of us that escaped
+but could swim like a fish. Was your friend a good swimmer, do you
+happen to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Remarkably good."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, then, he had a chance; you know, after all, the chance is very
+small."</p>
+
+<p>"But you think," said Vivian, deliberately, "that possibly there are now
+men on that island, waiting for a ship to come and take them off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," said the captain, thrusting his hands into the pockets of
+his pea-jacket, and settling himself deep into his wooden arm-chair,
+"it's just a possibility."</p>
+
+<p>"Do ships ever call at the island?"</p>
+
+<p>"They give it as wide a berth as they can, sir. Still, if it was a fine,
+clear day, and a vessel passed within reasonable distance, the
+castaways, if there were any, might make a signal. The smoke from a fire
+can be seen a good way off. Unfortunately, the reef lies low. That's
+what makes it dangerous."</p>
+
+<p>Vivian sat brooding over this information for some minutes. The captain
+watched him curiously, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's only fair to remind you, sir, that even if some of the men did get
+safe to the island, there's no certainty that your friend would be
+amongst them. In fact, it's ten to one that any of them got to land; and
+it's a hundred to one that your friend is there. It would need a good
+deal of pluck, and strength, and skill, too, to save himself in that
+way, or else a deal of lack. I had the luck," said Captain Somers,
+modestly, "but I own it's unusual."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about the luck," said Vivian, "but if pluck, and strength,
+and skill could save a man under those circumstances, I think my friend
+Heron had a good chance."</p>
+
+<p>They had some more conversation, and then Vivian took his leave. He did
+not talk much when he reached the street, and throughout the rest of the
+day he was decidedly absent-minded and thoughtful. Angela forebore to
+question him, but she saw that something lay upon his mind, and she
+became anxious to hear what it was. Mr. Fane preserved a discreet
+silence. It was not until after dinner that Rupert seemed to awake to a
+consciousness of his unwonted silence and abstraction.</p>
+
+<p>The servants had withdrawn. A shaded lamp threw a circle of brilliance
+upon the table, and brought out its distinctive features with singular
+distinctness against a background of olive-green wall and velvet
+curtain. Its covering of glossy white damask, its ornaments of Venetian
+glass, the delicate yet vivid colours of the hothouse flowers and fruit
+in the dishes, the gem-like tints of the wines, the very texture and the
+hues of the Bulgarian embroidery upon the d'oyleys, formed a study in
+colour which an artist would have loved to paint. The faces and figures
+of the persons present harmonised well enough with the artistic
+surroundings. Angela's pale, spiritual loveliness was not impaired by
+the sombreness of her garments; she almost always wore black now, but it
+was black velvet, and she had a knot of violets in her bosom. Rupert's
+musing face, with its high-bred look of distinction, was turned
+thoughtfully to the fire. Arthur Fane had the sleek, fair head, straight
+features, and good-humouredly intelligent expression, characteristic of
+a very pleasant type of young Englishman. The beautiful deerhound which
+sat with its long nose on Rupert's knee, and its melancholy eyes lifted
+affectionately from time to time to Rupert's face, was a not unworthy
+addition to the group.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian spoke at last with a smile. "I am very unsociable to-night," he
+said, tuning his face to the place where he knew Angela sat. "I have
+been making a decision."</p>
+
+<p>Fane looked up sharply; Angela said "Yes?" in an inquiring tone.</p>
+
+<p>But Rupert did not at once mention the nature of his decision. He began
+to repeat Captain Somer's story; he told her what kind of a place the
+Rocas Reef was like; he even begged Fane to fetch an atlas from the
+study and show her the spot where the <i>Arizona</i> had been wrecked.</p>
+
+<p>"You must please not mention this matter to the Herons when you are
+writing, you know, Angela," he continued, "or to Miss Murray. It is a
+mere chance&mdash;the smallest chance in the world&mdash;and it would not be fair
+to excite their hopes."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is a chance, is it not, Rupert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, it is a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Then can nothing be done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think something must be done," said he, quietly. There was a purpose
+in his tone, a hopeful light in his face, which she could not but
+remark.</p>
+
+<p>"What will you do, Rupert?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think, dear," he said, smiling, "that the easiest plan would be for
+me to go out to the Rocas Reef myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You, Rupert!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I, myself. That is if Fane will go with me."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted," said Fane, whose grey eyes danced with pleasure
+at the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"You must take me, too," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>It was Rupert's turn now to ejaculate. "You, Angela! My dear child, you
+are joking."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not joking at all. You would be much more comfortable if I went,
+too. And I think that Aunt Alice would go with us, if we asked her. Why
+not? You want to travel, and I have nothing to keep me in England. Let
+us go together."</p>
+
+<p>Rupert smiled. "I want to lose no time," he said. "I must travel fast."</p>
+
+<p>"I am fond of travelling. And I shall be so lonely while you are away."</p>
+
+<p>That argument was a strong one. Rupert conceded the point. Angela should
+go with him on condition that Aunt Alice&mdash;usually known as Mrs.
+Norman&mdash;should go too. They would travel with all reasonable swiftness,
+and if&mdash;as was to be feared&mdash;their expedition should prove unsuccessful,
+they could loiter a little as they came back, and make themselves
+acquainted with various pleasant and interesting places on their way.
+They spent the rest of the evening in discussing their route.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert was rich enough to carry out his whim&mdash;if whim it could be
+called&mdash;in the pleasantest and speediest way. Before long he was the
+temporary owner of a fine little schooner, in which he proposed to scour
+the seas in search of his missing friend. To his great satisfaction,
+Captain Somers consented to act as his skipper: a crew of picked men was
+obtained; and the world in general received the information that Mr.
+Vivian and his sister were going on a yachting expedition for the good
+of their health, and would probably not return to England for many
+months.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert's spirits rose perceptibly at the prospect of the voyage. He was
+tired of inaction, and welcomed the opportunity of a complete change. He
+had not much hope of finding Percival, but he was resolved, at any rate,
+to explore the Rocas Reef, and discover any existing traces of the
+<i>Arizona</i>. "And who knows but what there may be some other poor fellows
+on that desolate reef?" he said to his secretary, Fane, who was wild
+with impatience to set off. "We can but go and see. If we are
+unsuccessful we will go round Cape Horn and up to Fiji. I always had a
+hankering after those lovely Pacific islands. If you are going down Pall
+Mall, Fane, you might step into Harrison's and order those books by Miss
+Bird and Miss Gordon Cumming&mdash;you know the ones I mean. They will make
+capital reading on board."</p>
+
+<p>Angela had been making some purchases in Kensington one afternoon, and
+was thinking that it was time to return home, when she came unexpectedly
+face to face with an acquaintance. It was Elizabeth Murray.</p>
+
+<p>Angela knew her slightly, but had always liked her. A great wave of
+sympathy rose in her heart as her eyes rested upon the face of a woman
+who had, perhaps, lost her lover, even as Angela had lost hers.
+Elizabeth's face had parted with its beautiful bloom; it was pale and
+worn, and the eyelids looked red and heavy, as though from sleepless
+nights and many tears. The two clasped hands warmly. Angela's lips
+quivered, and her eyes filled with tears, but Elizabeth's face was
+rigidly set in an enforced quietude.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad I have met you," she said. "I was wondering where to find
+you. I did not know your address."</p>
+
+<p>"Come and see me now," said Angela, by a sudden impulse.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. I will."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes' walking brought them to the old house which Rupert had
+lately taken. It was in a state of some confusion: boxes stood in the
+passages, parcels were lying about the floor. Angela coloured a little
+as she saw Elizabeth's eye fall on some of these.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going away," she said, hurriedly, "on a sea-voyage. The doctors
+have been recommending it to Rupert for some time."</p>
+
+<p>This was strictly true.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you were going away," said Elizabeth, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing beside a table in the drawing-room: her left hand
+rested upon it, her eyes were fixed absently upon the muff which she
+carried in her right hand. Angela asked her to sit down. But Elizabeth
+did not seem to hear. She began to speak with a nervous tremor in her
+voice which made Angela feel nervous, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard a strange thing," she said. "I have heard it rumoured that
+you are going to cross the Atlantic&mdash;that you mean to visit the Rocas
+Reef. Tell me, please, if it is true or not."</p>
+
+<p>Angela did not know what to say.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going to South America," she murmured, with a somewhat
+embarrassed smile. "We may pass the Rocas Reef."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, speak to me frankly," said Elizabeth, putting down her muff and
+moving forward with a slight gesture of supplication. "Mr. Vivian was
+Percival's friend. Does he really mean to go and look for him? Do they
+think that some of the crew and passengers may be living upon the island
+still?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is just a chance," said Angela, quoting her brother. "He means to
+go and see. We did not tell you: we were afraid you might be
+too&mdash;too&mdash;hopeful."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not be too hopeful. I will be prudent and calm. But you must
+tell me all about it. Do you really think there is any chance? Oh, you
+are happy: you can go and see for yourself, and I can do
+nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;nothing! And it was my doing that he went!"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice sank into a low moan. She clasped her hands together and wrung
+them a little beneath her cloak. Angela, looking at her with wet,
+sympathetic eyes, had a sudden inspiration. She held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Come with us," she said, gently. "Why should you not? We will take care
+of you. What would I not have given to do something for the man I loved!
+If Mr. Heron is living, you shall help us to find him."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth's face turned white. "I cannot go with you under false
+pretences," she said. "You will think me base&mdash;wicked; you cannot think
+too ill of me&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;It was not Percival Heron whom I loved. And he
+knew it&mdash;and loved me still. You&mdash;you&mdash;have been true in your heart to
+your promised husband; but I&mdash;in my heart&mdash;was false."</p>
+
+<p>She covered her face and burst into passionate weeping as she spoke. But
+Angela did not hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>"If that is the case," she said, very softly and sweetly, "if you are
+anxious to repair any wrong that you have done to him, help us to find
+him now. You have nothing to keep you in England! My brother will say
+what I say&mdash;Come with us."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FOUND.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"As far as I can calculate," said Percival, "this is the end of March.
+Confound it! I wish I had some tobacco."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't begin to wish," remarked Brian, lazily, "or you will never end."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't your philosophy. I am wishing all day long&mdash;and for nothing
+so much as the sight of a sail on yonder horizon."</p>
+
+<p>In justice to Percival, it must be observed that he never spoke in this
+way except when alone with Brian, and very seldom even then. There had
+been a marked change in their relations to each other since the night
+when Heron had made what he called "his confession." They had never
+again mentioned the subject then discussed, but there had been a steady
+growth of friendship and confidence between them. If it was ever
+interrupted, it was only when Percival had now and then a moody fit,
+during which he would keep a sort of sullen silence. Brian respected
+these moods, and thought that he understood them. But he found in the
+end that he had been as much mistaken about their origin as Percival had
+once been mistaken in attributing motives of a mercenary kind to him.
+And when the cloud passed, Percival would be friendlier and more genial
+than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Heron, presently, "if a vessel saw our signal&mdash;and
+hove to, we should have to send out one of our ingeniously constructed
+small boats and state our case. Jackson and I would be the best men for
+the purpose, I suppose. Then they would send for the rest of you. A good
+opportunity for leaving you behind, Brian, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"A hermit's life would not suit me badly," said Brian, who was lying on
+his back on a patch of sand in the shade, with a hat of cocoa-nut fibre
+tilted over his eyes. "I think I could easily let you go back without
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not do that, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"It is foolish, perhaps, to let our minds dwell on the future," said
+Brian, after a moment's pause; "but the more I think of it the more I
+wonder that your mind is so set upon dragging me back to England. You
+know that I don't want to go. You know that that business could be
+settled just as well without me as with me; better, in fact. I shall
+have to stultify myself; to repudiate my own actions; to write myself
+down an ass."</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you," said Percival, with an ironical smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly; but I don't see what you gain by it."</p>
+
+<p>"Love of dominion, my dear fellow. I want to drag you as a captive at my
+chariot-wheels, of course. We will have a military band at the Dunmuir
+Station, and it shall play 'See the conquering hero comes.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I don't mind assisting at your triumph."</p>
+
+<p>"Hum! My triumph? Wait till that day arrives, and we shall see. What's
+that fellow making frantic signs about from that biggest palm-tree? It
+looks as if&mdash;&mdash;Good Heavens, Brian, it's a sail!"</p>
+
+<p>He dashed the net that he had been making to the ground, and rushed off
+at the top of his speed to the place where a pile of wood and seaweed
+had been heaped to make a bonfire. Brian followed with almost equal
+swiftness. The others had already collected at the spot, and in a few
+minutes a thin, wavering line of smoke rose up into the air, and flashes
+of fire began to creep amongst the carefully-dried fuel.</p>
+
+<p>For a time they all watched the sail in silence. Others had been seen
+before; others had faded away into the blue distance, and left their
+hearts sick and sore. Would this one vanish like the others? Was their
+column of smoke, now rising thick and black towards the cloudless sky,
+big enough to be seen by the man on the look-out? And, if it was
+seen&mdash;what then? Why, even then, they might choose to avoid that
+perilous reef, and pass it by.</p>
+
+<p>"It's coming nearer," said Jackson, at last, in a loud whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked at Percival, then turned away and fixed his eyes once more
+upon the distant sail. There was something in Percival's face which he
+hardly cared to see. The veins on his forehead were swollen, his lips
+were nearly bitten through, his eyes were strained with that passionate
+longing for deliverance to which he seldom gave vent in words. If this
+vessel brought no succour, Brian trembled to think of the force of the
+reaction from that intense desire. For himself, Brian had little care:
+he was astonished to find how slightly the suspense of waiting told upon
+him, except for others' sake. He had no prospects: no future. But
+Percival had everything in the world that heart could wish for: home,
+happiness, success. It was natural that his impatience should have
+something in it that was fierce and bitter. If this ship failed them,
+the disappointment would almost break his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"They've seen us," Jackson repeated, hoarsely. "They're making for the
+island. Thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be too sure," said Percival, in a harsh voice. Then, in a few
+minutes, he added:&mdash;"The boats had better be seen to. I think you are
+right."</p>
+
+<p>Fenwick and the boy went off immediately to the place where the two
+little boats were moored&mdash;boats which they had all laboured to
+manufacture out of driftwood and rusty iron nails. Jackson remained to
+throw fuel on the fire, and Percival, suddenly laying a hand on Brian's
+arm, led him apart and turned his back upon the glittering expanse of
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm as bad as a woman," he said, tightening his grasp till it seemed
+like one of steel on Brian's arm. "It turns me sick to look. Do you
+think it is coming or not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is coming. Don't break down at the last moment, Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not such a fool," said Percival, gruffly. "But&mdash;good God! think of
+the months we have gone through. I say," with a sudden and complete
+change of tone, "you're not going to back out of our arrangements, are
+you? You're coming to England with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish it."</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish it."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I will come."</p>
+
+<p>They clasped hands for a moment in silence and then separated. Brian
+went to the hut to collect the scanty belongings of the party: Percival
+made his way down to the boats.</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistake about the vessel now. She was making steadily for
+the Rocas Reef. About a mile-and-a-half from it she hove to; and a boat
+was lowered. By this time Heron and Jackson had rowed to the one gap in
+the barrier reef that surrounded the island; they met the ship's boat
+half-way between the reef and the ship itself. A young, fair,
+pleasant-looking man in the ship's boat attracted Percival's attention
+at once: he seemed to be in some position of authority, although it was
+evident that he was not one of the ship's officers. As soon as they were
+within speaking distance of each other, questions and answers were
+exchanged. Percival was struck by the brightness of the young man's face
+as he gave the information required. After a little parley, the boat
+went its way to the schooner; the officer in charge declaring with an
+odd smile that the castaways had better make known their condition to
+the captain, before returning for the others on the island. Percival was
+in no mood to demur: he and Jackson stepped into the ship's boat, and
+their own tiny craft was towed behind it as a curiosity in boatbuilding.</p>
+
+<p>There was a good deal of crowding at the ship's sides to look at the
+new-comers: and, as Percival sprang on board, with a sense of almost
+overpowering relief and joy at the sight of his country-men, a broad,
+red-faced man with a black beard, came up, and, as soon as he learnt his
+name, shook him heartily by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>"So you're Mr. Heron," he said, giving him an oddly interested and
+approving look. "Well, sir, we've come a good way for you, and I hope
+you're glad to see us. You'll find some acquaintances of yours below."</p>
+
+<p>"Acquaintances?" said Heron, staring.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one, at any rate," said the captain, pushing forward a seaman
+who was standing at his elbow, with a broad grin upon his face.
+"Remember Mason of the <i>Arizona</i>, Mr. Heron? Ah, well! if you go into
+the cabin, you'll find someone you remember better." And then the
+captain laughed, and Heron saw a smile on the faces round him, which
+confused him a little, and made him fancy that something was going
+wrong. But he had not much time for reflection. He was half-led,
+half-pushed, down the companion ladder, but in such a good-humoured,
+friendly way that he did not know how to resist; and then the
+fair-haired young man opened a door and said, "He's here, sir!" in a
+tone of triumph, which was certainly not ill bestowed. And then there
+arose some sort of confusion, and Percival heard familiar voices, and
+felt that his hand was half-shaken off, and that somebody had kissed his
+cheek.</p>
+
+<p>But for the moment he saw no one but Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>They had known for some little time that their quest had been
+successful, that Percival was safe. They had seen him as he rowed from
+the island, as he entered the other boat, as he set his foot upon the
+schooner; and then they had withdrawn into the cabin, so that they might
+not meet him under the inquisitive, if friendly, eyes of the captain and
+his crew. Perhaps they had hardly made enough allowance for the shock of
+surprise and joy which their appearance was certain to cause Percival.
+His illness and long residence on the island had weakened his physical
+force. In almost the first time in his life he felt a sensation of
+faintness, which made him turn pale and stagger, as he recognised the
+faces of the two persons whom he loved better than any other in the
+world&mdash;his friend and his betrothed. A thought of Brian, too, embittered
+this his first meeting with Elizabeth. Only one person noticed that
+momentary paleness and unsteadiness of step; it was natural that Angela,
+a sympathetic spectator in the background, should see more than even
+Elizabeth, whose eyes were dim with emotions which she could not have
+defined.</p>
+
+<p>Explanations were hurriedly given, or deferred till a future time. It
+was proposed that the whole party should go on shore, as everyone was
+anxious to see the place where Percival had spent so long a time. Even
+Rupert talked gleefully of "seeing" it. Percival had never seen his
+friend so exultant, so triumphant. And then, without knowing exactly how
+it happened, he found himself for a moment alone with Elizabeth, with
+whom he had hitherto exchanged only a hurried, word or two of greeting.
+But her hand was still in his when he turned to speak to her alone.</p>
+
+<p>"How beautiful you look!" he said. "If you knew what it is to me to see
+you again, Elizabeth!"</p>
+
+<p>But it was not pure joy that sparkled in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Percival! I am glad to see you, so glad to know that you are
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"You were sorry when you heard&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, "sorry is not the word. I could not forgive myself! I
+can never thank God enough that we have found you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said he, in a low tone. "I think you are glad that I am safe. I
+don't deserve that you should be, but&mdash;&mdash;Well, never mind all that.
+Won't you give me one kiss, Elizabeth, my darling?" Then, in a more
+cheerful voice, "Come and see this wretched hole in which we have passed
+the last four months. It is an interesting place."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Percival, it is just like yourself to say so!" said Elizabeth,
+smiling, but with tearful eyes. "And how pale and thin you are."</p>
+
+<p>"You should have seen me a couple of months ago. I was a skeleton then,"
+said Percival, as he opened the door for her. "A shell-fish diet is not
+one which I should recommend to an invalid."</p>
+
+<p>He was conscious of a question in her eyes which he did not mean to
+answer: he even found time to whisper a word to Jackson before they got
+into the boat. "Not a word about Luttrell," he whispered. "Say it was a
+steerage passenger who gave his name as Mackay. And don't say anything
+unless they ask you point blank." Jackson stared, but nodded an assent.
+He had a good deal of faith in Mr. Heron's wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Pale and gaunt as Percival undoubtedly was, Elizabeth thought that he
+looked very like his old self, as he stood frowning and biting his
+moustache in the bows, and looking shorewards as though he were afraid
+of something that he might see. This familiar expression&mdash;something
+between anxiety and annoyance&mdash;made Elizabeth smile to herself in spite
+of her agitation. Percival was not much changed.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting near him, and she longed to ask the question which was
+uppermost in her mind; but it was a difficult question to ask, seeing
+that he did not mention Brian Luttrell of his own accord. With an effort
+that made her turn pale, she bent forward at last, and said, fixing her
+eyes steadily upon him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What news of the <i>Falcon</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her and hesitated, "Don't ask me now," he said, averting
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent. He heard a little sigh, and glancing at her again, saw a
+look of heart-sick resignation in her white face which told him that she
+thought Brian must be dead. He felt a pang of compunction, and a desire
+to tell her all, then he restrained himself. "She will not have to wait
+long," he thought, with a rather bitter smile.</p>
+
+<p>When they landed, he quietly took her hand in his, and led her a little
+apart from the others. Angela and Rupert, Mrs. Norman and Mr. Fane,
+were, however, close behind. They followed Percival's footsteps as he
+showed the way to one of the huts which the men had occupied during
+their stay on the island. When they were near it, he turned and spoke to
+Rupert and Angela. "I am obliged to be very rude," he said. "Let me go
+into the hut with Miss Murray first of all. There is something I want
+her to see&mdash;something I must say. I will come back directly."</p>
+
+<p>They saw that he was agitated, although he tried to speak as if nothing
+were the matter; and they drew back, respecting his emotion. As for
+Elizabeth, she waited: she could do nothing else. A little while ago she
+had said to herself that Percival was not changed: she thought
+differently now. He was changed; and yet she did not know how or why.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at the door, and turned to her. He still held her hand in a
+close, warm grasp. "Don't be startled," he said, gently. "I am going to
+surprise you very much. There is a friend of mine here: remember, I say,
+a friend of mine. He was saved from the wreck of the <i>Falcon</i>&mdash;do you
+understand whom I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>And then he opened the door. "Brian," he said, in a voice that seemed
+strange to Elizabeth, because of its measured quietness, "come here."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth was trembling from head to foot. "Don't be afraid, child," he
+said, with more of an approach to his old tones and looks than she had
+yet heard or seen; "nobody will hurt you. Here he is&mdash;and I think I may
+fairly say that I have kept my word."</p>
+
+<p>Brian Luttrell had been collecting the possessions which he thought that
+his comrades might wish to take with them as mementoes of their stay
+upon the island. He sprang up quickly at the first sound of Percival's
+voice, and then stood, as if turned to stone, looking at Elizabeth. The
+healthy colour faded from his face, leaving it nearly as pale as hers;
+he set his lips, and Percival could see that he clenched his hands.
+Elizabeth did not look up at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this all the thanks I get," said Percival, in an ironical tone, "for
+introducing one cousin to another? I have taken a good deal of trouble
+for you both; I think that now you have met you might be civil to each
+other."</p>
+
+<p>There was a perceptible pause. Elizabeth was the first to recover
+herself. She made a step forward and put out her hand, which Brian
+instantly took in his. But neither of them spoke. Percival, with his
+back against the door, and his arms folded, observed them with a
+slightly humorous smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You are surprised," he said to Elizabeth, "and I don't wonder. The last
+thing you expected was to find me on good terms with Brian Luttrell, was
+it not? And we have been on fairly good terms, have we not, Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>"He saved my life twice," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"And he nursed me through a fever," interposed Percival, with a huge
+laugh, "so we are quits. Oh, we have both played our parts in a highly
+creditable manner as long as we were on a desert island; but the island
+is inhabited now, and I think it's time that we returned to the habits
+of civilised life. As a matter of fact, I consider Brian Luttrell my
+deadliest enemy."</p>
+
+<p>"You do nothing of the kind," said Brian, unable to repress a smile,
+although it hardly altered the look of pain that had come into his eyes.
+"Don't believe him, Miss Murray: I am glad to say that we are good
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Idyllic simplicity! Don't you know that I did but dissemble, like the
+man in the play? How can we be friends when we both&mdash;&mdash;" he stopped
+short, looked at Elizabeth, and then back at Brian, and finished his
+sentence&mdash;"both want to marry the same woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heron, you are going too far. Don't make these allusions; they are
+unsuitable," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth had winced as if she had received a blow. Percival laughed in
+their faces.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of taste, isn't it?" he said. "I ought to ignore the circumstances
+under which we meet, and talk as if we were in a drawing-room. I'm not
+such a fool. Look here, you two: let us talk sensibly. I have surely a
+right to demand something of you both, have I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, indeed," they answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, for Heaven's sake, speak the truth! Here have I been chasing
+Brian half over the world, getting myself shipwrecked and thrown on
+desert islands, and what not, all because I wanted you, Elizabeth, to
+acknowledge that I was not such a mean and selfish wretch as you
+concluded me to be. Have I cleared myself? or, perhaps I should say,
+have I expiated the crime that I did commit?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was no crime," said Brian, warmly. "No one who knows you could think
+you capable of meanness."</p>
+
+<p>"I was not speaking to you, Mr. Luttrell," said Percival. "You're not in
+it at all. I am having a little conversation with my cousin. Well,
+Elizabeth, what do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you have been most kind and generous," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I may retire with a good character? And, to come back to what I
+said before, as we both wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not generous now, Heron," said Brian, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No! But I will be&mdash;sometime. You seem very anxious to repudiate all
+desire to marry my cousin. Have you changed your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Percival, I will not listen. Have you brought me here only to insult
+me?" cried Elizabeth, passionately.</p>
+
+<p>Percival smiled. "I am waiting for Brian Luttrell's answer," he replied,
+looking at him steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what answer you expect," said Brian, "unless you want me
+to say the truth&mdash;that I loved Elizabeth Murray with all my heart and
+soul, before I knew that she had promised to be your wife; and that as I
+loved her then, I love her still. It is my misfortune&mdash;or my
+privilege&mdash;to do so; I scarcely know which. And for that reason, as you
+know, I have earnestly wished never to cross her path again, lest I
+should trouble her or distress her in any way."</p>
+
+<p>"Fate has been against you," said Percival, grimly. "You seem destined
+to cross her path in one way or another&mdash;and mine, too. It is time all
+this came to an end. You think I am saying disagreeable things for the
+mere pleasure of saying them; but it is not so. I will beg your pardon
+afterwards if I hurt you. What I want to say is this: I withdraw all my
+claims, if I had any, to Miss Murray's hand. I release her from any
+promise that she ever made to me. She is as free to choose as&mdash;as you
+are yourself, or as I am. We have both offered ourselves to Miss Murray
+at different times. It is for her to say which of us she prefers."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence. Elizabeth's face changed from white to red, from
+red to white again. At last she looked up, and looked at Brian. He came
+to her side at once, as if he saw that she wanted help.</p>
+
+<p>"Percival," he said, "you are very generous in act: be generous in word
+as well. Let the matter rest. It is cruel to ask her to decide."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that she has decided," said Percival, with a sharp,
+short laugh, "seeing that she lets you speak for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Percival, forgive me," murmured Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>A spasm of pain seemed to pass over his face as he turned towards her:
+then it grew strangely gentle. "My dear," he said, "I never pretended to
+be anything but a very selfish fellow; but if I can secure your
+happiness, I shall feel that I have accomplished one, at least, of the
+ends of my life. There!"&mdash;with a laugh: "I think that's well said.
+Haven't I known for months that I should be obliged to give you up to
+Luttrell in the long run? And the worst is, that I haven't the
+satisfaction of hating him through it all, because we have managed&mdash;I
+don't know how&mdash;to fight our way to a sort of friendship. Eh, Brian? And
+now I'll leave you to yourself for a few minutes, and you can settle the
+matter while you have the opportunity."</p>
+
+<p>He walked out of the hut before they could protest. But the smile died
+away from his lips when he had left them, and was succeeded for a few
+minutes by an expression of intense pain. He stood and looked at the
+sea; perhaps it was the dazzling reflection of the sun upon the waters
+which made his eyes so dim. After five minutes' reflection, he shrugged
+his shoulders and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one great consolation in returning to civilised life," he said,
+strolling up to the group of friends as they returned from a walk round
+the island. "That is&mdash;tobacco! Fate can't do much harm to the man who
+smokes." And he accepted a cigarette from Mr. Fane. "Now," he continued,
+"fortune may buffet me as she pleases; I do not care. I have not smoked
+for four months. Consequently I am as happy as a king."</p>
+
+<p>He smoked with evident satisfaction; but Angela thought that she
+discerned a look of trouble upon his face.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>ANGELA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"So it was not you after all, sir," said Captain Somers, surveying Heron
+with some surprise, and then glancing towards a secluded corner, where
+Brian and Elizabeth were absorbed in an apparently very interesting
+conversation. "Well, I must have made a mistake. I didn't know anything
+about the other gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we kept him dark," returned Percival, lightly. "My cousin didn't
+want her affairs talked about. They make a nice couple, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir, they do. Mr. Vivian made a mistake, too, perhaps," said
+Captain Somers, with some curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"We're all liable to make mistakes at times," replied Percival, smiling.
+"I don't think they've made one now, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>And then he left Captain Somers, and seated himself on a chair, which
+happened to be close to the one occupied by Angela Vivian. Brian and
+Elizabeth were still within the range of his vision: although he was not
+watching them he was perfectly conscious of their movements. He saw
+Brian take Elizabeth's hand in his and raise it gently to his lips. The
+two did not know that they could be seen. Percival stifled a sigh, and
+twisted his chair round a little, so as to turn his back to them. This
+manoeuvre brought him face to face with Angela.</p>
+
+<p>"They look very happy and comfortable over there, don't they?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I think they will be very happy," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't wonder." He moved restlessly in his chair, and looked
+towards the sea. "You know the story," he said. "I suppose you mean she
+will be happier with him than with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"She loves him," said Angela scarcely above her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," he answered, dryly. Then, after a pause&mdash;"Love is a
+mighty queer matter, it seems to me. Here have I been trying to win her
+heart for the last five years, and, just when I think I am succeeding,
+in steps a fellow whom she has never seen before, who does in a month or
+two what I failed to do in years."</p>
+
+<p>"They have a great deal to thank you for," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>Percival shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a mere delusion of their generous hearts," he said. "I've been a
+selfish brute: that's all."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed easier to him, after this, to discuss the matter with Angela
+from every possible point of view. He told her more than he had told
+anyone in the world of the secret workings of his mind; she alone had
+any true idea of what it had cost him to give Elizabeth up. He took a
+great deal of pleasure in dissecting his own character, and it soothed
+and flattered him that she should listen with so much interest. He was
+always in a better temper when he had been talking to Angela. He did
+most of the talking&mdash;it must be owned that he liked to hear himself
+talk&mdash;and she made a perfect listener. He, in turn, amused and
+interested her very much. She had never come across a man of his type
+before. His trenchant criticisms of literature, his keen delight in
+politics, his lively argumentativeness, were charming to her. He had
+always had the knack of quarrelling with Elizabeth, even when he was
+most devoted to her; but he did not quarrel with Angela. She quieted
+him; he hardly knew how to be irritable in her presence.</p>
+
+<p>The story of Kitty's marriage excited his deepest ire. He was indignant
+with his sister, disgusted with Hugo Luttrell. He himself told it, with
+some rather strong expressions of anger, to Brian, who listened in
+perfect silence.</p>
+
+<p>"What can you say for your cousin?" said Percival, turning upon him
+fiercely. "What sort of a fellow is he? Do you consider him fit to marry
+my sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," Brian answered. "I am sorry to say so, but I don't think
+Hugo is in the least to be relied on. I have been fond of him, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A screw loose somewhere, is there? I thought as much."</p>
+
+<p>"He may do better now that he is married," said Brian. But he felt that
+it was poor comfort.</p>
+
+<p>They went straight back to England, and it was curious to observe how
+naturally and continuously a certain division of the party was always
+taking place. Brian and Elizabeth were, of course, a great deal
+together; it seemed equally inevitable that Percival should pair off
+with Angela, and that Mrs. Norman, Rupert Vivian, and Mr. Fane should be
+left to entertain each other.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the last day of the voyage that Brian sought out Percival and
+took him by the arm. "Look here, Heron," he said. "I have never thanked
+you for what you have done for me."</p>
+
+<p>Percival was smoking. He took his pipe out of his mouth, and said,
+"Don't," very curtly, and then replaced the meerschaum, and puffed at it
+energetically.</p>
+
+<p>"But I must."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop," said Heron. "Don't go on till you've heard me speak." He took
+his pipe in his hand and knocked it meditatively against the bulwarks.
+"There's a great deal that might be said on both sides. Do you think
+that any of us have acted wisely or rightly throughout this business?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I have. I think Elizabeth has."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Elizabeth. Well, she's a woman. Women have a strange sort of
+pleasure in acting properly. But I don't think that even your Elizabeth
+was quite perfect. Now, don't knock me down; she's my cousin, and I knew
+her years before you did. She's your cousin, too, by the way; but that
+does not signify. What I wanted to say was this:&mdash;We have all been more
+or less idiotic. I made a confounded fool of myself once or twice, and,
+begging your pardon, Brian, I think you did, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I did," said Brian, reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth will take care of you now, and see that you have your due
+complement of commonsense," said Percival. "Well, look here. I've been
+wrong and I've been right at times; so have you. I have something to
+thank you for, and perhaps you feel the same sort of thing towards me. I
+think it is a pity to make a sort of profit and loss calculation as to
+which of the two has been the more wronged, or has the more need to be
+grateful. Let bygones be bygones. I want you and Elizabeth to promise me
+not to speak or think of those old days again. We can't be friends if
+you do. I was very hard on you both sometimes: and&mdash;well, you know the
+rest. If you forgive, you must also forget."</p>
+
+<p>Brian looked at him for a moment. "Upon my word, Percival," he said,
+warmly, "I can't imagine why she did not prefer you to me. You're quite
+the most large-hearted man I ever knew."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, that's too strong," said Heron, carelessly. "You're a cut
+above me, you know, in every way. You will suit her admirably. As for
+me, I'm a rough, coarse sort of a fellow&mdash;a newspaper correspondent, a
+useful literary hack&mdash;that's all. I never quite understood until&mdash;until
+lately&mdash;what my position was in the eyes of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I thought you considered your profession a very high one," said
+Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"So I do. Only I'm at the bottom of the tree, and I want to be at the
+top."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. A little doubt was visible upon Brian's face:
+Percival saw it and understood.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one thing you needn't do," he said, with a sort of haughty
+abruptness. "Don't offer me help of any kind. I won't stand it. I don't
+want charity. If I could be glad that I was not going to marry
+Elizabeth, it would be because she is a rich woman. I wonder,
+by-the-bye, what Dino Vasari is going to do."</p>
+
+<p>They had not heard of Dino's death when Percival left England.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were you," Percival went on, "I should not stand on ceremony. I
+should get a special licence in London and marry her at once. You'll
+have a bother about settlements and provisions and compromises without
+end, if you don't."</p>
+
+<p>Brian smiled, and even coloured a little at the proposition. "I could
+not ask her to do it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll ask her," said Percival with his inimitable <i>sang-froid</i>. "In
+the very nick of time, here she comes. Mademoiselle, I was talking about
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth smiled. The colour had come back to her cheeks, the brightness
+to her eyes. She was the incarnation of splendid health and happiness.
+Percival looked from her to Brian, remarking silently the gravity and
+nobleness of his expression and the singular refinement of his features,
+which could be seen so much more plainly, now that he had returned to
+his old fashion of wearing a moustache and small pointed beard, instead
+of the disfiguring mass of hair with which he had once striven to
+disguise his face. Percival was clean shaven, except for the heavy,
+black moustache, which he fingered as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You are my children by adoption," he said, cheerfully, "and I am going
+to speak to you as a grandfather might. Elizabeth, my opinion is, that
+if you want to avoid vexatious delays, you had better get married to
+this gentleman here before you present yourself in Scotland at all. You
+have no idea how much it would simplify matters. Brian won't suggest
+such a thing; he is afraid you will think that he wants to make ducks
+and drakes of your money&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"His money," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, his or yours, or that Italian fellow's&mdash;I don't see that it
+matters much. Why don't you stop in London, get a special licence, and
+be married from Vivian's house? I know he would be delighted."</p>
+
+<p>"It is easy to make the suggestion," said Brian, "but perhaps Elizabeth
+would not like such haste."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do what you like," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me congratulate you," remarked Percival to Brian; "you are about to
+marry that treasure amongst wives&mdash;a woman who tries to please you and
+not herself. Well, I have broken the ice, settle the matter as you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Percival, don't go," said Elizabeth. But he laughed, shook his
+head, and left them to themselves.</p>
+
+<p>As usual he went to Angela, and allowed himself to look as gloomy as he
+chose. She asked him what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been playing the heavy father, and giving away the bride," he
+said. And then he told her what he had advised.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to have it over," she said, looking at him with her soft,
+serious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the truth, I believe I do."</p>
+
+<p>"It is hard on you, now."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," said Percival, taking a seat beside her. "I ought not to
+mind. If I were Luttrell, I probably should glory in self-sacrifice, and
+say I didn't mind. Unfortunately I do. But nothing will drive me to say
+that it is hard. All's fair in love and war. Brian has proved himself
+the better man."</p>
+
+<p>"Not the stronger man," said Angela, almost involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>"You think not? I don't think I have been strong! I have been wretchedly
+weak sometimes. Ah, there they come; they have settled it between them.
+They look bright, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>Angela made no answer, she felt a little indignant with Brian and
+Elizabeth for looking bright. It was decidedly inconsiderate towards
+Percival.</p>
+
+<p>But Percival made no show of his wound to anybody except Angela. He
+seemed heartily glad when he heard that Elizabeth had consented to the
+speedy marriage in London, he was as cheerful in manner as usual, he
+held his head high, and ate and drank and laughed in his accustomed way.
+Even Elizabeth was deceived, and thought he was cured of his love for
+her. But the restless gleam of his eye and the dark fold between his
+brow, in spite of his merriment, told a different tale to the two who
+understood him best&mdash;Brian and Angela.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage took place from Rupert's house, according to Percival's
+suggestion. It was a quiet wedding, and the guests were very various in
+quality. Mr. Heron came from Scotland for the occasion, Rupert and his
+sister, Mrs. Norman, Captain Somers and the two seamen&mdash;Jackson and
+Mason, were all present. Percival alone did not come. He had said
+nothing about his intention of staying away, but sent a note of excuse
+at the last moment. He had resumed his newspaper work, and a sudden call
+upon him required instant attention. Elizabeth was deeply disappointed.
+She had looked upon his presence at her wedding as the last assurance of
+his forgiveness, and she and Brian both felt that something was lacking
+from their felicity when Percival did not come.</p>
+
+<p>They started for Scotland as soon as the wedding was over, and it was
+not until the following week that Brian received a bulky letter which
+had been waiting for him at the place where he had directed Dino Vasari
+to address his letters. He opened it eagerly, expecting to find a long
+letter from Dino himself. He took out only the announcement of his
+death.</p>
+
+<p>There was, however, a very lengthy document from Padre Cristoforo, which
+Brian and Elizabeth read with burning hearts and tearful or indignant
+eyes. In this letter, Padre Cristoforo set forth, calmly and
+dispassionately, what he knew of poor Dino's story, and there were many
+things in it which Brian learnt now for the first time. But the Prior
+said nothing about Elizabeth. When Brian had read the letter, he leaned
+over the table, and took his wife's hand as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever see him?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw a young man with Mr. Colquhoun on the day when he came to
+Netherglen. But I hardly remember his face."</p>
+
+<p>"You would have loved him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>"And now, what shall we do? Now we are on our guard against Hugo. To
+think that any man should be so vile!"</p>
+
+<p>"Our poor little Kitty!" murmured Elizabeth. "Surely she has found out
+her mistake. I could never understand that marriage. She looked very
+unhappy afterwards. But we were all unhappy then."</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten what happiness was like until I saw your face again,"
+said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"But about Hugo, love?" she said, replying to his glance with a smile,
+which showed that for her at least the fullest earthly bliss had been
+attained. "Can we not go to Netherglen and send him away? I do not like
+to think that he is with your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I," said Brian. "Let us go and see."</p>
+
+<p>That very evening they set out for Netherglen.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Percival Heron was calling at the Vivians' house in
+Kensington. Angela, who had hitherto seen him in very rough and ready
+costume, was a little surprised when he appeared one afternoon attired
+in clothes of the most faultless cut, and looking as handsome and idle
+as if he had never done anything in his life but pay morning calls. He
+had come, perhaps by accident, perhaps by design, on the day when she
+was at home to visitors from three to six; and, although she had not
+been very long in London, her drawing-room was crowded with visitors.
+The story of the expedition to the Rocas Reef had made a sensation in
+London society; everybody was anxious to see the heroes and heroines of
+the story, and Percival soon found himself as much a centre of
+attraction as Angela herself.</p>
+
+<p>She watched him keenly, wondering whether he would be annoyed by the
+attention he was receiving; but his face wore a tranquil smile of
+amusement which reassured her. Once he made a movement as if to go, but
+she managed to say to him in passing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do not go yet unless you are obliged. Rupert is out with Mr. Fane."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not come to see Rupert," said Percival, with a laugh in his
+brilliant eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I have something to say to you, too," she went on seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Then I will wait."</p>
+
+<p>He had to wait some time before the room was cleared of guests. When at
+last they found themselves alone, the day was closing in, and the wood
+fire cast strange flickering lights and shadows over the walls. The room
+was full of the scent of violets and white hyacinths. Percival leaned
+back in an easy chair, with an air of luxurious enjoyment. And yet he
+was not quite as much at his ease as he looked.</p>
+
+<p>"You had something to say to me," he began, boldly. "I know perfectly
+well what it is. You think I ought to have come to the wedding, and you
+want to tell me so."</p>
+
+<p>"Your conscience seems to say more than I should venture to," said
+Angela, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I had an engagement, as I wrote in my letter."</p>
+
+<p>"One that could not be broken?"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the truth, I was not in an amiable mood. If I had come I should
+probably have hurt their feelings more than by staying away. I should
+have said something savage. Well,"&mdash;as he saw her lips move&mdash;"what were
+you going to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something very severe."</p>
+
+<p>"Say it by all means."</p>
+
+<p>"That you are trying to excuse your own selfishness by the plea of want
+of self-control. The excuse is worse than the action itself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very selfish, I know," said Percival, complacently. "I'm not at
+all ashamed of it. Why should I not consult my own comfort?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you add one drop to the bitterness of Brian's cup?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like that," said Percival, in an ironical tone. "It shows the extent
+of a woman's sense of justice. I beg your pardon, Miss Vivian, for
+saying so. But in my opinion Brian is a lucky fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What do I forget? This business about his identity is all happily over,
+and he is married to the woman of his choice. I wish I had half his
+luck!"</p>
+
+<p>"You have forgotten, Mr. Heron," said Angela, in a tone that showed how
+deeply she was moved, "that Brian has had a great sorrow&mdash;a great loss.
+I do not think life can ever be the same to him again&mdash;as it can never
+be the same to me&mdash;since&mdash;Richard&mdash;died."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice sank and faltered. For an instant there was a silence, in
+which Percival felt shocked and embarrassed at his own want of thought.
+He had forgotten. He had been thinking solely of Brian's relations with
+Elizabeth. It had not occurred to him for a long time that Angela had
+once been on the point of marriage with the man&mdash;the brother&mdash;whom Brian
+Luttrell had shot dead at Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>He said, "I beg your pardon," in a constrained, reluctant voice, and sat
+in silence, feeling that he ought to go, yet not liking to tear himself
+away. For the first time he was struck by the beauty of Angela's
+patience. How she must have suffered! he thought to himself, as he
+remembered her sisterly care of Brian, her silence about her own great
+loss, her quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And he had prosed by the
+hour to this woman about his own griefs and love-troubles! What an
+egotist she must think him! What a fool! Percival felt hot about the
+ears with self-contempt. He rose to go, feeling that he should not
+venture to present himself to her again very easily. He did not even
+like to say that he was ashamed of his lapse of memory.</p>
+
+<p>Angela rose, too. She would have spoken sooner, but she had been
+swallowing down the rising tears. She very seldom mentioned Richard
+Luttrell now.</p>
+
+<p>They were standing, still silent, in this attitude of expectancy&mdash;each
+thinking that the other would speak first&mdash;when the door opened, and Mr.
+Vivian came in. Percival hailed his arrival with a feeling between
+impatience and relief. Rupert wanted him to stay, but he said that he
+must go at once; business called him away.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a letter for you, Angela," said Vivian. "It was on the
+hall-table. Fane gave it me. I hope my sister has been scolding you for
+not coming to the wedding, Heron. It went off very well, but we wanted
+you. Have you heard the latest news from Egypt?"</p>
+
+<p>And then they launched into a discussion of politics, from which they
+were presently diverted by a remark made by Angela as she laid her hand
+gently on Rupert's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," she said. "I think I had better show both you and Mr. Heron
+this letter. It is from Mrs. Hugo Luttrell."</p>
+
+<p>"From Kitty!" said the brother. Rupert's face changed a little, but he
+did not speak. Angela handed the letter first to Percival.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Vivian</span>," Kitty's letter began, "I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I want to know whether you will give a message for me to Mr. Brian
+Luttrell. Mrs. Luttrell is a little better, and is able to say one or
+two words. She calls for 'Brian' almost incessantly. I should be so glad
+if he would come, and Elizabeth too. If you know where they are, will
+you tell them so? But they must not say that I have written to you. And
+please do not answer this letter. If they cannot come, could not you? It
+is asking a great deal, I know; but Mrs. Luttrell would be happier if
+you were with her, and I should be so glad, too. I have nobody here whom
+I can trust, and I do not know what to do. I think you would help me if
+you knew all.&mdash;Yours very truly,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Catherine Luttrell.</span>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Percival read it through aloud, then laid it down in silence. "What does
+she mean?" he said, perplexedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It means that there is something wrong," answered Rupert. "Are your
+people at Strathleckie now, Percival?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, they are in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you go down? You have not seen her since her marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hum. I haven't time."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will go."</p>
+
+<p>"And I with you," said Angela, quickly. But Rupert shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, not you. We will write for Brian and Elizabeth. And, excuse
+me, Percival, but if your sister is in any difficulty, I think it would
+be only kind if you went to her assistance."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Heron," said Angela. "Do go. Do help her if you can."</p>
+
+<p>And this time Percival did not refuse.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>KITTY'S WARNING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"It's an odd thing," said Percival, with a puzzled look, "that Kitty
+won't see me."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't see you?" ejaculated Rupert.</p>
+
+<p>They had arrived at Dunmuir the previous day, and located themselves at
+the hotel. Arthur Fane had come with them, but he was at present in the
+smoking-room, and the two friends had their parlour to themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Sent word she was ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Through whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"A servant. A man whom I have seen with Luttrell several times. Stevens,
+they call him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see Hugo Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I heard his voice."</p>
+
+<p>"He was in the house then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I suppose he did not care to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are curiously unsuspicious for a man of your experience," said
+Vivian, resting his head on one hand with a sort of sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Percival started to his feet. "You think that it was a blind?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt of it. He does not want you to see your sister."</p>
+
+<p>"What for? Good Heavens! you don't mean to insinuate that he does not
+treat her well?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I don't mean to insinuate anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell me in plain English what you do mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't, Percival. I have vague suspicions, that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a love-match," said Percival, after a moment's pause. "They
+ought to be happy together."</p>
+
+<p>Rupert was silent a moment; then he said, in a low voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt whether it was a love-match exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"What in Heaven or earth do you mean?" said Percival, staring. "What
+else could it be?"</p>
+
+<p>But before Vivian could make any response, young Fane entered the room
+with the air of one who has had good news.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Colquhoun asks me to tell you that he has just had a letter from
+Mr. Brian Luttrell, sir. He is to meet Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell at the
+station at nine o'clock, but their arrival is not to be made generally
+known. Only hearing that you were here, he thought it better to let you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"They could not have got Angela's letter," said Rupert. "I wonder why
+they are coming. It is very opportune."</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun.
+I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me
+something about affairs at Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on
+his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his
+geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by
+surprise now."</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the
+pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. That's a compliment."</p>
+
+<p>"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous
+one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with
+you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his
+hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and
+resumed, in an airier tone than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't
+see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says
+that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you
+always wanted me to do that, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and
+swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in
+your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man,
+didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets
+and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your
+brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure
+childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when
+we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But
+you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."</p>
+
+<p>Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of
+great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad,
+but the defiant bitterness disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course,
+I've&mdash;I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I
+don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk.
+But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up
+for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering
+tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit,
+and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went
+away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a
+confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian
+had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly
+about Dunmuir till they came back.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to
+Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance,
+although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured
+by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see
+visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to
+drive away, baffled and impatient.</p>
+
+<p>"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running
+close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch
+look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very bright."</p>
+
+<p>"And the sky is clear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the
+north-west; we shall have rain to-night."</p>
+
+<p>They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating
+tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a
+little way behind us."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she
+young?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very young, very slight. She is close to us now," said Fane, as he
+checked his horse.</p>
+
+<p>Rupert bent forward with a look of eager expectation. He heard a
+footstep on the road; surely he knew it? He knew the voice well enough
+as it spoke his name.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vivian!"</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty!" he said, eagerly. Then, in a soberer tone: "I beg your pardon,
+Mrs. Luttrell, I have just been calling at Netherglen and heard that you
+were ill."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not ill, but I do not see visitors," said Kitty, in a constrained
+voice. "I wanted to speak to you; I saw you from the garden. I thought I
+should never make you hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you wait one moment until I get down from my high perch? Fane will
+help me; I feel rather helpless at present."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you turn back with me for a few minutes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>They walked for a few steps side by side, he with his hand resting on
+her arm for the sake of guidance. The soft spring breezes played upon
+their faces; the scent of wild flowers came to their nostrils, the song
+of building birds to their ears. But they noted none of these things.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian stopped short at last, and spoke authoritatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Kitty, what does this mean? Why can you not see your brother and
+me when we call upon you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My husband does not wish it," she said, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know." Then, in a more decided tone: "He likes to thwart my
+wishes, that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"That was why you warned Angela not to answer your letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Then, under her breath:&mdash;"I was afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my child, what are you afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>She uttered a short, stifled sob.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," said Rupert, "he would not hurt you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "perhaps not. I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>There was a dreariness in her tone which went to Rupert's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Take courage," he said. "Brian and Elizabeth will be in Dunmuir
+to-night. Shall they come to see you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" cried Kitty. "Let them come at once&mdash;at once, tell
+them. You will see them, will you not?" She had forgotten Rupert's
+blindness. "If they come, I shall be prevented from meeting them,
+perhaps; I know I shall not be allowed to talk to them alone. Tell Mr.
+Luttrell to come and live at Netherglen. Tell him to turn us out. I
+shall be thankful to him all my life if he turns us out. I want to go!"</p>
+
+<p>"You want to leave Netherglen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, as quick as possible. Tell him that Mrs. Luttrell wants
+him&mdash;that she is sorry for having been so harsh to him. I know it. I can
+see it in her eyes. I tell her everything that I hear about him, and I
+know she likes it. She is pleased that he has married Elizabeth. Tell
+him to come to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night?" said Rupert. He began to fear that her troubles had affected
+her brain.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to-night. Remember to tell him so. To-morrow may be too late. Now,
+go, go. He may come home at any moment; and if he saw you"&mdash;she caught
+her breath with a sob&mdash;"if he saw you here, I think that he would kill
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty, Kitty! It cannot be so bad as this."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, it is&mdash;and worse than you know," she said, bitterly. "Now let
+me lead you back. Thank you for coming. And tell Brian&mdash;be sure you tell
+Brian to come home to-night. It is his right, nobody can keep him out.
+But not alone. Tell him not to come alone."</p>
+
+<p>It was with these words ringing in his ears that Rupert was driven back
+to Dunmuir.</p>
+
+<p>Brian and his wife arrived about nine o'clock in the evening, as they
+had said in the letter which Mr. Colquhoun had received. Vivian, wrought
+up by this time to a high pitch of excitement, did not wait five minutes
+before pouring the whole of his story into Brian's ear. Brian's eyes
+flashed, his face looked stern as he listened to Kitty's message.</p>
+
+<p>"The hound!" he said. "The cur! I expected almost as much. I know now
+what I never dreamt of before. He is a cowardly villain, and I will
+expose him this very night."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember poor Kitty," said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I will spare her as much as possible, but I will not spare him. Do you
+know, Vivian, that he tried to murder Dino Vasari? There is not a
+blacker villain on the face of the earth. And to think that all this
+time my mother has been at his mercy!"</p>
+
+<p>"His mother!" ejaculated Mr. Colquhoun in Percival's ear, with a chuckle
+of extreme satisfaction, "I'm glad he's come back to that nomenclature.
+Blood's thicker than water; and I'll stand to it, as I always have done,
+that this Brian's the right one after all."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the only one there is, now," said Percival, "Vasari is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor laddie! Well, he was just too good for this wicked world," said
+the lawyer, with great cheerfulness, "and it would be a pity to grudge
+him to another. And what are you after now, Brian?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going up to Netherglen."</p>
+
+<p>"Without your dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do I care for dinner when my mother's life may be in danger?" said
+Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut! Why should it be in danger to-night of all nights in the
+year?" said Mr. Colquhoun, testily.</p>
+
+<p>"Why? Can you ask? Have you not told me yourself that my mother made a
+will before her illness, leaving all that she possessed to Hugo? Depend
+upon it, he is anxious to get Netherglen. When he hears that I have come
+back he will be afraid. He knows that I can expose him most thoroughly.
+He is quite capable of trying to put an end to my mother's life
+to-night. And that is what your sister meant."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't forget her warning. Don't go alone," said Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come with me, Percival," said Brian. "And you, Fane."</p>
+
+<p>"If Fane and Percival go, you must let me go, too," remarked Vivian, but
+Brian shook his head, and Elizabeth interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stay with us, Mr. Vivian? Do not leave Mr. Colquhoun and me
+alone."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not be left behind," said Mr. Colquhoun, smartly; "you may depend
+upon that, Mrs. Brian. You and Mr. Vivian must take care of my wife; but
+I shall go, because it strikes me that I shall be needed. Four of us,
+that'll fill the brougham. And we'll put the constable, Macpherson, on
+the box."</p>
+
+<p>"I must resign myself to be useless," said Vivian, with a smile which
+had some pain in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Useless, my dear fellow? We should never have been warned but for you,"
+answered Brian, giving him a warm grasp of the hand before he hurried
+off.</p>
+
+<p>In a very short time the carriage was ready. The gentlemen had hastily
+swallowed some refreshment, and were eager to start. Brian turned back
+for a moment to bid his wife farewell, and received a whispered caution
+with the kiss that she pressed upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Spare Kitty as much as you can, love. And take care of your dear self"</p>
+
+<p>Then they set out for Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>The drive was almost a silent one. Each member of the party was more or
+less absorbed in his own thoughts, and Brian's face wore a look of stern
+determination which seemed to impose quietude upon the others. It was he
+who took command of the expedition, as naturally as Percival had taken
+command of the sailors upon the Rocas Reef.</p>
+
+<p>"We will not drive up to the house," he said, as they came in sight of
+the white gates of Netherglen. "We should only be refused admittance. I
+have told the driver where to stop."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a blustering night," said Mr. Colquhoun.</p>
+
+<p>"All the better for us," replied Brian. "We are not so likely to be
+overheard."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you don't think that they would keep us out, do you, Brian, my
+lad? Hugo hasn't the right to do that, you know. He's never said me nay
+to my face as yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Depend upon it, he won't show," said Percival, contemptuously. "He'll
+pretend to be asleep, or away from home, or something of the sort."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that he will try to keep us out, if he can," said Brian,
+"and, therefore, I am not going to give him the chance. I think I can
+get into the house by a side door."</p>
+
+<p>The carriage had drawn up in the shade of some overhanging beech trees
+whilst they were speaking. The four men got out, and stood for a moment
+in the road. The night was a rough one, as Mr. Colquhoun had said; the
+wind blew in fierce but fitful gusts; the sky was covered with heavy,
+scurrying clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then the wind sent a great dash of rain into their faces,
+it seemed as if a tempest were preparing, and the elements were about to
+be let loose.</p>
+
+<p>"We are like thieves," said Heron, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't
+care for this style of work. I should walk boldly up to the door and
+give a thundering peal with the knocker."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know Hugo as well as I do," responded Brian.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank Heaven, no. Are you armed, Fane?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a stick," said Fane, with gusto.</p>
+
+<p>"And I've got a revolver. Now for the fray."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall not want arms of that kind," said Brian. "If you are ready,
+please follow me."</p>
+
+<p>He led the way through the gates and down the drive, then turned off at
+right angles and pursued his way along a narrow path, across which the
+wet laurels almost touched, and had to be pushed back. They reached at
+last the side entrance of which Brian had spoken. He tried the handle,
+and gently shook the door; but it did not move. He tried it a second
+time&mdash;with no result.</p>
+
+<p>"Locked!" said Percival, significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"That does not matter," responded Brian. "Look here; but do not speak."</p>
+
+<p>He felt in the darkness for one of the panels of the door. Evidently he
+knew that there was some hidden spring. The panel suddenly flew back,
+leaving a space of two feet square, through which it was easy for Brian
+to insert his hand and arm, draw back a bolt, and turn the key which had
+been left in the lock. It was a door which he and Richard had known of
+old. They had kept the secret, however, to themselves; and it was
+possible that Hugo had never learned it. Even Mr. Colquhoun uttered a
+faint inarticulate murmur of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>The door was open before them, but they were still standing outside in
+the wet shrubbery, their feet on the damp grass, the evergreens
+trickling water in their faces, when an unexpected sound fell upon their
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere, in another part of the building&mdash;probably in the front of the
+house&mdash;one of the upper windows was thrown violently open. Then a
+woman's voice, raised in shrill tones of fear or pain, rang out between
+the fitful gusts of wind and rain.</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Help! Help!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to lose. The four men threw caution to the winds, and
+dashed headlong into the winding passages of the dark old house.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>When Rupert Vivian drove away from Netherglen, Kitty stood for some time
+in the lane where they had been walking, and gazed after him with
+painful, anxious interest. The dog-cart was well out of sight before she
+turned, with a heavy sigh, preparing herself to walk back to the house.
+And then, for the first time, she became aware that her husband was
+standing at some little distance from her, and was coolly watching her,
+with folded arms and an evil smile upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been wondering how long you meant to stand there, watching
+Vivian drive away," he said, advancing slowly to meet her. "Did you ask
+him about his wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty thought of her conversation with Rupert at Strathleckie&mdash;a
+conversation of which she had kept Hugo in ignorance&mdash;and coloured
+vividly.</p>
+
+<p>"His wife is dead," she said, in a smothered tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, you did ask him?" said Hugo, looking at her. "Is that what he
+came to tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>Kitty did not reply. She had thrown a shawl over her head before coming
+out, and she stood drawing the edges of it closer across her bosom with
+nervous, twitching fingers and averted face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come out in that way?" queried her husband. "You look like
+a madwoman in that shawl. You looked more like one than ever when you
+ran after that dog-cart, waving your hands for Vivian to stop. He did
+not want to see you or to be forced into an interview."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have been watching me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I always watch you. Women are such fools that they require watching.
+What did you want to speak to Vivian about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not tell you," said Kitty, suddenly growing pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is something that you ought not to have said. I understand your
+ways by this time. Come here, close to me." She came like a frightened
+child. "Look at me, kiss me." She obeyed, after some faint show of
+reluctance. He put his arm round her and kissed her several times, on
+cheek and brow and lips. "You don't like that," he said, releasing her
+at last with a smile. "That is why I do it. You are mine now, remember,
+not Vivian's. Now tell me what you said to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" said Kitty, with a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>A change passed over Hugo's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is with Vivian and your brother?" he demanded "Has Brian Luttrell
+come back?"</p>
+
+<p>But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm,
+and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from
+him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen
+anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to
+himself. "I must finish my work to-night."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Kitty made her way to her own room, and was not surprised to find that
+in a few moments Hugo followed her thither. She was sitting in a low
+chair, striving to command her agitated thoughts, and school herself
+into some semblance of tranquility, when he entered. She fully expected
+that he would try again to force from her the history of her interview
+with Vivian, but he did nothing of the kind. He threw himself into a
+chair opposite to her, and looked at her in silence, while she tried her
+best not to see his face at all. Those long, lustrous eyes, that low
+brow and perfectly-modelled mouth and chin, had grown hideous in her
+sight.</p>
+
+<p>But when he spoke he took her completely by surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better begin to pack up your things," he said. "We shall go to
+the South of France either this week or next."</p>
+
+<p>"And leave Mrs. Luttrell?" breathed Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>His lips stretched themselves into something meant for a smile, but it
+was a very joyless smile.</p>
+
+<p>"And leave Mrs. Luttrell," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Hugo, what will people say?"</p>
+
+<p>"They won't find fault," he answered. "The matter will be simple enough
+when the time comes. Pack your boxes, and leave the rest to me."</p>
+
+<p>"She is much better, certainly," hesitated Kitty, "but I do not like
+leaving her to servants."</p>
+
+<p>"She is no better," said Hugo, rising, and turning a malevolent look
+upon her. "She is worse. Don't let me hear you say again that she is
+better. She is dying."</p>
+
+<p>With these words he left the room. Kitty leaned back in her chair, for
+she was seized with a fit of trembling that made her unable to rise or
+speak. Something in the tone of Hugo's speech had frightened her. She
+was unreasonably suspicious, perhaps, but she had developed a great fear
+of Hugo's evil designs. He had shown her plainly enough that he had no
+principle, no conscience, no sense of shame. And she feared for Mrs.
+Luttrell.</p>
+
+<p>Her fears did not go very far. She thought that Hugo was capable of
+sending away the nurse, or of depriving Mrs. Luttrell of care and
+comfort to such an extent as to shorten her life. She could not suspect
+Hugo of an intention to commit actual, flagrant crime. Yet some
+undefined terror of him had made her beg Vivian to tell Brian and his
+wife to come home as soon as possible. She did not know what might
+happen. She was afraid; and at any rate she wanted to secure her husband
+against temptation. He might thank her for it afterwards, perhaps,
+though Kitty did not think that he ever would.</p>
+
+<p>She went upstairs after dinner to sit with Mrs. Luttrell, as she usually
+did at that hour. The poor woman was perceptibly better. The look of
+recognition in her eyes was not so painfully beseeching as it had been
+hitherto; the hand which Kitty took in hers gently returned her
+pressure. She muttered the only word that her lips seemed able to
+speak:&mdash;"Brian! Brian!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is coming," said Kitty, bending her head so that her lips almost
+touched the withered cheek. "He is coming&mdash;coming soon."</p>
+
+<p>A wonderful light of satisfaction stole into the melancholy eyes. Again
+she pressed Kitty's hand. She was content.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse generally returned to Mrs. Luttrell's room after her supper;
+and Kitty waited for some time, wondering why she was so long in coming.
+She rang the bell at last and enquired for her. The maid replied that
+Mrs. Samson, the nurse, had been taken ill and had gone to bed. Kitty
+then asked for the housekeeper, and the maid went away to summon her.</p>
+
+<p>Again Kitty waited; but no housekeeper came.</p>
+
+<p>She was about to ring the bell a second time, when her husband entered
+the room. "What do you want with the housekeeper at this time of night?"
+he asked, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty explained. Hugo raised his eyebrows. "Oh, is that all?" he said.
+"Really, Kitty, you make too much fuss about my aunt. She will do well
+enough. I won't have poor old Shairp called up from her bed to sit here
+till morning."</p>
+
+<p>"But somebody must stay," said Kitty, whom her husband had drawn into
+the little dressing-room. "Mrs. Luttrell must not be left alone."</p>
+
+<p>"She shall not be left alone, my dear; I'll take care of that. I have
+seen Samson, hearing that she was ill, and find that it is only a fit of
+sickness, which is passing off. She will be here in half-an-hour; or, if
+not, Shairp can be called."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will stay here until one of them comes," said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>"You will do nothing of the kind. You will go to bed at once. It is ten
+o'clock, and I don't want you to spoil that charming complexion of yours
+by late hours." He spoke with a sort of sneer, but immediately passed
+his finger down her delicate cheek with a tenderly caressing gesture, as
+if to make up for the previous hardness of his tone. Kitty shrank away
+from him, but he only smiled and continued softly: "Those pretty eyes
+must not be dimmed by want of sleep. Go to bed, <i>ma belle</i>, and dream of
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me stay for a little while," entreated Kitty. "If Mrs. Samson comes
+in half-an-hour I shall not be tired. Just till then, Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, my little darling." His tone was growing quite playful, and
+he even imprinted a light kiss upon her cheek as he went on. "I will
+wait here myself until Samson comes, and if she is not better I will
+summon Mrs. Shairp. Will that not satisfy you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you stay?" said Kitty, in a whisper. A look of dread had
+come into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I not?" smiled Hugo. "Aunt Margaret likes to have me with
+her, and she is not likely to want anything just now. Run away, my fair
+Kitty. I will call you if I really need help."</p>
+
+<p>What did Kitty suspect? She turned white and suddenly put her arms round
+her husband's neck, bringing his beautiful dark face down to her own.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me stay," she murmured in his ear. "I am afraid. I don't know
+exactly what I am afraid of; but I want to stay. I can't leave her
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>He put her away from him almost roughly. A sinister look crossed his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a little fool: you always were," he said; fiercely. Then he
+tried to regain the old smoothness of tongue which so seldom failed him;
+but this time he found it difficult. "You are nervous," he said. "You
+have been sitting in a sick-room too long: I must not let you over-tire
+yourself. You will be better when we leave Netherglen. Go and dream of
+blue skies and sunny shores: we will see my native land together, Kitty,
+and forget this desert of a place. There, go now. I will take care of
+Aunt Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>He put her out at the door, still with the silky, caressing manner that
+she distrusted, still with the false smile stereotyped upon his face.
+Then he went back into the dressing-room and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty went to her own room, and changed her evening dress for a
+dressing-gown of soft, dark red cashmere which did not rustle as she
+moved. She was resolved against going to bed, at any rate until Hugo had
+left Mrs. Luttrell's room. She sat down and waited.</p>
+
+<p>The clock struck eleven. She could bear the suspense no longer. She went
+out into the passage and listened at the door of Mrs. Luttrell's room.
+Not a sound: not a movement to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>She stole away to the room which the nurse occupied. Mrs. Samson was
+lying on her bed, breathing heavily: she seemed to be in a sound sleep.
+Kitty shook her by the arm; but the woman only moaned and moved
+uneasily, then snored more stertorously than before. The thought crossed
+Kitty's mind that, perhaps, Hugo had not wanted Mrs. Samson to be awake.</p>
+
+<p>She made up her mind to go to the housekeeper's room. It was situated in
+that wing of the house which Kitty had once learnt to know only too
+well. For some reason or other Hugo had insisted lately upon the
+servants taking up their sleeping quarters in this wing; and although
+Mrs. Shairp, who had returned to Netherglen upon his marriage, protested
+that it was very inconvenient&mdash;"because no sound from the other side of
+the house could reach their ears"&mdash;(how well Kitty remembered her saying
+this!) yet even she had been obliged to give way to Hugo's will.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty went to the door that communicated with the wing. She turned the
+handle: it would not open. She shook it, and even knocked, but she dared
+not make much noise. It was not a door that could be fastened or
+unfastened from inside. Someone in the main part of the house,
+therefore, must necessarily have turned the key and taken it away. One
+thing was evident: the servants had been locked into their own rooms,
+and it was quite impossible for Mrs. Shairp to come to her mistress's
+room, unless the person who fastened the door came and unfastened it
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder that he did not lock me in," said Kitty to herself, wringing
+her little hands as she came hopelessly down the great staircase into
+the hall, and then up again to her own room. She had no doubt but that
+it was Hugo who had done this thing for some end of his own. "What does
+he mean? What is it that he does not want us to know?"</p>
+
+<p>She reached her own room as she asked this question of herself. The door
+resisted her hand as the door of the servants' wing had done. It was
+locked, too. Hugo&mdash;or someone else&mdash;had turned the key, thinking that
+she was safe in her own room, and wishing to keep her a prisoner until
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty's blood ran cold. Something was wrong: some dark intention must be
+in Hugo's mind, or he would not have planned so carefully to keep the
+household out of Mrs. Luttrell's room. She remembered that she had seen
+a light in a bed-room near Hugo's own&mdash;the room where Stevens usually
+slept. Should she rouse him and ask for his assistance? No: she knew
+that this man was a mere tool of Hugo's; she could not trust him to help
+her against her husband's will. There was nothing for it but to do what
+she could, without help from anyone. She would be brave for Mrs.
+Luttrell's sake, although she had not been brave for her own.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, why had she not made her warning to Vivian a little stronger? Why
+had Brian Luttrell not come home that night to Netherglen? It was too
+late to expect him now.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart beat fast and her hands trembled, but she went resolutely
+enough to the dressing-room from which Hugo had done his best to exclude
+her. The door was slightly ajar: oh wonderful good fortune! and the fire
+was out. The room was in darkness; and the door leading into Mrs.
+Luttrell's apartment stood open&mdash;she had a full view of its warmly
+lighted space.</p>
+
+<p>She remained motionless for a few minutes: then seeing her opportunity,
+she glided behind the thick curtain that screened the window. Here she
+could see the great white bed with its heavy hangings of crimson damask,
+and the head of the sick woman in its frilled cap lying on the pillows:
+she could see also her husband's face and figure, as he stood beside the
+little table on which Mrs. Luttrell's medicine bottles were usually
+kept, and she shivered at the sight.</p>
+
+<p>His face wore its craftiest and most sinister expression. His eyes were
+narrowed like those of a cat about to spring: the lines of his face were
+set in a look of cruel malice, which Kitty had learned to know. What was
+he doing? He had a tumbler in one hand, and a tiny phial in the other:
+he was measuring out some drops of a fluid into the glass.</p>
+
+<p>He set down the little bottle on the table, and held up the tumbler to
+the light. Then he took a carafe and poured a tea-spoonful of water on
+the liquid. Kitty could see the phial on the table very distinctly. It
+bore in red letters the inscription: "Poison." And again she asked
+herself: what was Hugo going to do?</p>
+
+<p>Breathlessly she watched. He smiled a little to himself, smelt the
+liquid, and held it once more towards the light, as if to judge with his
+narrowed eyes of the quantity required. Then, with a noiseless foot and
+watchful eye, he moved towards the bed, still holding the tumbler in his
+hand. He looked down for a moment at the pale and wrinkled face upon the
+pillow; then he spoke in a peculiarly smooth and ingratiating tone of
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Margaret," he said, "I have brought you something to make you
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>He had placed the glass to her lips, when a movement in the next room
+made him start and lift his eyes. In another moment his wife's hands
+were on his arm, and her eyes were blazing into his own. The liquor in
+the glass was spilt upon the bed. Hugo turned deadly pale.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean? What do you want?" he said, with a look of mingled
+rage and terror. "What are you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to save her&mdash;from you." She was not afraid, now that the
+words were said, now that she had seen the guilty look upon his face.
+She confronted him steadily; she placed herself between him and the bed.
+Hugo uttered a low but emphatic malediction on her "meddlesome folly."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you not in your room?" he said. "I locked you in."</p>
+
+<p>"I was not there. Thank God that I was not."</p>
+
+<p>"And why should you thank God?" said Hugo, who stood looking at her with
+an ugly expression of baffled cunning on his face. "I was doing no harm.
+I was giving her a sleeping-draught."</p>
+
+<p>"Would she ever have waked?" asked Kitty, in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>She looked into her husband's eyes as she spoke, and she knew from that
+moment that the accusation was based on no idle fancy of her own. In
+heart, at least, he was a murderer.</p>
+
+<p>But the question called forth his worst passions. He cursed her
+again&mdash;bitterly, blasphemously&mdash;then raised his hand and struck her with
+his closed fist between the eyes. He knew what he was doing: she fell to
+the ground, stunned and bleeding. He thrust her out of his way; she lay
+on the floor between the bed and the window, moaning a little, but for a
+time utterly unconscious of all that went on around her.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo's preparations had been spoilt. He was obliged to begin them over
+again. But this time his nerve was shaken: he blundered a little once or
+twice. Kitty's low moan was in his ears: the paralysed woman upon the
+bed was regarding him with a look of frozen horror in her wide-open
+eyes. She could not move: she could not speak, but she could understand.</p>
+
+<p>He turned his back upon the two, and measured out the drops once more
+into the glass. His hand shook as he did so. He was longer about his
+work than he had been before. So long that Kitty came to herself a
+little, and watched him with a horrible fascination. First the drops:
+then the water; then the sleeping-draught, from which the sleeper was
+not to awake, would be ready.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty did not know how she found strength or courage to do at that
+moment what she did. It seemed to her that fear, sickness, pain, all
+passed away, and left her only the determination to make one desperate
+effort to defeat her husband's ends.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that the window by which she lay was unshuttered. She rose from
+the ground, she reached the window-sill and threw up the sash, almost
+before Hugo knew what she was doing. Then she sent forth that terrible,
+agonised cry for help, which reached the ears of the four men who were
+even at that moment waiting and listening at the garden door.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo dropped the glass. It was shivered to pieces on the floor, and its
+contents stained the rug on which it fell. He strode to the window and
+stopped his wife's mouth with his hands, then dragged her away from it,
+and spoke some bitter furious words.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to hang me?" he said. "Keep quiet, or I'll make you repent
+your night's work&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And then he paused. He had heard the sound of opening doors, of heavy
+steps and strange voices upon the stairs. He turned hastily to the
+dressing-room, and he was confronted on the threshold by the determined
+face and flashing eyes of his cousin, Brian Luttrell. He cast a hurried
+glance beyond and around him; but he saw no help at hand. Kitty had sunk
+fainting to the ground: there were other faces&mdash;severe and menacing
+enough&mdash;behind Brian's: he felt that he was caught like a wild beast in
+a trap. His only course was to brazen out the matter as best he could;
+and this, in the face of Brian Luttrell, of Percival Heron, of old Mr.
+Colquhoun, it was hard to do. In spite of himself his face turned pale,
+and his knees shook as he spoke in a hoarse and grating tone.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this disturbance mean?" he said. "Why do you come rushing
+into Mrs. Luttrell's room at this hour of the night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," said Brian, taking him by the shoulder, "your wife has called
+for help, and we believe that she needs it. Because we know that you are
+one of the greatest scoundrels that ever trod the face of the earth.
+Because we are going to bring you to justice. That is why!"</p>
+
+<p>"These are very fine accusations," said Hugo, with a pale sneer, "but I
+think you will find a difficulty in proving them, Mr.&mdash;Vasari."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have at least no difficulty in proving that you stole money and
+forged my brother's name three years ago," said Brian, in a voice that
+was terrible in its icy scorn. "I shall have no difficulty in proving to
+the world's satisfaction that you shamefully cheated Dino Vasari, and
+that you twice&mdash;yes, twice&mdash;tried to murder him, in order to gain your
+own ends. Hugo Luttrell, you are a coward, a thief, a would-be murderer;
+and unless you can prove that you were in my mother's room with no evil
+intent (which I believe to be impossible) you shall be branded with all
+these names in the world's face."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no proof&mdash;there is no legal proof," cried Hugo, boldly. But
+his lips were white.</p>
+
+<p>"But there is plenty of moral proof, young man," said Mr. Colquhoun's
+dry voice. "Quite enough to blast your reputation. And what does this
+empty bottle mean and this broken glass? Perhaps your wife can tell us
+that."</p>
+
+<p>There was a momentary silence. Mr. Colquhoun held up the little bottle,
+and pointed with raised eyebrows to the label upon it. Heron was
+supporting his sister in his arms and trying to revive her: Fane and the
+impassive constable barred the way between Hugo and the door.</p>
+
+<p>In that pause, a strange, choked sound came from the bed. For the first
+time for many months Mrs. Luttrell had slightly raised her hand. She
+said the name that had been upon her lips so many times during the last
+few weeks, and her eyes were fixed upon the man whom for a lifetime she
+had called her son.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian!" she said, "Brian!"</p>
+
+<p>And he, suddenly turning pale, relaxed his hold upon Hugo's arm and
+walked to the bed-side. "Mother," he said, leaning over her, "did you
+call me? Did you speak to me?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with wistful eyes: her nerveless fingers tried to
+press his hand. "Brian," she murmured. Then, with a great spasmodic
+effort: "My son!"</p>
+
+<p>The attention of the others had been concentrated upon this little
+scene; and for the moment both Fane and Mr. Colquhoun drew nearer to the
+bed, leaving the door of Mrs. Luttrell's bed-room unguarded. The
+constable was standing in the dressing-room. It was then that Hugo saw
+his chance, although it was one which a sane man would scarcely have
+thought of taking. He made a rush for the bed-room door.</p>
+
+<p>Whither should he go? The front door was bolted and barred; but he
+supposed that the back door would be open. He never thought of the
+entrance to the garden by which Brian Luttrell had got into the house.
+He dashed down the staircase; he was nimbler and lighter-footed than
+Fane, who was immediately behind him, and he knew the tortuous ways and
+winding passages of the house, as Fane did not. He gained on his
+pursuer. Down the dark stone passages he fled: the door into the back
+premises stood wide open. There was a flight of steep stone steps, which
+led straight to a kitchen and thence into the yard. He would have time
+to unbolt the kitchen door, even if it were not already open, for Fane
+was far, far behind.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no light, and there was a sudden turn in the steps which
+he had forgotten. Fane reached the head of the staircase in time to hear
+a cry, a heavy crashing fall, a groan. Then all was still.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LAST CONFESSION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>They carried him upstairs again, handling him gently, and trying to
+discover the extent of his injuries; but they did not guess&mdash;until, in
+the earliest hours of the day, a doctor came from Dunmuir to
+Netherglen&mdash;that Hugo Luttrell's hours on earth were numbered. He had
+broken his back, and although he might linger in agony for a short time,
+the inevitable end was near. As the dawn came creeping into the room in
+which he lay, he opened his eyes, and the watchers saw that he shuddered
+as he looked round.</p>
+
+<p>"Why have they brought me here?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>No one knew why. It was the nearest and most convenient room for the
+purpose. Brian had not been by to interpose, or he might have chosen
+another place. For it was the room to which Richard Luttrell had been
+carried when they brought him back to Netherglen.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty was beside him, and, with her, Elizabeth, who had come from
+Dunmuir on hearing of the accident. These two women, knowing as they did
+the many evil deeds which he had committed, did not refuse him their
+gentle ministry. When they saw the pain that he suffered, their hearts
+bled for him. They could, not love him: they could not forgive him for
+all that he had done; but they pitied him. And most of all they pitied
+him when they knew that the fiat had gone forth that he must die.</p>
+
+<p>He knew it, too. He knew it from their faces: he had no need to ask. The
+hopelessness upon his face, the pathetic look of suffering in his eyes,
+touched even Kitty's heart. She asked him once if she could do anything
+to help him. They were alone together, and the answer was as unexpected
+as it was brief: "I want Angela."</p>
+
+<p>They telegraphed for her, although they hardly thought that she would
+reach the house before he died. But the fact that she was coming seemed
+to buoy him up: he lingered throughout the day, turning his eyes from
+time to time to the clock upon the mantelpiece, or towards the opening
+door. At night he grew restless and uneasy: he murmured piteously that
+she would not come, or that he should die before she came.</p>
+
+<p>Brian, although in the house, held aloof from the injured man's room.
+Merciful as he was by nature, Hugo's offences had transcended the bounds
+even of his tolerance; and his anger was more implacable than that of a
+harsher man. Although he had been told that Hugo was dying, he found it
+hard to be pitiful. He knew more than Hugo imagined. Mrs. Luttrell had
+recovered speech sufficiently to tell her son the history of the
+previous night, and Brian was certain that Kitty's cry for help had come
+only just in time.</p>
+
+<p>It was early in the evening when Hugo spoke, almost for the first time
+of his own accord, to his wife. "Kitty," he said, imperiously, "come
+here."</p>
+
+<p>She came, trembling a little, and stood beside him, scarcely bearing to
+meet the gaze of those darkly-burning eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty," he said, looking at her strangely, "I suppose you hate me."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered. "No, indeed, Hugo."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that mark on your forehead from the blow I gave you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to hurt you," he said, "but I think I was mad just then.
+However, it doesn't matter; I am going to die, and you can be happy in
+your own way. I suppose you will marry Vivian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk so, Hugo," she said, laying her hand upon his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I do not care. Better to die than lie here&mdash;here, where
+Richard Luttrell lay. Kitty, they say I cannot be moved while I live;
+but if&mdash;if you believe that I ever loved you, see that they carry me out
+of this room as soon as I am dead. Promise me that."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I want. Marry Vivian, and forget me as soon as you please.
+He will never love you as much as I did, Kitty. If I had lived, you
+would have loved me, too, in time. But it's no use now."</p>
+
+<p>The voice was faint, but sullen. Kitty's heart yearned over him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hugo," she said, "won't you think of other things? Ask God to
+forgive you for what you have done: He will forgive you if you repent:
+He will, indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk to me of forgiveness," said Hugo, closing his eyes. "No one
+forgives: God least of all."</p>
+
+<p>"We forgive you, Hugo," said Kitty, with brimming eyes, "and is God less
+merciful than ourselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait till Angela comes," he answered. "I will listen to her. To
+nobody but her."</p>
+
+<p>And then he relapsed into a half-conscious state, from which she dared
+not arouse him.</p>
+
+<p>Angela came at night; and she was led almost instantly to the room in
+which he lay. He opened his eyes as soon as she entered, and fixed them
+eagerly upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have come," he said. There was a touch of satisfaction in his
+tone. She knelt down beside him and took his hand. "Talk to me," he
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty and Brian, who had entered with Angela, marvelled at the request.
+They marvelled more when she complied with it in a curiously undoubting
+way. It seemed as if she understood his needs, his peculiarities, even
+his sins, exactly. She spoke of the holiest things in a simple, direct
+way, which evidently appealed to something within him; for, though he
+did not respond, he lay with his eyes fixed upon her face, and gave no
+sign of discontent.</p>
+
+<p>At last he sighed, and bade her stop.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all wrong," he said, wearily. "I had forgotten. I ought to have a
+priest."</p>
+
+<p>"There is one waiting downstairs," said Brian.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo started at the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"So you are there?" he said. "Oh, it's no use. No priest would absolve
+me until&mdash;until&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes: until what?" said Angela. But he made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, however, he pressed her hand, and murmured:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You were always good to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Hugo!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I loved you&mdash;a little&mdash;not in the way I loved Kitty&mdash;but as a
+saint&mdash;an angel. Do you think you could forgive me if I had wronged
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, I believe so."</p>
+
+<p>"If you forgive me, I shall think that there is some hope. But I don't
+know. Brian is there still, is he not? I have something to say to him."</p>
+
+<p>Brian came forward, a little reluctantly. Hugo looked at him with those
+melancholy, sunken eyes, in which a sort of fire seemed to smoulder
+still.</p>
+
+<p>"Brian will never forgive me," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Hugo, he will," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>Brian gave an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or dissent they
+could not tell. But he did not look at Hugo's face.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said Hugo. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. I was justified
+in what I did."</p>
+
+<p>"You hear," said Brian to Angela, in a very low voice.</p>
+
+<p>But Hugo went on without noticing.</p>
+
+<p>"Justified&mdash;except in one thing. And I want to tell you about that."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not," said Brian, quietly. "If it is anything fresh, I do not
+wish to hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Brian," said Angela, "you are hard."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is not too hard," Hugo interposed, in a dreamy voice, more as if
+he were talking to himself than to them. "He was always good to me: he
+did more for me than anybody else. More than Richard. I always hated
+Richard. I wished that he was dead." He stopped, and then resumed, with
+a firmer intonation. "Is Mr. Colquhoun in the house? Fetch him here, and
+Vivian too, if he is at hand. I have something to say to them."</p>
+
+<p>They did his bidding, and presently the persons for whom he asked stood
+at his bed-side.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they all here? My eyes are getting dim; it is time I spoke," said
+Hugo, feebly. "Mr. Colquhoun, I shall want you to take down what I say.
+You may make it as public as you like. Angela&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He felt for her hand. She gave it to him, and let him lean upon her
+shoulder as he spoke. He looked up in her eyes with a sort of smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, Angela," he said, "for the last time. You will never do it
+again.... Are you all listening? I wish you and everyone to know that it
+was I&mdash;I&mdash;who shot Richard Luttrell in the wood; not Brian. We fired at
+the same moment. It was not Brian; do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a dead silence. Then Brian staggered as if he would have
+fallen, and caught at Percival's arm. But the weakness was only for a
+moment. He said, simply, "I thank God," and stood erect again. Mr.
+Colquhoun put on his spectacles and stared at him. Angela, pale to the
+lips, did not move; Hugo's head was still resting against her shoulder.
+It was Brian's voice that broke the silence, and there was pity and
+kindliness in its tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Hugo," he said, bending over him. "It was an accident; it
+might have been done by either of us. God knows I sorrowed bitterly when
+I thought my hand had done it; perhaps you have sorrowed, too. At any
+rate, you are trying to make amends, and if I have anything personally
+to forgive&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said Hugo, in his feeble yet imperious voice, with long pauses
+between the brief, broken sentences. "You do not understand. I did it on
+purpose. I meant to kill him. He had struck me, and I meant to be
+revenged. I thought I should suffer for it&mdash;and I did not care.... I did
+not mean Brian to be blamed; but I dared not tell the truth.... Put me
+down, Angela; I killed him, do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>But she did not move.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you wish me to write this statement?" said Mr. Colquhoun, in his
+dryest manner. "If so, I have done it."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me the pen," said Hugo, when he had heard what had been written.</p>
+
+<p>He took it between his feeble fingers. He could scarcely write; but he
+managed to scrawl his name at the bottom of the paper on which his
+confession was recorded, and two of the persons present signed their
+names as witnesses.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell Mrs. Luttrell," said Hugo, very faintly, when this was over. Then
+he lay back, closed his eyes, and remained for some time without
+speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"I have something else to tell," he said, at last. "Kitty&mdash;you know, she
+married me ... but it was against her own will. She did not elope with
+me. I carried her off.... She will explain it all now. Do you hear,
+Kitty? Tell anything you like. It will not hurt me. You never loved me,
+and you never would have done. But nobody will ever love you as I did;
+remember that. And I think that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you nothing to say," asked Mr. Colquhoun in very solemn tones,
+"about your conduct to Dino Vasari and Mrs. Luttrell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to you."</p>
+
+<p>"But everything to God," murmured Angela. He raised his eyes to her face
+and did not speak. "Pray for His forgiveness, Hugo, and He will grant
+it. Even if your sins are as scarlet they shall be as white as snow."</p>
+
+<p>"I want your forgiveness," he whispered, "and nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>"I will give you mine," she said, and the tears fell from her eyes as
+she spoke; "and Brian will give you his: yes, Brian, yes. As we hope
+ourselves to be forgiven, Hugo, we forgive you; and we will pray with
+you for God's forgiveness, too."</p>
+
+<p>She had taken Brian's hand and laid it upon Hugo's, and for a moment the
+three hands rested together in one strangely loving clasp. And then Hugo
+whispered, "Pray for me if you like: I&mdash;I dare not pray."</p>
+
+<p>And, forgetful of any human presence but that of this sick, sinful soul
+about to come before its Maker, Angela prayed aloud.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>He died in the early dawn, with his hand still clasped in hers. The
+short madness of his love for Kitty seemed to have faded from his
+memory. Perhaps all earthly things had grown rather faint to him:
+certain it was that his attempt on the lives of Dino and of Mrs.
+Luttrell did not seem to weigh very heavily on his conscience. It was
+the thought of Richard Luttrell that haunted him more than all beside.
+It was with a long, shuddering moan of fear&mdash;and, as Angela hoped (but
+only faintly hoped), of penitence&mdash;that his soul went out into the
+darkness of eternity.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>With Hugo Luttrell's death, the troubles of the family at Netherglen
+seemed to disappear. Old Mrs. Luttrell's powers of speech remained with
+her, although she could not use her limbs; and the hardness and
+stubbornness of her character had undergone a marvellous change. She
+wept when she heard of Dino's death; but her affection for Brian, and
+also for Elizabeth, proved to be strong and unwavering. Her great
+desire&mdash;that the properties of Netherglen and Strathleckie should be
+united&mdash;was realised in a way of which she had never dreamt. Brian
+himself believed firmly that he was of Italian parentage and that Dino
+Vasari was the veritable heir of the Luttrells; but the notion was now
+so painful to Mrs. Luttrell, that he never spoke of it, and agreed, as
+he said to Elizabeth, to be recognised as the master of Netherglen and
+Strathleckie under false pretences. "For the whole estate, to tell the
+truth, is yours, not mine," he said. And she: "What does that matter,
+since we are man and wife! There is no 'mine and thine' in the case. It
+is all yours and all mine; for we are one."</p>
+
+<p>In fact, no words were more applicable to Brian and Elizabeth than the
+quaint lines of the old poet:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They were so one, it never could be said<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which of them ruled and which of them obeyed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He ruled because she would obey; and she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By her obeying, ruled as well as he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There ne'er was known between them a dispute<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save which the other's will should execute."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The Herons returned to London shortly after Elizabeth's marriage, and
+with them Kitty returned, too. But it was a very different Kitty from
+the one who had frolicked at Strathleckie, or pined at Netherglen. The
+widowed Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was a gentler, perhaps a sadder, woman than
+Kitty Heron had promised to be: but she was a sweeter woman, and one who
+formed the chief support and comfort to her father's large and irregular
+household, as it passed from its home in Scotland to a more permanent
+abode in Kensington. For the house in Gower-street, dear as it was to
+Kitty's heart, was not the one which Mr. and Mrs. Heron preferred to any
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Little Jack, now slowly recovering from his affection of the spine,
+found in Kitty the motherliness which he had sorely missed when
+Elizabeth first went away. His affection was very sweet to Kitty. She
+had never hitherto been more than a playmate to her step-brothers: she
+was destined henceforward to be their chief counsellor and friend. And
+the little baby-sister was almost as a child of her own to Kitty's
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until more than a year of quiet life in her father's home had
+passed away that she saw much of Rupert Vivian. She was very shy and
+silent with him when he began to seek her out again. He thought her a
+little cold, and fancied that a blind man could find no favour in her
+eyes. It was Angela&mdash;that universal peacemaker&mdash;who at last set matters
+straight between the two.</p>
+
+<p>"Kitty," she said, one day when Kitty was calling upon her, "why are you
+so distant and unfriendly to my brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to be," said Kitty, with rising colour.</p>
+
+<p>"But, indeed, you are. And he thinks&mdash;he thinks&mdash;that he has offended
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! How could he!" ejaculated Kitty. Whereat Angela smiled. "You
+must tell him not to think any such thing, Angela, please."</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell him yourself. He might not believe me," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>Kitty was very simple in some things still. She took Angela's advice
+literally.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I tell him now&mdash;to-day?" she said, seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, now, to-day," said Angela. "You will find him in the library."</p>
+
+<p>"But he will think it so strange if I go to him there."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. I would not send you to him if I did not know what he would
+feel. Kitty, he is not happy. Can you not make him a little happier?"</p>
+
+<p>And then Angela, who had meanwhile led her guest to the library door,
+opened it and made her enter, almost against her will. She stood for a
+moment inside the door, doubting whether to go or stay. Then she looked
+at Rupert, and decided that she would stay.</p>
+
+<p>He was alone. He was leaning his head on one hand in an attitude of
+listlessness, which showed that he was out of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Angela?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Kitty, softly. "It's not Angela: it's me."</p>
+
+<p>She was very ungrammatical, but her tone was sweet, and Rupert smiled.
+His face looked as if the sunshine had fallen on it.</p>
+
+<p>"Me, is it?" he said, half-rising. Then, more gravely&mdash;"I am very glad
+to see you&mdash;no, not to see you: that's not it, is it?&mdash;to have you
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you?" said Kitty.</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not?" He was holding her hand now, and she did not draw it away
+even when he raised it, somewhat hesitatingly, to his lips. He went on
+in a very low voice:&mdash;"It would make the happiness of my life to have
+you always with me. But I must not hope for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said Kitty, giving him both hands instead of one; "when it
+would make mine, too."</p>
+
+<p>And after that there was no more to be said.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," she whispered, a little later, "am I at all now like the
+little girl in Gower-street that you used to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," he answered, kissing her. "You are dearer, sweeter,
+lovelier than any little girl in Gower-street or anywhere else in the
+whole wide world."</p>
+
+<p>"And you forgive me for my foolishness?"</p>
+
+<p>"My darling," he said, "your foolishness was nothing to my own. And if
+you can bear to tie yourself to a blind man, so many years older than
+yourself, who has proved himself the most arrogant and conceited fool
+alive&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Kitty. "I shall not allow you to speak in that way&mdash;of the
+man I love."</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, then, for the first time in your life, Kitty, and I will say
+no more."</p>
+
+<p>And so they married and went down to Vivian Court in Devonshire, where
+they live and flourish still, the happiest of the happy. Never more
+happy than when Brian and Elizabeth came to spend a week with them,
+bringing a pair of sturdy boys&mdash;Bernard and Richard they are called&mdash;to
+play with Kitty's little girl upon the velvet lawns and stately terraces
+of Vivian Court. Kitty is already making plans for the future union of
+Bernard Luttrell and her own little Angela; but her husband shakes his
+head, and laughingly tells her that planned marriages never come to
+good.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought all marriages had to be planned," says Kitty, innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"Mine was not."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that I was led into it&mdash;quite against my will, madam&mdash;by a
+tricksy, wilful sprite, who would have her own way&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Say that you have not repented it, Rupert," she whispers, looking up at
+him with the fond, sorrowful eyes that he cannot see.</p>
+
+<p>"My own love," he answers, taking her in his arms and kissing her, "you
+make the sunshine of my life; and as long as you are near me I am
+thoroughly and unspeakably content."</p>
+
+<p>Kitty knows that it is true, although she weeps sometimes in secret at
+the thought that he will never look upon his little daughter's face. But
+everyone says that the tiny Angela is the image of Kitty herself as a
+child; and, therefore, when the mother wishes to describe the winning
+face and dancing eyes, she tells Rupert that he has only to picture to
+himself once more&mdash;"the little girl that he used to know in Gower
+Street."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."</h3>
+
+
+<p>And what of Angela Vivian, the elder? Angela, whose heart was said to be
+buried in a grave?</p>
+
+<p>After Hugo Luttrell's death, she remained for some time at Netherglen,
+sitting a great deal in Mrs. Luttrell's room and trying to resume the
+daughter-like ways which had grown so natural to her. But she was driven
+slowly to perceive that she was by no means necessary to Mrs. Luttrell's
+happiness. Mrs. Luttrell loved her still, but her heart had gone out
+vehemently to Brian and Elizabeth; and when either of them was within
+call she wanted nothing else. Brian and Elizabeth would gladly have kept
+Angela with them for evermore, but it seemed to her that her duty lay
+now rather with her brother than with those who were, after all, of no
+kith or kin to her. She returned, therefore, to Rupert's house in
+Kensington, and lived there until his marriage took place.</p>
+
+<p>She was sorry for one thing&mdash;that the friendship between herself and
+Percival Heron seemed to be broken. The words which she had spoken to
+him before Hugo's death had evidently made a very strong impression upon
+Percival's mind. He looked guilty and uncomfortable when he spoke to
+her; his manner became unusually abrupt, and at last she noticed that,
+if she happened to come into a room which he occupied, he immediately
+made an excuse for leaving it. She had very few opportunities of seeing
+him at all; but every time she met him, his avoidance of her became so
+marked that she was hurt and grieved by it. But she could not do
+anything to mend matters; and so she waited and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>She heard, on her return to Kensington, that he had been a great deal to
+her brother's house, and had done much for Rupert's comfort. But as soon
+as he knew that she intended to stay in London he began to discontinue
+his visits. It was very evident that he had determined to see as little
+of her as possible. And, by-and-bye, he never came at all. For full
+three months before Kitty's engagement to Rupert Percival did not appear
+at the pleasant house in Kensington.</p>
+
+<p>Angela was sitting alone, however, one day when he was announced. He
+came in, glanced round with a vexed and irritated air, and made some
+sort of apology.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to see Rupert. I thought that you were away," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And, therefore, you came?" she said, with a little smile. "It was very
+good of you to come when you thought he would be lonely."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean that exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"No? I wish you would come to see him a little oftener, Mr. Heron; he
+misses your visits very much."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't miss them long, he will soon get used to doing without me."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am going away."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" said Angela, turning to look at him.</p>
+
+<p>"To California," he answered grimly.</p>
+
+<p>She paused for a moment, and then said in a tranquil tone, "Oh, no."</p>
+
+<p>"No? Why not?" said Percival, smiling a little in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I think that if you go you will be back again in six months."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah? You think I have no constancy in me; no resolution; no manliness."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I think nothing so dreadful. But California is not the place
+where I can imagine a man of your tastes being happy. Were you so very
+happy on the Rocas Reef?"</p>
+
+<p>"That has nothing to do with it. I should have been happy if I had had
+enough to do. I want some active work."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not find that in England?"</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay I might. I hate England. I have nothing to keep me in
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"But what has happened?" asked Angela. "You did not talk in this way
+when you came from the Rocas Reef."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I did not know what a fool I could make of myself."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him with a faint, sweet smile. "You alarm me, Mr. Heron,"
+she said, very tranquilly. "What have you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival started up from the low seat in which he had placed himself,
+walked to the window, and then came back to her side and looked at her.
+He was standing in one of his most defiant attitudes, with his hands
+thrust into his pockets, and a deep dent on his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you what I have been doing," he said, in a curiously dogged
+tone. "I'll give you my history for the last year or two. It isn't a
+creditable one. Will you listen to it or not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will listen to it," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with serene, meditative eyes, which calmed him almost
+against his will as he proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, then," he said. "I nearly wrecked three lives through my
+own selfish obstinacy. I almost broke a woman's heart and sacrificed my
+honour&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost? Nearly?" said Angela, gently. "That is possible, but you saw
+your mistake in time. You drew back; you did not do these things."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what I did do!" he exclaimed. "I whined to you, until I
+loathe myself, about a woman who never cared a straw for me. Do you call
+that manly?"</p>
+
+<p>"I call it very natural," said Angela.</p>
+
+<p>"And after all&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, after all?" He hesitated so long that she looked up into his face
+and gently repeated the words "After all?"</p>
+
+<p>"After all," he went on at last, with a sort of groan, "I love&mdash;someone
+else."</p>
+
+<p>They were both silent. He threw himself into a chair, and looked at her
+expectantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you despise me?" he said, presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I, Mr. Heron?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why? Because you are so constant, so changeless, that you cannot be
+expected to sympathise with a man who loves a second time," cried
+Percival, in an exasperated tone. "And yet this love is as sunlight to
+candlelight, as wine to water! But you will never understand that, you,
+with your heart given to one man&mdash;buried in a grave."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short; she had half-risen, and made a gesture as if she would
+have bidden him be silent.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said, vehemently. "I am doing it again. I am hurting you,
+grieving you, as I did once before, when I forgot your great sorrow; and
+you did right to reprove me then. I know you have hated me ever since. I
+know you cannot forgive me for the pain I inflicted. It's, of course, of
+no use to say I am sorry; that is an utterly futile thing to do; but as
+far as any such feeble reparation is in my power, I am quite prepared to
+offer it to you. Sorry? I have cursed myself and my own folly ever
+since."</p>
+
+<p>"You are making a mistake, Mr. Heron," said Angela. She felt as if she
+could say nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>"How am I making a mistake?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"At the time you refer to," she said, in a hurried yet stumbling sort of
+way, "when you said what you did, I thought it careless, inconsiderate
+of you; but I have not remembered it in the way that you seem to think;
+I have not been angry. I have not hated you. There is no need for you to
+tell me that you are sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"I think there is every need," he said. "Do you suppose that I am going
+away into the Western wilds without even an apology?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is needless," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause, and then he leaned forward and said in a deeper
+tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You would not say that it was needless if you felt now as you did just
+then."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him helplessly, but did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"It is three years since he died. I don't ask you to forget him, only I
+ask whether you could not love someone else&mdash;as well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Heron, don't ask me," she said, tremblingly. And then she
+covered her face with her hands; her cheeks were crimson.</p>
+
+<p>"I will ask nothing," said Percival. "I will only tell you what my
+feelings have been, and then I will go away. It's a selfish indulgence,
+I know; but I beg of you to grant it. When I had spoken those
+inconsiderate words of mine I was ashamed of myself. I saw how much I
+had grieved you, and I vowed that I would never come into your presence
+again. I went away, and I kept away. You have seen for yourself how I
+have tried to avoid you, have you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, gently. "I have seen it."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the reason now. I could not bear to see you and feel what you
+must be thinking of me. And then&mdash;then&mdash;I found that it was misery to be
+without you. I found that I missed you inexpressibly. I did not know
+till then how dear you had grown to me."</p>
+
+<p>She did not move, she did not speak, she only sat and listened, with her
+eyes fixed upon her folded hands. But there was nothing forbidding in
+her silence. He felt that he might go on.</p>
+
+<p>"It comes to this with me," he said, "that I cannot bear to meet you as
+I meet an ordinary friend or acquaintance. I would rather know that I
+shall never see you again. Either you must be all to me&mdash;or nothing. I
+know that it must be nothing, and so&mdash;I am going to California."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not go," she said, without looking up. She spoke coldly, he thought,
+but sweetly, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I must," he answered. "I must&mdash;in spite of the joy that it is to me to
+be even in your presence, and to hear your voice&mdash;I must go. I cannot
+bear it. I love you too well. It is a greater pain than I can bear, to
+look at you and to know that I can bring you no comfort, no solace; that
+your heart is buried with Richard Luttrell in a grave."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken," she said again. Then, in a faltering voice, "you can
+bring me comfort. I shall be sorry if you are away."</p>
+
+<p>He caught his breath. "Do you mean it, Angela?" he cried, eagerly.
+"Think what you are saying, do not tell me to stay unless&mdash;unless&mdash;you
+can give me a little hope. Is it possible that you do not forbid me to
+love you? Do you think that in time&mdash;in time&mdash;I might win your love?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in time," she murmured, "but now&mdash;now."</p>
+
+<p>He could hardly believe his ears. He knelt down beside her, and took her
+hands in his. "Now, Angela?" he said. "Can you love me now? Oh, my love,
+my love! tell me the truth! Have you forgiven me?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were swimming in tears, but she gave him a glance of so much
+tenderness and trust, that he never again doubted her entire
+forgiveness. She might never forget Richard Luttrell, but her heart,
+with all its wealth of love, was given to the man who knelt before her,
+not buried in a grave.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Of course he did not go to California. The project was an utterly
+unsuitable one, and nobody scouted it more disdainfully than did he as
+soon as the mood of discontent was past. If a crowning touch were needed
+to the happiness of Brian and Elizabeth, it was given by this marriage.
+The sting of remorse which had troubled them at times when they looked
+at Percival's gloomy face was quite withdrawn. Percival's face was
+seldom gloomy now. Angela seemed to have found the secret of soothing
+his irritable nerves, of calming his impatience. Her sweet serenity was
+never ruffled by his violence; and for her sake he learned to subdue his
+temper, and to smooth his tongue as well as his brow. She led the lion
+in a leash of silk, and he was actually proud to be so led.</p>
+
+<p>They took a house in the unfashionable precincts of Russell-square,
+where Percival could be near his work. They were not rich, by any manner
+of means; but they were able to live in a very comfortable fashion, and
+soon found themselves surrounded by a circle of friends, who were quite
+as much attracted by Angela's tranquil grace and tenderness as by
+Percival's fitful brilliancy. Percival would never be very popular; but
+it was soon admitted on every hand that his intellect had seldom been so
+clear, his insight so great, nor his wit so free from bitterness, as in
+the days that succeeded his marriage with Angela. There is every reason
+to suppose that he will yet be a thoroughly prosperous and successful
+man.</p>
+
+<p>The one drop of bitterness in their cup is the absence of children. No
+little feet have come to patter up and down the wide staircase of that
+roomy house in Russell-square, no little voices re-echo along the
+passages and in the lofty rooms. But Angela's heart is perhaps only the
+more ready to bestow its tenderness upon the many who come to her for
+help&mdash;the weak, the sickly, the sinful and the weary, for whom she
+spends herself and is not spent in vain.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Little more than two years after Brian's marriage, Mrs. Luttrell died.
+She died with her hand fast clasped in that of the man who had been
+indeed a son to her, she died with his name upon her lips. And when she
+was laid to rest beside her husband and her eldest son, Brian and
+Elizabeth were free to carry out a project which had been for some time
+very near their hearts. They went together to San Stefano.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Elizabeth first heard the whole story of her husband's
+sojourn at the monastery. She had never known more than the bare facts
+before; and she listened with a new comprehension of his character, as
+he told her of the days of listless anguish spent after his illness at
+San Stefano, and of the hopelessness from which her own words and looks
+aroused him. He spoke much, also, of Dino and of Padre Cristoforo and
+the kindly monks: and in the sunny stillness of an early Italian morning
+they went to the churchyard to look for Dino's grave.</p>
+
+<p>They would not have found it but for the help of a monk who chanced to
+be in the neighbourhood. He led them courteously to the spot. It was
+unmarked by any stone, but a wreath of flowers had been laid upon it
+that morning, and the grassy mound showed signs of constant care. Brian
+and Elizabeth stood silently beside it; they did not move until the monk
+addressed them. And then Brian saw that Father Cristoforo was standing
+at their side.</p>
+
+<p>"He sleeps well," he said. "You need not mourn for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he sleeps," answered Brian, a little bitterly. "But we have lost
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I not know that as well as you? Do I not grieve for him?" said the
+old man, with a deep sigh. "I have more reason to grieve than you. I
+have never yet told you how he died. Come with me and I will let you
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>They followed him to the guest-room of the monastery, and there, whilst
+they waited for him to speak, he threw back his cowl and fixed his eyes
+on Elizabeth's fair face.</p>
+
+<p>"It was for your sake," he said, "for your sake, in part, that Dino left
+his duty to the Church undone. It was your face, signora, that came, as
+he told me, between him and his prayers. I am glad that I have seen you
+before I die."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke mournfully, yet meditatively&mdash;more as if he was talking to
+himself than to her. Elizabeth shrank back a little, and Brian uttered a
+quick exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Her face?" he said. "Father, what does this mean?"</p>
+
+<p>The monk gave a start, and seemed to rouse himself from a dream.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," he said, gently; "I am growing an old man, and I have had
+much to bear. I spoke without thought. Let me tell you the story of
+Dino's death."</p>
+
+<p>As far as he knew it, as far as he guessed it, he told the story. And
+when Brian uttered some strong ejaculation of anger and grief at its
+details, Father Cristoforo bowed his head upon his breast, folded his
+hands, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"I was wrong," he said. "You do well to rebuke me, my son; for I was
+wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"You were hard, you were cruel," said Brian, vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was hard; I was cruel. But I am punished. The light of my eyes
+has been taken from me. I have lost the son that I loved."</p>
+
+<p>"You will see him again," said Elizabeth, softly. "You will go to him
+some day."</p>
+
+<p>"The saints grant it. I fear that I may not be worthy. To him the high
+places will be given; to me&mdash;to me&mdash;&mdash;But he will pray for me."</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. The old man's
+form was bent; his face was shrunken, his eyes were dim. As she rightly
+guessed, it was the sorrow of Dino's death that had aged him in this
+way.</p>
+
+<p>Brian spoke next.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he said, "tell me for the last time, father, what you believe
+to have been the truth of the story. Did Vincenza change the children,
+or did she not?"</p>
+
+<p>"My son," said the old monk, "a few months&mdash;nay, a few weeks ago, I said
+to myself that I would never answer that question. But life is slipping
+away from me; and I cannot leave the world with even the shadow of a lie
+upon my lips. When I sent Dino to England, I believed that Vincenza had
+done this thing. When Dino returned to us, I still believed that he was
+Mrs. Luttrell's son. But since our Dino's death, I have had a message&mdash;a
+solemn message&mdash;from the persons who saw Vincenza die. She had charged
+them with her last breath to tell me that the story was false&mdash;that the
+children were never changed at all. It was Mrs. Luttrell's delusion that
+suggested the plan to her. She hoped that she might make money by
+declaring that you were her son, and Dino, Mrs. Luttrell's. She swore on
+her death-bed that Dino was her child, and that it was Lippo Vasari who
+was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano."</p>
+
+<p>"Which story are we to believe?" said Brian, almost doubtingly.</p>
+
+<p>"The evidence is pretty evenly balanced," replied the Prior. "Believe
+the one that suits you best."</p>
+
+<p>Brian did not answer; he stood for a moment with his head bent and his
+eyes fixed on the ground. "To think," he said at last, "of the misery
+that we have suffered through&mdash;a lie!" Then he looked up, and met
+Elizabeth's eyes. "You are right," he said, as if answering some
+unspoken comment, "I have no reason to complain. I found Dino&mdash;and I
+found you; a friend and a wife&mdash;I thank God for them both."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand in his, and his face was lit up with the look of love
+that was henceforth, as hitherto, to make the happiness of his life and
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>And when they went forth from the monastery doors it seemed to them a
+good omen that the last words echoing in their ears were those of the
+old monk's farewell salutation:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Go in peace!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="BOOKS_TO_READ" id="BOOKS_TO_READ"></a>BOOKS TO READ.</h2>
+
+<h3>CANADIAN COPYRIGHT SERIES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>15. Little Lord Fauntleroy. By Frances H. Burnett</p>
+
+<p>16. The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark Russell</p>
+
+<p>17. Jo's Boys, and How They Turned Out. By Louisa M. Alcott</p>
+
+<p>18. Saddle and Sabre. By Hawley Smart</p>
+
+<p>19. A Prince of the Blood. By James Payn</p>
+
+<p>20. An Algonquin Maiden. By G. Mercer Adam and A. Ethelwyn Wetherald</p>
+
+<p>21. One Traveller Returns. By David Christie Murray and H. Hermann</p>
+
+<p>22. Stained Pages; The Story of Anthony Grace. By G. Manville Fenn</p>
+
+<p>23. Lieutenant Barnabas. By Frank Barrett</p>
+
+<p>24. The Nun's Curse. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell</p>
+
+<p>25. The Twin Soul. By Charles Mackay</p>
+
+<p>26. One Maid's Mischief. By G. M. Fenn</p>
+
+<p>27. A Modern Magician. By J. F. Molloy</p>
+
+<p>28. A House of Tears. By E. Downey</p>
+
+<p>29. Sara Crewe and Editha's Burglar. By Frances H. Burnett</p>
+
+<p>30. The Abbey Murder. By Joseph Hatton</p>
+
+<p>31. The Argonauts of North Liberty. By Bret Harte</p>
+
+<p>32. Cradled in a Storm. By T. A. Sharp</p>
+
+<p>33. A Woman's Face. By Florence Warden</p>
+
+<p>34. Miracle Gold. By Richard Dowling</p>
+
+<p>35. Molloy's Story. By Frank Merryfield</p>
+
+<p>36. The Fortunes of Philippa Fairfax. By Frances H. Burnett</p>
+
+<p>37. The Silent Shore, or The Mystery of St James' Park. By John
+Bloundelle-Burton</p>
+
+<p>38. Eve. By S. Baring Gould</p>
+
+<p>39. Doctor Glennie's Daughter. By B. L. Farjeon</p>
+
+<p>40. The Case of Doctor Plemen. By Rene de Pont-Jest</p>
+
+<p>41. Bewitching Iza. By Alexis Bouvier</p>
+
+<p>42. A Wily Widow. By Alexis Bouvier</p>
+
+<p>43. Diana Barrington. By Mrs. John Croker</p>
+
+<p>44. The Ironmaster, or Love and Pride. By Georges Ohnet</p>
+
+<p>45. A Mere Child. By L. B. Walford</p>
+
+<p>46. Black Blood. By Geo. M. Fenn</p>
+
+<p>47. The Dream. By Emile Zola</p>
+
+<p>48. A Strange Message. By Dora Russell</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td align="center">
+      Transcriber's note:
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>
+      The original book does not have a Table of Contents. One was
+      added for the reader's convenience.
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Under False Pretences, by Adeline Sergeant
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Under False Pretences
+       A Novel
+
+
+Author: Adeline Sergeant
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 23, 2010  [eBook #31375]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Robert Cicconetti, Mary Meehan, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from
+page images generously made available by Early Canadiana Online
+(http://www.canadiana.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Early Canadiana Online. See
+      http://www.canadiana.org/ECO/ItemRecord/33035
+
+
+
+
+
+UNDER FALSE PRETENCES
+
+A Novel.
+
+by
+
+ADELINE SERGEANT
+
+Author of _Jacobi's Wife, Beyond Recall, An Open Foe, etc._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year one
+thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine by William Bryce, in the office
+of the Minister of Agriculture.
+
+Toronto;
+William Bryce, Publisher.
+
+
+
+
+UNDER FALSE PRETENCES.
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+   CHAPTER I.       Prologue to the Story
+   CHAPTER II.      BY THE LOCH.
+   CHAPTER III.     HUGO LUTTRELL.
+   CHAPTER IV.      IN THE TWILIGHT.
+   CHAPTER V.       THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.
+   CHAPTER VI.      MOTHER AND SON.
+   CHAPTER VII.     A FAREWELL.
+   CHAPTER VIII.    IN GOWER-STREET.
+   CHAPTER IX.      ELIZABETH'S WOOING.
+   CHAPTER X.       BROTHER DINO.
+   CHAPTER XI.      ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.
+   CHAPTER XII.     THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.
+   CHAPTER XIII.    SAN STEFANO.
+   CHAPTER XIV.     THE PRIOR'S OPINION.
+   CHAPTER XV.      THE VILLA VENTURI.
+   CHAPTER XVI.     "WITHOUT A REFERENCE."
+   CHAPTER XVII.    PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.
+   CHAPTER XVIII.   THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.
+   CHAPTER XIX.     A LOST LETTER.
+   CHAPTER XX.      "MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."
+   CHAPTER XXI.     A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.
+   CHAPTER XXII.    BRIAN'S WELCOME.
+   CHAPTER XXIII.   THE WISHING WELL.
+   CHAPTER XXIV.    "GOOD-BYE."
+   CHAPTER XXV.     A COVENANT.
+   CHAPTER XXVI.    ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.
+   CHAPTER XXVII.   PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.
+   CHAPTER XXVIII.  A REVELATION.
+   CHAPTER XXIX.    CHAPTER XXIX.
+   CHAPTER XXX.     FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.
+   CHAPTER XXXI.    ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.
+   CHAPTER XXXII.   RETRIBUTION.
+   CHAPTER XXXIII.  WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.
+   CHAPTER XXXIV.   PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.
+   CHAPTER XXXV.    DINO'S HOME-COMING.
+   CHAPTER XXXVI.   BY LAND AND SEA.
+   CHAPTER XXXVII.  WRECKED.
+   CHAPTER XXXVIII. ON THE ROCAS REEF.
+   CHAPTER XXXIX.   BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
+   CHAPTER XL.      KITTY.
+   CHAPTER XLI.     KITTY'S FRIENDS.
+   CHAPTER XLII.    A FALSE ALARM.
+   CHAPTER XLIII.   TRAPPED.
+   CHAPTER XLIV.    HUGO'S VICTORY.
+   CHAPTER XLV.     TOO LATE!
+   CHAPTER XLVI.    A MERE CHANCE.
+   CHAPTER XLVII.   FOUND.
+   CHAPTER XLVIII.  ANGELA.
+   CHAPTER XLIX.    KITTY'S WARNING.
+   CHAPTER L.       MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.
+   CHAPTER LI.      A LAST CONFESSION.
+   CHAPTER LII.     "THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Prologue to the Story.
+
+In Two Parts.
+
+
+I.
+
+It was in the year 1854 that an English gentleman named Edward Luttrell
+took up his abode in a white-walled, green-shuttered villa on the slopes
+of the western Apennines. He was accompanied by his wife (a Scotchwoman
+and an heiress), his son (a fine little fellow, five years old), and a
+couple of English servants. The party had been travelling in Italy for
+some months, and it was the heat of the approaching summer, as well as
+the delicate state of health in which Mrs. Luttrell found herself, that
+induced Mr. Luttrell to seek out some pleasant house amongst the hills
+where his wife and child might enjoy cool breezes and perfect repose.
+For he had lately had reason to be seriously concerned about Mrs.
+Luttrell's health.
+
+The husband and wife were as unlike each other as they well could be.
+Edward Luttrell was a broad-shouldered, genial, hearty man, warmly
+affectionate, hasty in word, generous in deed. Mrs. Luttrell was a woman
+of peculiarly cold manners; but she was capable, as many members of her
+household knew, of violent fits of temper and also of implacable
+resentment. She was not an easy woman to get on with, and if her husband
+had not been a man of very sweet and pliable nature, he might not have
+lived with her on such peaceful terms as was generally the case. She had
+inherited a great Scotch estate from her father, and Edward Luttrell was
+almost entirely dependent upon her; but it was not a dependence which
+seemed to gall him in the very least. Perhaps he would have been
+unreasonable if it had done so; for his wife, in spite of all her
+faults, was tenderly attached to him, and never loved him better than
+when he asserted his authority over her and her possessions.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell had not been at their pretty white villa for more
+than two months when a second son was born to them. He was baptized
+almost immediately by an English clergyman then passing through the
+place, and received the name of Brian. He was a delicate-looking baby,
+but seemed likely to live and do well. Mrs. Luttrell's recovery was
+unusually rapid; the soft Italian air suited her constitution, and she
+declared her intention of nursing the child herself.
+
+Edward Luttrell was in high spirits. He had been decidedly nervous
+before the event took place, but now that it was safely over he was like
+a boy in his joyous sense of security. He romped with his little son, he
+talked _patois_ with the inhabitants of the neighbouring village of San
+Stefano, he gossiped with the monks of the Benedictine foundation, whose
+settlement occupied a delightful site on the hillside, and no
+premonition of coming evil disturbed his heart. He thought himself the
+most fortunate of men. He adored his wife; he worshipped the baby. His
+whole heart was bound up in his handsome little Dick, who, at five years
+old, was as nearly the image of his father as a child could be. What had
+he left to wish for?
+
+There had been a good deal of fever at San Stefano throughout the
+summer. When the little Brian was barely six weeks old, it became only
+too evident that Mrs. Luttrell was sickening of some illness--probably
+the same fever that had caused so much mortality in the village. The
+baby was hastily taken away from her, and a nurse provided. This nurse
+was a healthy young woman with very thick, black eyebrows and a bright
+colour; handsome, perhaps, but not prepossessing. She was the wife of a
+gardener employed at the villa, and had been recommended by one of the
+Fathers at the monastery--a certain Padre Cristoforo, who seemed to know
+the history of every man, woman and child in San Stefano. She was the
+mother of twins, but this was a fact which the Luttrells did not know.
+
+This woman, Vincenza Vasari by name, was at first domiciled in the villa
+itself with her charge; but as more dangerous symptoms declared
+themselves in Mrs. Luttrell's case, it was thought better that she
+should take the baby to her own home, which was a fairly clean and
+respectable cottage close to the gates of the villa. Here Mr. Luttrell
+could visit the child from time to time; but as his wife's illness
+became more serious he saw less and less of the baby, and left it more
+than ever to Vincenza's care.
+
+Vincenza's own children were with their grandmother at a hamlet three
+miles from San Stefano. The grandmother, generally known as old Assunta,
+used to bring one or another of them sometimes to see Vincenza. Perhaps
+they took the infection of fever in the course of these visits; at any
+rate one of them was soon reported to be seriously ill, and Vincenza was
+cautioned against taking the Luttrells' baby into the village. It was
+the little Lippo Vasari who was ill; his twin-brother Dino was reported
+perfectly well.
+
+Some days afterwards Mr. Luttrell, on calling at the cottage as usual,
+noticed that Vincenza's eyes were red, and her manner odd and abrupt.
+Old Assunta was there, with the baby upon her knee. Mr. Luttrell asked
+what was the matter. Vincenza turned away and burst into tears.
+
+"She has lost her baby, signor," the old woman explained. "The little
+one died last night at the village, and Vincenza could not see it. The
+doctor will tell you about it all," she said, nodding significantly, and
+lowering her voice. "He knows."
+
+Mr. Luttrell questioned the doctor, and received his assurance that
+Vincenza's child (one of the twins) had been kept strictly apart from
+the little Brian Luttrell; and that there could be no danger of
+infection. In which assurance the doctor was perfectly sincere, not
+knowing that Vincenza's habit had been to spend a portion of almost
+every evening at her mother's house, in order to see her own children,
+to whom, however, she did not seem to be passionately attached.
+
+It is to be noted that the Luttrells still learned nothing of the
+existence of the other baby; they fancied that all Vincenza's children
+were dead. Vincenza had thought that the English lady would be
+prejudiced against her if she knew that she was the mother of twins, and
+had left them both to old Assunta's care; so, even when Lippo was laid
+to rest in the churchyard at San Stefano, the little Dino was carefully
+kept in the background and not suffered to appear. Neither Mr. Luttrell
+nor Mrs. Luttrell (until long afterwards) knew that Vincenza had another
+child.
+
+Two months passed before Mrs. Luttrell was sufficiently restored to
+health to be able to see her children. The day came at last when little
+Richard was summoned to her room to kiss a pale woman with great, dark
+eyes, at whom he gazed solemnly, wonderingly, but with a profound
+conviction that his own mamma had gone away and left her place to be
+filled up by somebody else. In point of fact, Mrs. Luttrell's expression
+was curiously changed; and the boy's instinct discovered the change at
+once. There was a restless, wandering look in her large, dark eyes which
+had never been visible in them before her illness, except in moments of
+strong excitement. She did not look like herself.
+
+"I want the baby," she said, when she had kissed little Richard and
+talked to him for a few moments. "Where is my baby?"
+
+Mr. Luttrell came up to her side and answered her.
+
+"The baby is coming, Margaret; Vincenza is bringing him." Then, after a
+pause--"Baby has been ill," he said. "You must be prepared to see a
+great change in him."
+
+She looked at him as if she did not understand.
+
+"What change shall I see?" she said. "Tell Vincenza to make haste,
+Edward. I must see my baby at once; the doctor said I might see him
+to-day."
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Margaret; I'll fetch them," said Mr. Luttrell,
+easily. "Come along, Dick; let us find Vincenza and little brother
+Brian."
+
+He quitted the room, with Dick at his heels. Mrs. Luttrell was left
+alone. But she had not long to wait. Vincenza entered, made a low
+reverence, uttered two or three sentences of congratulation on the
+English signora's recovery, and then placed the baby on Mrs. Luttrell's
+lap.
+
+What happened next nobody ever precisely knew. But in another moment
+Vincenza fled from the room, with her hands to her ears, and her face as
+white as death.
+
+"The signora is mad--mad!" she gasped, as she met Mr. Luttrell in the
+corridor. "She does not know her own child! She says that she will kill
+it! I dare not go to her; she says that her baby is dead, and that that
+one is mine! Mine! mine! Oh, Holy Virgin in Heaven! she says that the
+child is mine!"
+
+Wherewith Vincenza went into strong hysterics, and Mr. Luttrell strode
+hastily towards his wife's room, from which the cries of a child could
+be heard. He found Mrs. Luttrell sitting with the baby on her knee, but
+although the poor little thing was screaming with all its might, she
+vouchsafed it no attention.
+
+"Tell Vincenza to take her wretched child away," she said. "I want my
+own. This is her child; not mine."
+
+Edward Luttrell stood aghast.
+
+"Margaret, what do you mean?" he ejaculated. "Vincenza's child is dead.
+This is our little Brian. You are dreaming."
+
+He did not know whether she understood him or not, but a wild light
+suddenly flashed into her great, dark eyes. She dashed the child down
+upon the bed with the fury of a mad woman.
+
+"You are deceiving me," she cried; "I know that my child is dead. Tell
+me the truth; my child is dead!"
+
+"No such, thing, Margaret," cried Mr. Luttrell, almost angrily; "how can
+you utter such folly?"
+
+But his remonstrance passed unheeded. Mrs. Luttrell had, sunk insensible
+to the floor; and her swoon was followed by a long and serious relapse,
+during which it seemed very unlikely that she would ever awake again to
+consciousness.
+
+The crisis approached. She passed it safely and recovered. Then came the
+tug of war. The little Brian was brought back to the house, with
+Vincenza as his nurse; but Mrs. Luttrell refused to see him. Doctors
+declared her dislike of the child to be a form of mania; her husband
+certainly believed it to be so. But the one fact remained. She would not
+acknowledge the child to be her own, and she would not consent to its
+being brought up as Edward Luttrell's son. Nothing would convince her
+that her own baby still lived, or that this child was not the offspring
+of the Vasari household. Mr. Luttrell expostulated. Vincenza protested
+and shed floods of tears, the doctor, the monks, the English nurse were
+all employed by turn, in the endeavour to soften her heart; but every
+effort was useless. Mrs. Luttrell declared that the baby which Vincenza
+had brought her was not her child, and that she should live and die in
+this conviction.
+
+Was she mad? Or was some wonderful instinct of mother's love at the
+bottom of this obstinate adherence to her opinion?
+
+Mr. Luttrell honestly thought that she was mad. And then, mild man as he
+was, he rose up and claimed his right as her husband to do as he thought
+fit. He sent for his solicitor, a Mr. Colquhoun, through whom he went so
+far even as to threaten his wife with severe measures if she did not
+yield. He would not live with her, he said--or Mr. Colquhoun reported
+that he said--unless she chose to bury her foolish fancy in oblivion.
+There was no doubt in his mind that the child was Brian Luttrell, not
+Lippo Vasari, whose name was recorded on a rough wooden cross in the
+churchyard of San Stefano. And he insisted upon it that his wife should
+receive the child as her own.
+
+It was a long fight, but in the end Mrs. Luttrell had to yield. She
+dismissed Vincenza, and she returned to Scotland with the two children.
+Her husband exacted from her a promise that she would never again speak
+of the wild suspicion that had entered her mind; that under no
+circumstances would she ever let the poor little boy know of the painful
+doubt that had been thrown on his identity. Mrs. Luttrell promised, and
+for three-and-twenty years she kept her word. Perhaps she would not have
+broken it then but for a certain great trouble which fell upon her, and
+which caused a temporary revival of the strange madness which had led
+her to hate the child placed in her arms at San Stefano.
+
+It was not to be wondered at that Edward Luttrell made a favourite of
+his second son in after life. A sense of the injustice done him by his
+mother made the father especially tender to the little Brian; he walked
+with him, talked with him, made a companion of him in every possible
+way. Mrs. Luttrell regained by degrees the cold composure of manner that
+had distinguished her in earlier life: but she could not command herself
+so far as to make a show of affection for her younger son. Brian was a
+very small boy indeed when he found that out. "Mother doesn't love me,"
+he said once to his father, with grieving lips and tear-filled eyes; "I
+wonder why." What could his father do but press him passionately to his
+broad breast and assure him in words of tenderest affection that he
+loved his boy; and that if Brian were good, and true, and brave, his
+mother would love him too! "I will be very good then," said Brian,
+nestling close up to his father's shoulder--for he was a child with
+exceedingly winning ways and a very affectionate disposition--and
+putting one arm round Mr. Luttrell's neck. "But you know she loves
+Richard always--even when he is naughty. And you love me when I'm
+naughty, too." What could Mr. Luttrell say to that?
+
+He died when Brian was fifteen years old; and the last words upon his
+tongue were an entreaty that his wife would never tell the boy of the
+suspicion that had turned her love to him into bitterness. He died, and
+part of the sting of his death to Mrs. Luttrell lay in the fact that he
+died thinking her mad on that one point. The doctors had called her
+conviction "a case of mania," and he had implicitly believed them.
+
+But suppose she had not been mad all the time!
+
+
+II.
+
+In San Stefano life went on tranquilly from month to month and year to
+year. In 1867, Padre Cristoforo of the Benedictine Monastery, looked
+scarcely older than when he picked out a nurse for the Luttrell family
+in 1854. He was a tall man, with a stooping gait and a prominent,
+sagacious chin; deep-set, meditative, dark eyes, and a somewhat fine and
+subtle sort of smile which flickered for a moment at the corner of his
+thin-lipped mouth, and disappeared before you were fully conscience of
+its presence. He was summoned one day from the monastery (where he now
+filled the office of sub-Prior) at the earnest request of an old woman
+who lived in a neighbouring village. She had known him many years
+before, and thought that it would be easier to tell her story to him
+than to a complete stranger. He had received her communication, and
+stood by her pallet with evident concern and astonishment depicted upon
+his face. He held a paper in his hand, at which he glanced from time to
+time as the woman spoke.
+
+"It was not my doing," moaned the old crone. "It was my daughter's. I
+have but told you what she said to me five years ago. She said that she
+did change the children; it was Lippo, indeed, who died, but the child
+whom the English lady took to England with her was Vincenza's little
+Dino; and the boy whom we know as Dino is really the English child. I
+know not whether it is true! Santa Vergine! what more can I say?"
+
+"Why did you not reveal the facts five years ago?" said the Father, with
+some severity of tone.
+
+"I will tell you, Reverend Father. Because Vincenza came to me next day
+and said that she had lied--that the child, Dino, was her own, after
+all, and that she had only wanted to see how much I would believe. What
+was I to do? I do not know which story to believe; that is why I tell
+both stories to you before I die."
+
+"She denied it, then, next day?"
+
+"Yes, Father; but her husband believed it, as you will see by that
+paper. He wrote it down--he could write and read a little, which I could
+never do; and he told me what he had written:--'I, Giovanni Vasari, have
+heard my wife, Vincenza, say that she stole an English gentleman's
+child, and put her own child in its place. I do not know whether this is
+true; but I leave my written word that I was innocent of any such crime,
+and humbly pray to Heaven that she may be forgiven if she committed it.'
+Is that right, Reverend Father? And then his name, and the day and the
+year."
+
+"Quite right," said Padre Cristoforo. "It was written just before
+Giovanni died. The matter cannot possibly be proved without further
+testimony. Where is Vincenza?"'
+
+"Alas, Father, I do not know. Dead, I think, or she would have come back
+to me before now. I have not heard of her since she took a situation as
+maid to a lady in Turin four years ago."
+
+"Why have you told me so useless a story at all, then?" said the father,
+again with some sternness of voice and manner. "Evidently Vincenza was
+fond of romancing; and, probably--probably----" He did not finish his
+sentence; but he was thinking--"Probably the mad fancy of that English
+lady about her child--which I well remember--suggested the story to
+Vincenza as a means of getting money. I wish I had her here."
+
+"I have told you the story, Reverend Father," said the old woman, whose
+voice was growing very weak, "because I know that I am dying, and that
+the boy will be left alone in the world, which is a sad fate for any
+boy, Father, whether he is Vincenza's child or the son of the English
+lady. He is a good lad, Reverend Father, strong, and obedient, and
+patient; if the good Fathers would but take charge of him, and see that
+he is taught a trade, or put to some useful work! He would be no burden
+to you, my poor, little Dino!"
+
+For a moment the Benedictine's eyes flashed with a quick fire; then he
+looked down and stood perfectly still, with his hands folded and his
+head bent. A new idea had darted across his mind. Did the story that he
+had just heard offer him no opportunity of advancing the interests of
+his Order and of his Church?
+
+He turned as if to ask another question, but he was too late. Old
+Assunta was fast falling into the stupor that is but the precursor of
+death. He called her attendant, and waited for a time to see whether
+consciousness was likely to return. But he waited in vain. Assunta said
+nothing more.
+
+The boy of whom she had spoken came and wept at her bed-side, and Padre
+Cristoforo observed him curiously. He was well worthy of the monk's
+gaze. He was light and supple in figure, perfectly formed, with a clear
+brown skin and a face such as one sees in early Italian paintings of
+angelic singing-boys--a face with broad, serious brows, soft, oval
+cheeks, curved lips, and delightfully dimpled chin. He had large, brown
+eyes and a mass of tangled, curling hair. The priest noted that his
+slender limbs were graceful as those of a young fawn, that his hands and
+feet were small and well shaped, and that his appearance betokened
+perfect health--a slight spareness and sharpness of outline being the
+only trace which poverty seemed to have left upon him.
+
+The sub-Prior of San Stefano saw these things; and meditated upon
+certain possibilities in the future. He went next day to old Assunta's
+funeral, and laid his hand on Dino's shoulder as the boy was turning
+disconsolately from his grandmother's grave.
+
+"My child," he said, gently, "you are alone."
+
+"Yes, Father," said Dino, with a stifled sob.
+
+"Will you come with me to the monastery? I think we can find you a home.
+You have nowhere to go, poor child, and you will be weary and hungry
+before long. Will you come?"
+
+"There is nothing in the world that I should like so well!" cried the
+boy, ardently.
+
+"Come then," said the Padre, with one of his subtle smiles. "We will go
+together."
+
+He held out his hand, in which Dino gladly laid his hot and trembling
+fingers. Then the monk and the boy set out on the three miles walk which
+lay between them and the monastery.
+
+On their arrival, Padre Cristoforo left the boy in the cool cloisters
+whilst he sought the Prior--a dignitary whose permission would be needed
+before Dino would be allowed to stay. There was a school in connection
+with the monastery, but it was devoted chiefly to the training of young
+priests, and it was not probable that a peasant like Dino Vasari would
+be admitted to the ranks of these budding ecclesiastics. The Prior
+thought that old Assunta's grandchild would make a good helper for
+Giacomo, the dresser of the vines.
+
+"Does that not satisfy you?" said Padre Cristoforo, in a rather peculiar
+tone, when he had carried this proposal to Dino, and seen the boy's face
+suddenly fall, and his eyes fill with tears.
+
+"The Reverend Fathers are very good," said Dino, in a somewhat
+embarrassed fashion, "and I will do all that I can to serve them, and,
+if I could also learn to read and write--and listen to the music in the
+chapel sometimes--I would work for them all the days of my life."
+
+Padre Cristoforo smiled.
+
+"You shall have your wish, my child," he said, kindly. "You shall go to
+the school--not to the vine-dressers. You shall be our son now."
+
+But Dino looked up at him timidly.
+
+"And not the English lady's?" he said.
+
+"What do you know about an English lady, my son?"
+
+"My grandmother talked to me of her. Is it true? She said that I might,
+turn out to be an Englishman, after all. She said that Vincenza told her
+that I did not belong to her."
+
+"My child," said the monk, calmly but firmly, "put these thoughts away
+from your mind. They are idle and vain imaginations. Assunta knew
+nothing; Vincenza did not always speak the truth. In any case, it is
+impossible to prove the truth of her story. It is a sin to let your mind
+dwell on the impossible. Your name is Bernardino Vasari, and you are to
+be brought up in the monastery of San Stefano by wise and pious men. Is
+that not happiness enough for you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, indeed; I wish for nothing else," said Dino, throwing
+himself at Padre Cristoforo's feet, and pressing his lips to the monk's
+black gown, while the tears poured down his smooth, olive cheeks.
+"Indeed I am not ungrateful, Reverend Father, and I will never wish to
+be anything but what you want me to be."
+
+"Better so," soliloquised the Father, when he had comforted Dino with
+kind words, and led him away to join the companions that would
+henceforth be his; "better that he should not wish to rise above the
+station in which he has been brought up! We shall never prove Vincenza's
+story. If we could do that, we should be abundantly recompensed for
+training this lad in the doctrines of the Church--but it will never be.
+Unless, indeed, the woman Vincenza could be found and urged to
+confession. But that," said the monk, with a regretful sigh, "that is
+not likely to occur. And, therefore, the boy will be Dino Vasari, as far
+as I can see, to his life's end. And Vincenza's child is living in the
+midst of a rich English family under the name of Brian Luttrell. I must
+not forget the name. In days to come who knows whether the positions of
+these two boys may not be reversed?"
+
+Thus mused Father Cristoforo, and then he smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Vincenza was always a liar," he said to himself. "It is the most
+unlikely thing in the world that her story should be true."
+
+END OF THE PROLOGUE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+BY THE LOCH.
+
+
+"It is you who have been the thief, then?"
+
+The question was uttered in tones of withering contempt. The criminal,
+standing before his judge with downcast face and nervously-twitching
+fingers, found not a word to reply.
+
+"Answer me," said Richard Luttrell, imperatively. "Tell me the
+truth--or, by Heaven, I'll thrash you within an inch of your life, and
+make you speak! Did you, or did you not, take this money out of my
+strong-box?"
+
+"I meant to put it back," faltered the culprit. He was a slender lad of
+twenty, with the olive skin, the curling jet-black hair, the
+liquid-brown eyes, which marked his descent from a southern race. The
+face was one of singular beauty. The curved lips, the broad brow on
+which the dusky hair grew low, the oval cheek and rounded chin might
+well have served for the impersonation of some Spanish beggar-boy or
+Neapolitan fisher-lad. They were of the subtilely sensuous type,
+expressive of passion rather than of intellect or will. At present, with
+the usual rich, ripe colour vanished from cheek and lips, with eyes
+downcast, and trembling hands dropped to his sides, he was a picture of
+embodied shame and fear which his cousin and guardian, Richard Luttrell,
+regarded with unmitigated disgust.
+
+Luttrell himself was a man of very different fibre. Tall, strong,
+fiercely indignant, he towered over the youth as if he could willingly
+have smitten him to the earth. He was a fine-looking, broad-shouldered
+man of twenty-eight, with strongly-marked features, browned by exposure
+to the sun and wind. The lower part of his face was almost hidden by a
+crisp chestnut beard and moustache, whilst his eyes were of the reddish
+hazel tint which often denotes heat of temper. The fire which now shot
+from beneath the severely knitted brows might indeed have dismayed a
+person of stouter heart than Hugo Luttrell. The youth showed no signs of
+penitence; he was thoroughly dismayed and alarmed by the position in
+which he found himself, but that was all.
+
+The scene of their interview was hardly in accordance with its painful
+character. The three men--for there was another whom we have not
+attempted to describe--stood on the border of a small loch, the tranquil
+waters of which came lapping almost to their feet as they spoke
+together. The grassy shores were fringed with alder and rowan-trees.
+Above the heads of the speakers waved the branches of a great Scotch
+fir, the outpost and sentinel, as it were, of an army of its brethren,
+standing discreetly a few yards away from the banks of the loch. Richard
+Luttrell's house, though not far distant, was out of sight; and the one
+little, grey-stone cottage which could be seen had no windows fronting
+the water. It was a spot, therefore, in which a prolonged conversation
+could be carried on without much fear of disturbance. Beyond the trees,
+and on each side of the loch, were ranged the silent hills; their higher
+crags purple in the sunlight, brown and violet in shadow. The tints of
+the heather were beginning to glow upon the moors; on the lower-lying
+slopes a mass of foliage showed its first autumnal colouring; here and
+there a field of yellow stubble gave a dash of almost dazzling
+brightness to the landscape, under the cloudless azure of a September
+sky. Hills, woods, and firmament were alike reflected with mirror-like
+distinctness in the smooth bosom of the loch, where little, brown ducks
+swam placidly amongst the weeds, and swallows skimmed and dipped and
+flew in happy ignorance of the ruin that guilt and misery can work in
+the lives of men.
+
+Richard Luttrell stood with his back towards the open door of a large
+wooden shed used as a boat-house, the interior of which looked densely
+black by contrast with the brilliant sunlight on the green grass and
+trees outside it. An open box or two, a heap, of fishing tackle, a
+broken oar, could be seen but dimly from without. It was in one of these
+boxes that Richard Luttrell had made, early in the day, a startling
+discovery. He had come across a pocket-book which had been abstracted
+from his strong-box in a most mysterious way about a week before. On
+opening it, he found, not only certain bank-notes which he had missed,
+but some marked coins and a cornelian seal which had disappeared on
+previous occasions, proving that a system of robbery had been carried on
+by one and the same person--evidently a member of the Luttrell
+household. The spoil was concealed with great care in a locked box on a
+shelf, and but for an accidental stumble by which Luttrell had brought
+down the whole shelf and broken the box itself, it would probably have
+remained there undisturbed. No one would ever have dreamt of seeking for
+Luttrell's pocket-book in a box in the boat-house.
+
+"How did this get here? Who keeps the second key of the boat-house?"
+demanded Richard in the first moment of his discovery.
+
+And Brian, his younger brother, answered carelessly--
+
+"Hugo has had it for the last week or two."
+
+Then, disturbed by his brother's tone, he came to Richard's side and
+looked at the fragments of the box by which Richard was still kneeling.
+With an exclamation of surprise he took up the lid of the box and
+examined it carefully. The name of its owner had been printed in ink on
+the smooth, brown surface--Hugo Luttrell. And the stolen property was
+hidden in that little wooden box.
+
+The exclamations of the two brothers were characteristic. Richard raised
+himself with the pocket-book in his hand, and said vehemently--
+
+"The young scoundrel! He shall rue it!"
+
+While Brian, looking shocked and grieved, sat down on the stump of a
+tree and muttered, "Poor lad!" between his teeth, as he contemplated the
+miserable fragments on the ground.
+
+The sound of a bell came faintly to their ears through the clear morning
+air. Richard spoke sharply.
+
+"We must leave the matter for the present. Don't say anything about it.
+Lock up the boat-house, Brian, and keep the key. We'll have Hugo down
+here after breakfast, and see whether he'll make a clean breast of it."
+
+"He may know nothing at all about it," suggested Brian, rising from his
+seat.
+
+"It is to be hoped so," said Luttrell, curtly. He walked out of the
+boat-house with frowning brows and sparkling eyes. "I know one thing--my
+roof won't shelter him any longer if he is guilty." And then he marched
+away to the house, leaving Brian to lock the door and follow at his
+ease.
+
+That morning's breakfast was long remembered in the Luttrells' house as
+a period of vague and curious discomfort. The reddish light in Richard's
+eyes was well known for a danger signal; a storm was in the air when he
+wore that expression of suppressed emotion. Brian, a good deal disturbed
+by what had occurred, scarcely spoke at all; he sat with his eyes fixed
+on the table, forgetting to eat, and glancing only from time to time at
+Hugo's young, beautiful, laughing face, as the lad talked gaily to a
+visitor, or fed the dogs--privileged inmates of the dining-room--with
+morsels from his own plate. It was impossible to think that this
+handsome boy, just entering on the world, fresh from a military college,
+with a commission in the Lancers, should have chosen to rob the very man
+who had been his benefactor and friend, whose house had sheltered him
+for the last ten years of his life. What could he have wanted with this
+money? Luttrell made him a handsome allowance, had paid his bills more
+than once, provided his outfit, put all the resources of his home at
+Hugo's disposal, as if he had been a son of the house instead of a
+penniless dependent--had, in short, behaved to him with a generosity
+which Brian might have resented had he been of a resentful disposition,
+seeing that he himself had been much less liberally treated. But Brian
+never concerned himself about that view of the matter; only now, when he
+suspected Hugo of dishonesty and ingratitude, did he run over in his
+mind a list of the benefits which the boy had received for many years
+from the master of the house, and grow indignant at the enumeration. Was
+it possible that Hugo could be guilty? He had not been truthful as a
+schoolboy, Brian remembered; once or twice he had narrowly escaped
+public disgrace for some dishonourable act--dishonourable in the eyes of
+his companions, as well as of his masters--a fact which was not to
+Hugo's credit. Perhaps, however, there was now some mistake--perhaps the
+matter might be cleared up. Appearances were against him, but Hugo might
+yet vindicate his integrity----
+
+Brian's meditations were interrupted at this point. His brother had
+risen from the breakfast-table and was addressing Hugo, with a great
+show of courtesy, but with the stern light in his eyes which always made
+those who knew him best be on their guard with Richard Luttrell. "If you
+are at liberty," he said, "I want you down at the boat-house. I am going
+there now."
+
+Brian, who was watching his cousin, saw a sudden change in his face. His
+lips turned white, his eyes moved uneasily in their sockets. It seemed
+almost as if he glanced backwards and forwards in order to look for a
+way of escape. But no escape was possible. Richard stood waiting,
+severe, inflexible, with that ominous gleam in his eyes. Hugo rose and
+followed like a dog at his master's call. From the moment that Brian
+marked his sullen, hang-dog expression and drooping head, he gave up his
+hope of proving Hugo's innocence. He would gladly have absented himself
+from the interview, but Richard summoned him in a voice that admitted of
+no delay.
+
+The lad's own face and words betrayed him when he was shown the
+pocket-book and the broken box. He stammered out excuses, prevaricated,
+lied; until at last Luttrell lost all patience, and insisted upon a
+definite reply to his question. And then Hugo muttered his last
+desperate self-justification--that he had "meant to put it back!"
+
+Richard's stalwart figure, the darkness of his brow, the strong hand in
+which he was swinging a heavy hunting-crop--caught up, as he left the
+house, for no decided purpose, but disagreeably significant in Hugo's
+eyes--became doubly terrible to the lad during the interval of silence
+that followed his avowal. He glanced supplicatingly at Brian; but Brian
+had no aid to give him now. And, when Brian's help failed him, Hugo felt
+that all was lost.
+
+Meanwhile, Brian himself, a little in the back ground, leaned against
+the trunk of a tree which grew close to the shallow water's edge, bent
+his eyes upon the ground and tried to see the boy's face as little as
+possible. His affection for Hugo had given him an influence over the lad
+which Richard had certainly never possessed. For, generous as Richard
+might be, he was not fond of his young cousin; and Hugo, being aware of
+this fact, regarded him with instinctive aversion. In his own fashion he
+did love Brian--a little bit!
+
+Brian Luttrell was at this time barely three-and-twenty. He had rooms in
+London, where he was supposed to be reading for the bar, but his tastes
+were musical and literary, and he had not yet made much progress in his
+legal studies. He had a handsome, intellectual face of a very refined
+type, thoughtful dark eyes, a long, brown moustache, and small pointed
+beard of the same colour. He was slighter, less muscular, than Richard;
+and the comment often made upon him was that he had the look of a
+dreamer, perhaps of an artist--not of a very practical man--and that he
+was extremely unlike his brother. There was, indeed, a touch of unusual
+and almost morbid sensitiveness in Brian's nature, which, betraying
+itself, as it did, from time to time, only by a look, a word, a gesture,
+yet proved his unlikeness to Richard Luttrell more than any
+dissimilarity of feature could have done.
+
+"You meant to put it back, sir!" thundered Richard, after that moment's
+pause, which seemed like an eternity to Hugo. "And where did you mean to
+get the money from? Steal it from some one else? Folly! lies! And for
+what disgraceful reason did you take it at all? You are in debt, I
+presume?"
+
+Hugo's white lips signified assent.
+
+"You have been gambling again?"
+
+He bowed his head.
+
+"I thought so. I told you three months ago that I had paid your gambling
+debts for the last time. I make one exception. I will pay them once
+again--with the money you have stolen, which you may keep. Much good may
+it do you!" He flung the pocket-book on the turf at Hugo's feet as he
+spoke. "Take it. You have paid dearly enough for it, God knows. For the
+future, sir, manage your own affairs; my house is no longer open to
+you."
+
+"Don't be hard on him, Richard," said Brian, in a voice too low to reach
+Hugo's ears. "Forgive him this time; he is only a boy, after all--and a
+boy with a bad training."
+
+"Will you be so good as to mind your own business, Brian?" said the
+elder brother, peremptorily. The severity of his tone increased as he
+addressed himself again to Hugo. "You will leave Netherglen to-day. Your
+luggage can be sent after you; give your own directions about it. I
+suppose you will rejoin your regiment? I neither know nor care what you
+mean to do. If we meet again, we meet as strangers."
+
+"Willingly," said Hugo, lifting his eyes for one instant to his cousin's
+face, with an expression so full of brooding hatred and defiance that
+even Richard Luttrell was amazed.
+
+"For Heaven's sake don't say that, Hugo," began the second brother, with
+a hasty desire to pave the way for reconciliation.
+
+"Why not?" said Hugo.
+
+The look of abject fear was dying out of his face. The worst, he
+thought, was over. He drew himself up, crossed his arms, and tried to
+meet Brian's reproachful eyes with confidence, but in this attempt he
+was not successful. In spite of himself, the eyelids dropped until the
+long, black lashes almost touched the smooth, olive cheek, across which
+passed a transient flush of shame. This sign of feeling touched Brian;
+the lad was surely not hopelessly bad if he could blush for his sins.
+But Richard went on ruthlessly.
+
+"You need expect no further help from me. I own you as a relation no
+longer. You have disgraced the name you bear. Don't let me see you again
+in my house." He was too indignant, too much excited, to speak in
+anything but short, sharp sentences, each of which seemed more bitter
+than the last. Richard Luttrell was little concerned for Hugo's welfare,
+much for the honour of the family. "Go," he said, "at once, and I will
+not publish your shameful conduct to the world. If you return to my
+house, if you seek to establish any communication with members of my
+family, I shall not keep your secret."
+
+"Speak for yourself, Richard," said his brother, warmly, "not for me. I
+hope that Hugo will do better in time; and I don't mean to give him up.
+You must make an exception for me when you speak of separating him from
+the family."
+
+"I make no exception," said Richard.
+
+Brian drew nearer to his brother, and uttered his next words in a lower
+tone.
+
+"Think what you are doing," he said. "You will drive him to desperation,
+and, after all, he is only a boy of nineteen. Quite young enough to
+repent and reform, if we are not too hard upon him now. Do as you think
+fit for yourself and your own household, but you must not stand in the
+way of what I can do for him, little though that may be."
+
+"I stand to what I have said," answered Richard, harshly. "I will have
+no communication between him and you." Then, folding his arms, he looked
+grimly and sardonically into Brian's face. "I trust neither of you," he
+said. "We all know that you are only too easily led by those whom you
+like to be led by, and he is a young reprobate. Choose for yourself, of
+course; I have no claim to control you, only, if you choose to be
+friendly with him, I shall cut off the supplies to you as well as to
+him, and I shall expose him publicly."
+
+Brian took away the hand which, in the ardour of his pleading, he had
+laid upon Richard's arm. Had it not been for Hugo's sake, he would have
+quitted the spot in dudgeon. He knew in his heart that it was useless to
+argue with Richard in his present state of passion. But for Hugo's sake
+he swallowed his resentment, and made one more trial.
+
+"If he repents----" he began doubtfully, and never finished the
+sentence.
+
+"I don't repent," said Hugo.
+
+His voice was hoarse and broken, but insolently defiant. By a great
+effort of will he fixed his haggard eyes full on Richard Luttrell's face
+as he spoke. Richard shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You hear?" he said, briefly to his brother.
+
+"I hear," Brian answered, in a low, pained tone.
+
+With an air of bravado Hugo stooped and picked up the pocket-book which
+still lay at his feet. He weighed it in his hand, and then laughed
+aloud, though not very steadily.
+
+"It is full still," he said. "It will be useful, no doubt. I am much
+obliged to you, Cousin Richard."
+
+The action, and the words accompanying it, shocked even Richard, who
+professed to think nothing too bad for Hugo's powers. He tossed his head
+back and turned away with a contemptuous "Good Heavens!" Brian walked
+for a few paces distance, and then stood still, with his back to his
+cousin. Hugo glanced from one to the other with uneasiness, which he
+tried to veil by an assumption of disdain, and dropped the purse
+furtively into his pocket. He was ill-pleased to see Richard turn back
+with lowered eyebrows, and a look of stern determination upon his
+bearded face.
+
+"Brian," said Luttrell, more quietly than he had yet spoken, "I think I
+see mother coming down the road. Will you meet her and lead her away
+from the loch, without telling her the reason? I don't wish her to meet
+this--this gentleman--again."
+
+The intonation of his voice, the look that he bestowed upon Hugo at the
+words that he emphasised, made the lad quiver from head to foot with
+rage. Brian walked away without turning to bestow another glance or word
+on Hugo. It was a significant action, and one which the young fellow
+felt, with a throb of mingled shame and hatred, that he could
+understand. He clenched his hands until the dent of the nails brought
+blood, without knowing what he did; then made a step or two in another
+direction, as if to leave the place. Richard's commanding voice made him
+pause.
+
+"Stop!" said Luttrell. "Wait until I give you leave to go."
+
+Hugo waited, with his face turned towards the shining waters of the
+loch. The purple mist amongst the distant hills, the golden light upon
+the rippling water, the reddening foliage of the trees, had never been
+more beautiful than they were that morning. But their beauty was lost
+upon Hugo, whose mind was filled with hard and angry protests against
+the treatment that he was receiving, and a great dread of the somewhat
+desolate future.
+
+Richard Luttrell moved about restlessly, stopping short, now and then,
+to watch the figure in black which he had discerned upon the road near
+the house. He saw Brian meet it; the two stood and spoke together for a
+few minutes; then Brian gave his arm to his mother and led her back to
+the house. When they were quite out of sight, Luttrell turned back to
+his cousin and spoke again.
+
+"Now that I have got Brian out of the way," he said, as he laid an iron
+hand on Hugo's arm, "I am free to punish you as I choose. Mind, I would
+have spared you this if you had not had the insufferable insolence to
+pick up that pocket-book in my presence. Since you were shameless enough
+for that, it is plain what sort of chastisement you deserve. Take
+that--and that--and that!"
+
+He lifted his hunting-crop as he spoke, and brought it down heavily on
+the lad's shoulders. Hugo uttered a cry like that of a wild animal in
+pain, and fought with hands, feet, teeth even, against the infliction of
+the stinging blows; but he fought in vain. His cousin's superior
+strength mastered him from the beginning; he felt like an infant in
+Richard's powerful grasp. Not until the storm of furious imprecations in
+which the lad at first vented his impotent rage had died away into
+stifled moans and sobs of pain, did Richard's vengeance come to an end.
+He flung the boy from him, broke the whip between his strong hands, and
+hurled the fragments far into the water, then walked away to the house,
+leaving Hugo to sob his heart out, like a passionate child, with face
+down in the short, green grass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HUGO LUTTRELL.
+
+
+Hugo's Sicilian mother had transmitted to him a nature at once fierce
+and affectionate, passionate and cunning. Half-child, half-savage, he
+seemed to be bound by none of the restraints that civilised men early
+learn to place upon their instincts. He expressed his anger, his sorrow,
+his love, with all the abandon that characterised the natives of those
+sunny shores where the first years of his life were spent. Profoundly
+simple in his modes of feeling, he was yet dominated by the habits of
+slyness and trickery which seem to be inherent in the truly savage
+breast. He had the savage's love of secrecy and instinctive suspicion of
+his fellow-creatures, the savage's swift passions and vindictiveness,
+the savage's innate difficulty in comprehending the laws of honour and
+morality. It is possible to believe that, with good training from his
+infancy, Hugo Luttrell might have developed into a trustworthy and
+straightforward man, shrinking from dishonesty and cowardice as infamy
+worse than death; but his early education had been of a kind likely to
+foster every vice that he possessed. His father, a cousin of the
+Luttrells of Netherglen, after marrying a lovely Palermitan, and living
+for three years with her in her native land, had at last tired of her
+transports of love and jealousy, and started upon an exploring
+expedition in South Africa. Hugo was brought up by a mother who adored
+him and taught him to loathe the English race. He was surrounded by
+flatterers and sycophants from his babyhood, and treated as if he were
+born to a kingdom. When he was twelve years old, however, his mother
+died; and his father, on learning her death some months afterwards, made
+it his business to fetch the boy away from Sicily and bring him to
+England. But Hugh Luttrell, the father, was already a dying man. The
+seeds of disease had been developed during his many journeyings; he was
+far gone in consumption before he even reached the English shores. His
+own money was nearly spent. There was a law-suit about the estates
+belonging to his wife's father, and it was scarcely probable that they
+would devolve upon Hugo, who had cousins older than himself and dearer
+to the Sicilian grandfather's heart. The dying man turned in his
+extremity to the young head of the house, Richard Luttrell, then only
+twenty-one years of age, and did not turn in vain. Richard Luttrell
+undertook the charge of the boy, and as soon as the father was laid in
+the grave, he took Hugo home with him to Netherglen.
+
+Richard Luttrell could hardly have treated Hugo more generously than he
+did, but it must be confessed that he never liked the boy. The faults
+which were evident from the first day of his entrance into the
+Luttrells' home, were such as disgusted and repelled the somewhat
+austere young ruler of the household. Hugo pilfered, lied, cringed,
+stormed, in turn, like a veritable savage. He was sent to school, and
+learned the wisdom of keeping his tongue silent, and his evil deeds
+concealed, but he did not learn to amend his ways. In spite of his
+frequent misconduct, he had some qualities which endeared him to the
+hearts of those whom he cared to conciliate. His _naivete_, his
+caressing ways, his beautiful, delicate face and appealing eyes, were
+not without effect even upon the severest of his judges. Owing, perhaps,
+to these attributes rather than to any positive merit of his own, he
+scrambled through life at school, at a tutor's, at a military college,
+without any irreparable disgrace, his aptitude for getting into scrapes
+being equalled only by his cleverness in getting out of them. Richard,
+indeed, had at times received reports of his conduct which made him
+speak angrily and threaten condign punishment, but not until this day,
+when the discovery of the lost bank-notes in Hugo's possession betokened
+an absence of principle transcending even Richard's darkest
+anticipations, had any serious breach occurred between the cousins. With
+some men, the fact that it was the first grave offence would have had
+weight, and inclined them to be merciful to the offender, but Richard
+Luttrell was not a merciful man. When he discovered wrong-doing, he
+punished it with the utmost severity, and never trusted the culprit
+again. He had been known to say, in boasting accents, that he did not
+understand what forgiveness meant. Forgiveness of injuries? Weakness of
+mind: that was his opinion.
+
+Hugo Luttrell's nature was also not a forgiving one. He lay upon the
+grass, writhing, sobbing, tearing at the ground in an access of passion
+equally composed of rage and shame. He had almost lost the remembrance
+of his own offence in resentment of its punishment. He had been struck;
+he had been insulted; he, a Sicilian gentleman! (Hugo never thought of
+himself as an Englishman.) He loathed Richard Luttrell; he muttered
+curses upon him as he lay on the earth, with every bone aching from his
+cousin's blows; he wished that he could wipe out the memory of the
+affront in Richard's blood. Richard would laugh at a challenge; a duel
+was not the English method of settling quarrels. "I will punish him in
+another way; it is a _vendetta_!" said Hugo to himself, choking down his
+passionate, childish sobs. "He is a brute--a great, savage brute; he
+does not deserve to live!"
+
+He was too much absorbed in his reflections to notice a footstep on the
+grass beside him, and the rustle of a woman's dress. Some one had drawn
+near, and was looking pityingly, wonderingly, down upon the slight,
+boyish form that still shook and quivered with irrepressible emotion. A
+woman's voice sounded in his ear. "Hugo!" it said; "Hugo, what is the
+matter?"
+
+With a start he lifted his head, showed a flushed, tear-swollen
+countenance for one moment, and then hid it once more in his hands. "Oh,
+Angela, Angela!" he cried; and then the hysterical passion mastered him
+once more. He could not speak for sobs.
+
+She knelt down beside him and placed one hand soothingly upon his
+ruffled, black locks. For a few minutes she also did not speak. She knew
+that he could not hear.
+
+The world was not wrong when it called Angela Vivian a beautiful woman,
+although superfine critics objected that her features were not perfect,
+and that her hair, her eyes, her complexion, were all too colourless for
+beauty. But her great charm lay in the harmonious character of her
+appearance. To deepen the tint of that soft, pale hair--almost
+ash-coloured, with a touch of gold in the heavy coils--to redden her
+beautifully-shaped mouth, and her narrow, oval face, to imagine those
+sweet, calm, grey eyes of any more definite shade would have been to
+make her no longer the Angela Vivian that so many people knew and loved.
+But if fault were found with her face, no exception could be taken to
+her figure and the grace with which she moved. There, at least, she was
+perfect.
+
+Angela Vivian was twenty-three, and still unmarried. It was said that
+she had been difficult to please. But her choice was made at last. She
+was to be married to Richard Luttrell before the end of the year. They
+had been playmates in childhood, and their parents had been old friends.
+Angela was now visiting Mrs. Luttrell, who was proud of her son's
+choice, and made much of her as a guest at Netherglen.
+
+She spoke to Hugo as a sister might have done.
+
+"What is it, dear?" she asked him, smoothing out his short, dark curls,
+as she spoke. "Can't you tell me? Is it some great trouble?"
+
+For answer he dragged himself a little closer to her, and bowed his hot
+forehead on one of her hands, which she was resting on the ground, while
+she stroked his hair with the other. The action touched her; she did not
+know why. His sobs were quietening. He was by no means very manly, as
+English people understand manliness, but even he was ashamed to be found
+crying like a baby over his woes.
+
+"Dear Hugo, can you not tell me what is wrong?" said Angela, more
+seriously alarmed by his silence than by his tears. She had a right to
+question him, for he had previously given her as much of his confidence
+as he ever gave to anybody, and she had been a very good friend to him.
+"Are you in some great trouble?"
+
+"Yes," he said, in a voice so choked that she could hardly hear the
+word.
+
+"And you have been in some scuffle surely. Your clothes are torn--you
+are hurt!" said she, sympathetically. "Why, Hugo, you must have been
+fighting!" Then, as he gave her no answer, she resumed in a voice of
+tender concern, "You are not really hurt, are you, dear boy? You can
+move--you can get up? Shall I fetch anyone to help you?"
+
+"No, no, no!" he cried, clutching at her dress, as though to stay her
+going. "Don't leave me. I am not hurt--at least, I can walk and stand
+easily enough, though I have been hurt--set upon, and treated like--like
+a dog by him----"
+
+"By whom, Hugo?" said Angela, startled by the tenor of his incoherent
+sentences. "Who has set upon you and ill-treated you?"
+
+But Hugo hid his face. "I won't tell you," he said, sullenly.
+
+There was a silence. "Can I do anything for you?" Angela asked at
+length, very gently.
+
+"No."
+
+She waited a little longer, and, as he made no further sign, she tried
+to rise. "Shall I go, Hugo?" she said.
+
+"Yes--if you like." Then he burst out passionately, "Of course, you will
+go. You are like everybody else. You are like Richard Luttrell. You will
+do what he tells you. I am abandoned by everybody. You all hate me; and
+I hate you all!"
+
+Little as Angela understood his words, there was something in them that
+made her seat herself beside him on the grass, instead of leaving him
+alone. "Dear Hugo," she said, "I have never hated you."
+
+"But you will soon."
+
+"I see," said she, softly. "I understand you now. You are in
+trouble--you have been doing something wrong, and you think that we
+shall be angry with you. Listen, Hugo, Richard maybe angry at first, but
+he is kind as well as just. He will forgive you, and we shall love you
+as much as ever. I will tell him that you are sorry for whatever it is,
+and then he will not refuse his pardon."
+
+"I don't want it," said Hugo, hoarsely. "I hate him."
+
+"Hugo!"
+
+"I hate him--I loathe him. You would hate him, too, if you knew him as
+well as I do. You are going to marry him! Well, you will be miserable
+all your life long, and then you will remember what I say."
+
+"I should be angry with you if I did not know how little you meant
+this," said Angela, in an unruffled voice, although the faint colour had
+risen to her cheeks, and her eyes looked feverishly bright. "But you are
+not like yourself, Hugo; you are distressed about something. You know,
+at least, that we do not hate you, and you do not hate us."
+
+"I do not hate you," said Hugo, with emphasis.
+
+He seized a fold of her dress and pressed it to his lips. But he said
+nothing more, and by-and-bye, when she gently disengaged her gown from
+his hold, he made no opposition to her going. She left him with
+reluctance, but she knew that Mrs. Luttrell would want her at that hour,
+and did not like to be kept waiting. She glanced back when she reached
+the bend in the road that would hide him from her sight. She saw that he
+had resumed his former position, with his head bent upon his arms, and
+his face hidden.
+
+"Poor Hugo!" she said to herself, as she turned towards the house.
+
+Netherglen was a quaint-looking, irregular building of grey, stone, not
+very large, but considerably larger than its appearance led one to
+conjecture, from the fact that a wing had been added at the back of the
+house, where it was not immediately apparent. The peculiarity of this
+wing was that, although built close to the house, it did not actually
+touch it except at certain points where communication with the main part
+was necessary; the rooms on the outer wing ran parallel for some
+distance with those in the house, but were separated by an interval of
+one or two feet. This was a precaution taken, it was said, in order to
+deaden the noise made by the children when they were in the nurseries
+situated in this part of the house. It had certainly been an effectual
+one; it was difficult to hear any sound proceeding from these rooms,
+even when one stood in the large central hall from which the
+sitting-rooms opened.
+
+Angela was anxious to find Richard and ascertain whether or not he was
+really seriously incensed against his cousin, but he was not to be
+found. A party of guests had arrived unexpectedly for luncheon; Mrs.
+Luttrell and Brian were both busily engaged in entertaining them. Angela
+glanced at Brian; it struck her that he was not in his usual good
+spirits. But she had no chance of asking him if anything were amiss.
+
+The master of the house arrived in time to take his place at the head of
+the table, and from the moment of his arrival, Angela was certain that
+he had been, if he were not still, seriously annoyed by some occurrence
+of the day. She knew his face very well, and she knew the meaning of the
+gleam of his eye underneath the lowered eyebrows, the twitching nostril,
+and the grim setting of his mouth. He spoke very little, and did not
+smile even when he glanced at her. These were ominous signs.
+
+"Where is Hugo?" demanded Mrs. Luttrell as they seated themselves at the
+table. "Have you seen him, Brian?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him down by the loch this morning," said Brian, but without
+raising his eyes.
+
+"The bell had better be rung outside the house," said Mrs. Luttrell. "It
+can be heard quite well on the loch."
+
+"It is unnecessary, mother," said Richard, promptly. "Hugo is not coming
+in to lunch."
+
+There was a momentary flash of his eye as he spoke, which convinced
+Angela that Hugo's disgrace was to be no transient one. Her heart sank;
+she did not find that Richard's wrath was easy to appease when once
+thoroughly aroused. Again she looked at Brian, and it seemed to her that
+his face was paler and more sombre than she had ever seen it before.
+
+The brothers were usually on such pleasant terms that their silence to
+each other during the meal became a matter of remark to others beside
+Angela and Mrs. Luttrell. Had they quarrelled? There was an evident
+coolness between them; for, on the only occasion on which they addressed
+each other, Richard contemptuously contradicted his brother with
+insulting directness, and Brian replied with what for him was decided
+warmth. But the matter dropped--perhaps each was ashamed of having
+manifested his annoyance in public--and only their silence to each other
+betrayed that anything was wrong.
+
+The party separated into three portions after luncheon. Mrs. Luttrell
+and a lady of her own age agreed to remain indoors, or to stroll quietly
+round the garden. Angela and two or three other young people meant to
+get out the boat and fish the loch for pike. Richard and a couple of his
+friends were going to shoot in the neighbouring woods. And, while these
+arrangements were making, and everybody was standing about the hall, or
+in the wide porch which opened out into the garden, Hugo's name was
+again mentioned.
+
+"What has become of that boy?" said Mrs. Luttrell. "He is not generally
+so late. Richard, do you know?"
+
+"I'll tell you afterwards, mother," answered her son, in a low tone.
+"Don't say anything more about him just now."
+
+"Is there anything wrong?" said his mother, also lowering her voice. But
+he had turned away.
+
+"Brian, what is it?" she asked, impatiently.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't ask Brian," said Richard, looking back over
+his shoulder, "there is no knowing what he may not require you to
+believe. Leave the story to me."
+
+"I've no desire to tell it," replied Brian, moving away.
+
+Luttrell's friends were already outside the hall door, lighting their
+cigars and playing with the dogs. A keeper stood in the background,
+waiting until the party should start.
+
+"Aren't you coming, Brian?" said one of the young men.
+
+"I'll join you presently," said Brian. "I am going down to the loch
+first to get out the boat."
+
+"What a splendid gun that is of yours!" said Archie Grant, the younger
+of the two men. "It is yours, is it not? I saw it in the corner of the
+hall as I came in. You had it the other day at the Duke's."
+
+"It was not mine. It belongs to Hugo."
+
+"Let me have a look at it again; it's an awfully fine one."
+
+"Are you ready, Grant?" said Richard Luttrell, coming forward. "What are
+you looking for?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; a gun," said the young fellow. "I see it's gone. I thought
+it was there when I first came in; it's of no consequence."
+
+"Not your own gun, I suppose?"
+
+"No, no; I have my own. It was Hugo's."
+
+"Yes; rather a fine one," said Richard, indifferently. "You're not
+coming, then?"--to Brian--"well, perhaps it's as well." And he marched
+away without deigning to bestow another look or word upon his brother.
+
+Five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Luttrell and Angela encountered each other
+in a passage leading to one of the upper rooms. No one was near. Mrs.
+Luttrell--she was a tall, handsome woman, strikingly like Richard, in
+spite of her snow-white hair--laid her hand gently on Angela's shoulder.
+
+"Why do you look so pale, Angela?" she said. "Your eyes are red, child.
+Have you been crying because those ill-bred lads of mine could not keep
+a still tongue in their heads at the luncheon-table, but must needs
+wrangle together as they used to when they were just babies? Never you
+mind, my dear; it's not Richard's fault, and Brian was always a
+troublesome lad. It will be better for us all when he's away at his
+books in London."
+
+She patted Angela's shoulder and passed on, leaving the girl more vexed
+than comforted. She was sorry to see Mrs. Luttrell show the partiality
+for Richard which everyone accused her of feeling. In the mother's eyes,
+Richard was always right and Brian wrong. Angela was just enough to be
+troubled at times by this difference in the treatment of the brothers.
+
+Brian went down to the loch ostensibly to get out the boat. In reality
+he wanted to see whether Hugo was still there. Richard had told him of
+the punishment to which he had subjected the lad; and Brian had been
+frankly indignant about it. The two had come to high words; thus there
+had, indeed, been some foundation for the visitors' suspicions of a
+previous quarrel.
+
+Hugo had disappeared; only the broken brushwood and the crushed bracken
+told of the struggle that had taken place, and of the boy's agony of
+grief and rage. Brian resolved to follow and find him. He did not like
+the thought of leaving him to bear his shame alone. Besides, he
+understood Hugo's nature, and he was afraid--though he scarcely knew
+what he feared.
+
+But he searched in vain. Hugo was not to be found. He did not seem to
+have quitted the place altogether, for he had given no orders about his
+luggage, nor been seen on the road to the nearest town, and Brian knew
+that it would be almost impossible to find him in a short space of time
+if he did not wish to be discovered. It was possible that he had gone
+into the woods; he was as fond of them as a wild animal of his lair.
+Brian took his gun from the rack, as an excuse for an expedition, then
+sallied forth, scarcely hoping, however, to be successful in his search.
+
+He had not gone very far when he saw a man's form at some little
+distance from him, amongst the trees. He stopped short and
+reconnoitered. No, it was not Hugo. That brown shooting-coat and those
+stalwart limbs belonged rather to Richard Luttrell. Brian looked,
+shrugged his shoulders to himself, and then turned back. He did not want
+to meet his brother then.
+
+But Richard had heard the footstep and glanced round. After a moment of
+evident hesitation, he quitted his position and tramped over the soft,
+uneven ground to his brother, who, seeing that he had been observed,
+awaited his brother's coming with some uncertainty of feeling.
+
+Richard's face had wonderfully cleared since the morning, and his voice
+was almost cordial.
+
+"You've come? That's right," he said.
+
+"Got anything?"
+
+"Nothing much. I never saw young Grant shoot so wild. And my hand's not
+very steady--after this morning's work." He laughed a little awkwardly
+and looked away. "That fellow deserved all he got, Brian. But if you
+choose to see him now and then and be friendly with him, it's your own
+look out. I don't wish to interfere."
+
+It was a great concession from Richard--almost as much as an apology.
+Brian involuntarily put out his hand, which Richard grasped heartily if
+roughly. Neither of them found it necessary to say more. The mutual
+understanding was complete, and each hastily changed the subject, as
+though desirous that nothing farther should be said about it.
+
+If only some one had been by to witness that tacit reconciliation!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+IN THE TWILIGHT.
+
+
+It was already dusk under the thick branches of the wood, although the
+setting sun shone brilliantly upon the loch. Luttrell's friends were to
+dine with him, and as dinner was not until eight o'clock, they made
+rather a long circuit, and had some distance to return. Brian had joined
+Archie Grant; the second visitor was behind them with the keeper;
+Richard Luttrell had been accidentally separated from the others, and
+was supposed to be in front. Archie was laughing and talking gaily;
+Brian, whose mind ran much upon Hugo, was somewhat silent. But even he
+was no proof against Archie's enthusiasm, when the young fellow suddenly
+seized him by the arm, and pointed out a fine capercailzie which the
+dogs had just put up.
+
+Brian gave a quick glance to his companion, who, however, had handed his
+gun to the keeper a short time before, and shook his head deprecatingly.
+Brian lifted his gun. It seemed to him that something was moving amongst
+the branches beyond the bird, and for a moment he hesitated--then pulled
+the trigger. And just as he touched it, Archie sprang forward with a
+cry.
+
+"Don't fire! Are you blind? Don't you see what you are doing!"
+
+But it was too late.
+
+The bird flew away unharmed, but the shot seemed to have found another
+mark. There was the sound of a sudden, heavy fall. To Brian's horror and
+dismay he saw that a man had been standing amongst the brushwood and
+smaller trees just beyond the ridge of rising ground towards which his
+gun had been directed. The head only of this man could have been visible
+from the side of the bank on which Brian was standing; and even the head
+could be seen very indistinctly. As Brian fired, it seemed to him,
+curiously enough, as if another report rang in his ears beside that of
+his own gun. Was any one else shooting in the wood? Or had his senses
+played him false in the horror of the moment, and caused him to mistake
+an echo for another shot? He had not time to settle the question. For a
+moment he stood transfixed; then he rushed forward, but Archie had been
+before him. The young man was kneeling by the prostrate form and as
+Brian advanced, he looked up with a face as white as death.
+
+"Keep back," he cried, scarcely knowing what he said. "Don't look--don't
+look, for a moment; perhaps he'll open his eyes: perhaps he is not dead.
+Keep back!"
+
+Dead! Brian never forgot the sick feeling of dread which then came over
+him. What had he done? He did not hear Archie's excited words; he came
+hurriedly to the side of the man, who lay lifeless upon the ground with
+his head on the young fellow's knee. Archie looked up at him with
+dilated terrified eyes. And Brian stood stock still.
+
+It was Richard who lay before him, dead as a stone. He had dropped
+without a cry, perhaps even without a pang. There was a little purple
+mark upon his temple, from which a drop of black blood had oozed. A
+half-smile still lingered on his mouth; his face had scarcely changed
+colour, his attitude was natural, and yet the spectators felt that Death
+had set his imprint on that tranquil brow. Richard Luttrell's day was
+over; he had gone to a world where he might perhaps stand in need of
+that mercy which he had been only too ready to deny to others who had
+erred.
+
+Archie's elder brother, Donald Grant, and the keeper were hurrying to
+the spot. They found Brian on his knees beside the body, feeling with
+trembling hands for the pulse that beat no longer. His face was the
+colour of ashes, but as yet he had not uttered a single word. Donald
+Grant spoke first, with an anxious glance towards his brother.
+
+"How----" he began, and then stopped short, for Archie had silenced him
+with an almost imperceptible sign towards Brian Luttrell.
+
+"We heard two shots," muttered Donald, as he also bent over the
+prostrate form.
+
+"Only one, I think," said Archie.
+
+His brother pulled him aside.
+
+"I tell you I heard two," he said in a hushed voice. "You didn't fire?"
+
+"I had no gun."
+
+"Was it Brian?"
+
+"Yes. He shot straight at--at Richard; didn't see him a bit. He was
+always short-sighted."
+
+Donald gave his brother a look, and then turned to the keeper, whose
+face was working with unwonted emotion at the sight before him.
+
+"We must get help," he said, gravely. "He must be carried home, and some
+one must go to Dunmuir. Brian, shall I send to the village for you?"
+
+He touched Brian's shoulder as he spoke. The young man rose, and turned
+his pale face and lack-lustre eyes towards his friend as though he could
+not understand the question. Donald, repeated it, changing the form a
+little.
+
+"Shall I send for the men?" he said.
+
+Brian pressed his hand to his forehead.
+
+"The men?" he said, vaguely.
+
+"To carry--him to the house."
+
+Donald was compassionate, but he was uncomprehending of his friend's
+apparent want of emotion. He wanted to stir him up to a more definite
+show of feeling. And to some extent he got his wish.
+
+A look of horror came into Brian's eyes; a shudder ran through his
+frame.
+
+"Oh, my God!" he whispered, hoarsely, "is it I who have done this
+thing?"
+
+And then he threw up his hands as though to screen his eyes from the
+sight of the dead face, staggered a few steps away from the little
+group, and fell fainting to the ground.
+
+It was a sad procession that wound its way through the woodland paths at
+last, and stopped at the gate of Netherglen. Brian had recovered
+sufficiently to walk like a mourner behind the covered stretcher on
+which his brother's form was laid; but he paid little attention to the
+whispers that were exchanged from time to time between the Grants and
+the men who carried that melancholy burden to the Luttrells' door. On
+coming to himself after his swoon he wept like a child for a little
+time, but had then collected himself and become sadly quiet and calm.
+Still, he was scarcely awake to anything but the mere fact of his great
+misfortune, and it was not until the question was actually put to him,
+that he asked himself whether he could bear to take the news to his
+mother of the death of her eldest son.
+
+Brave as he was, he shrank from the task. "No, no!" he said, looking
+wildly into Donald's face. "Not I. I am not the one to tell her, that
+I--that I-----"
+
+A great sob burst from him in spite of his usual self-control. Donald
+Grant turned aside; he did not know how to bear the spectacle of grief
+such as this. And there were others to be thought of beside Mrs.
+Luttrell. Miss Vivian--Richard Luttrell's promised wife--was in the
+house; Donald Grant's own sisters were still waiting for him and Archie.
+It was impossible to go up to the house without preparing its tenants
+for the blow that had fallen upon them. Yet who would prepare them?
+
+"Here is the doctor," said Archie, turning towards the road. "He will
+tell them."
+
+Doctor Muir had long been a trusted friend of the Luttrell family. He
+had liked Richard rather less than any other member of the household,
+but he was sincerely grieved and shocked by the news which had greeted
+him as he went upon his rounds. The Grants drew him aside and gave him
+their account of the accident before he spoke to Brian. The doctor had
+tears in his eyes when they had finished. He went up to Brian and
+pressed his unresponsive hand.
+
+"My boy--my boy!" he said; "don't be cast down. It was the will of God."
+He pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed away a tear from his eyes as he
+spoke. "Shall I just see your poor mother? I'll step up to the house,
+and ye'll wait here till my return. Eh, but it's awful, awful!" The old
+man uttered the last words more to himself than to Brian, whose hand he
+again shook mechanically before he turned away.
+
+Brian followed him closely. "Doctor," he said, in a low, husky voice,
+"I'll go with you."
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Dr. Muir, sharply. "Why, man, your
+face would be enough to tell the news, in all conscience. You may walk
+to the door with me--the back door, if you please--but further you shall
+not come until I have seen Mistress Luttrell. Here, give me your arm;
+you're not fit to go alone with that white face. And how did it happen,
+my poor lad?"
+
+"I don't know--I can't tell," said Brian, slowly. "I saw the bird rise
+from the bank--and then I saw something moving--but I thought I must be
+mistaken; and I fired, and he--he fell! By my hand, too! Oh, Doctor, is
+there a God in Heaven to let such things be?"
+
+"Hut, tut, tut, but we'll have no such words as these, my bairn. If the
+Lord lets these things happen, we'll maybe find that He's had some good
+reason for't. He's always in the right. And ye must just learn to bow
+yourself, Brian, to the will of the Almighty, for there's no denying but
+He's laid a sore trial upon ye, my poor lad, and one that will be hard
+to bear."
+
+"I shall never bear it," said Brian, who caught but imperfectly the
+drift of the doctor's simple words of comfort. "It is too hard--too hard
+to bear."
+
+They had reached the back door, by which Dr. Muir preferred to make his
+entrance. He uttered a few words to the servants about the accident that
+had occurred, and then sent a message asking to speak alone with Mrs.
+Luttrell. The answer came back that Mrs. Luttrell would see him in the
+study. And thither the doctor went, leaving Brian in one of the cold,
+stone corridors that divided the kitchens and offices from the
+living-rooms of the house. Meanwhile, the body of Richard Luttrell was
+silently carried into one of the lower rooms until another place could
+be prepared for its reception.
+
+How long Brian waited, with his forehead, pressed against the wall, deaf
+and blind to everything but an overmastering dread of his mother's agony
+which had taken complete possession of him, he did not know. He only
+knew that after a certain time--an eternity it seemed to him--a bitter,
+wailing cry came to his ears; a cry that pierced through the thick walls
+and echoed down the dark passages, although it was neither loud nor
+long. But there was something in the intensity of the grief that it
+expressed which seemed to give it a peculiarly penetrating quality. Ah,
+it was this sound that Brian now knew he had been dreading; this sound
+that cut him to the heart.
+
+Dr. Muir, on coming hurriedly out from the study, found Brian in the
+corridor with his hands pressed to his ears as if to keep out the sound
+of that one fearful cry.
+
+"Come away, my boy," he said, pitifully. "We can do no good here. Where
+is Miss Vivian?"
+
+Brian's hands dropped to his sides. He kept his eyes fixed on the
+doctor's face as if he would read his very soul. And for the moment
+Doctor Muir could not meet that piercing gaze. He tried to pass on, but
+Brian laid his hand on his arm.
+
+"Tell me all," he said. "What does my mother say? Has it killed her?"
+
+"Killed her? People are not so easily killed by grief, my dear Mr.
+Brian," said the doctor. "Come away, come away. Your mother is not just
+herself, and speaks wildly, as mothers are wont to do when they lose
+their first-born son. We'll not mind what she says just now. Where is
+Miss Vivian? It is she that I want to see."
+
+"I understand," said Brian, taking away his hands from the doctor's arm
+and hiding his face with them, "my mother will not see me; she will not
+forgive my--my--accursed carelessness----"
+
+"Worse than that!" muttered the doctor to himself, but, fortunately,
+Brian did not hear. And at that moment a slender woman's figure appeared
+at the end of the corridor; it hesitated, moved slowly forward, and then
+approached them hastily.
+
+"Is Mrs. Luttrell ill?" asked Angela.
+
+She had a candle in her hand, and the beams fell full upon her soft,
+white dress and the Eucharis lily in her hair. She had twisted a string
+of pearls three times round her neck--it was an heirloom of great value.
+The other ornaments were all Richard's gifts; two broad bands of gold
+set with pearls and diamonds upon her arms, and the diamond ring which
+had been the pledge of her betrothal. She was very pale, and her eyes
+were large with anxiety as she asked her question of the two men, whom
+her appearance had struck with dumbness. Brian turned away with a
+half-audible groan. Doctor Muir looked at her intently from beneath his
+shaggy, grey eyebrows, and did not speak.
+
+"I know there is something wrong, or you would not stand like this
+outside Mrs. Luttrell's door," said Angela, with a quiver in her sweet
+voice. "And Richard is not here! Where is Richard?"
+
+There was silence.
+
+"Something has happened to Richard? Some accident--some----"
+
+She stopped, looked at Brian's averted face, and shivered as if an icy
+wind had passed over her. Doctor Muir took the candle from her hand,
+then opened his lips to speak. But she stopped him. "Don't tell me," she
+said. "I am going to his mother. I shall learn it in a moment from her
+face. Besides--I know--I know."
+
+The delicate tinting had left her cheeks and lips; her eyes were
+distended, her limbs trembled as she moved. Doctor Muir stood aside,
+giving her the benefit of keen professional scrutiny as she passed; but
+he was satisfied. She was not a woman who would either faint or scream
+in an emergency. She might suffer, but she would suffer in silence
+rather than add by word or deed one iota to the burden of suffering that
+another might have to bear. Therefore, Doctor Muir let her enter the
+room in which the widowed mother wept, and prayed in his heart that
+Angela Vivian might receive the news of her bereavement in a different
+spirit from that shown by Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+The noise of shuffling feet, of muffled voices, of stifled sobs, reached
+the ears of the watchers in the corridor from another part of the house.
+Doctor Muir had sent a messenger to bid the men advance with their sad
+burden to a side door which opened into a sitting-room not very
+generally used. The housekeeper, an old and faithful servant of the
+family, had already prepared it, according to the doctor's orders, for
+the reception of the dead. The visitors hurriedly took their departure;
+Donald Grant's wagonette had been at the door some little time, and, as
+soon as he had seen poor Richard Luttrell's remains laid upon a long
+table in the sitting-room, he drove silently away, with Archie on the
+box-seat beside him, and the three girls in the seats behind, crying
+over the troubles of their friends.
+
+Doctor Muir and Brian Luttrell remained for some time in the passage
+outside the study door. The doctor tried several times to persuade his
+companion to leave his post, but Brian refused to do so.
+
+"I must wait; I must see my mother," he repeated, when the doctor
+pressed him to come away. "Oh, I know that she will not want to see me;
+she will never wish to look on my face again, but I must see her and
+remind her that--that--she has one son left--who loves her still." And
+then Brian's voice broke and he said no more. Doctor Muir shook his
+head. He did not believe that Mrs. Luttrell would be much comforted by
+his reminder. She had never seemed to love her second son.
+
+"Where is Hugo?" the doctor asked, in an undertone, when the silence had
+lasted some time.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"He will be home to-night?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+All this time no sound had reached them from the interior of the room
+where the two women sat together. Their voices must have been very low,
+their sobs subdued. Angela had not cried out as Mrs. Luttrell had done
+when she received the fatal news. No movement, no sign of grief was to
+be heard.
+
+Brian lifted up his grief-stricken eyes at last, and fixed them on the
+doctor's face.
+
+"Are they dead?" he muttered, strangely. "Will they never speak again?"
+
+Doctor Muir did not immediately reply. He had placed the candle on a
+wooden bracket in the wall, and its flickering beams lighted, the dark
+corridor so feebly that until now he had scarcely caught a glimpse of
+the young man's haggard looks. They frightened him a little. He himself
+took life so easily--fretted so little against the inevitable--that he
+scarcely understood the look of anguish which an hour or two of trouble
+had imprinted upon Brian Luttrell's face. It was the kind of sorrow
+which has been known to turn a man's hair from black to white in a
+single night.
+
+"I will knock at the door," said the doctor. But before he could carry
+out his intention, footsteps were heard, and the handle of the door was
+turned. Both men drew back involuntarily into the shadow as Mrs.
+Luttrell and Angela came forth.
+
+Angela had been weeping, but there were no signs of tears upon the elder
+woman's face. Rigid, white, and hard, it looked almost as if it were
+carved in stone; a mute image of misery too deep for tears. There were
+lines upon her brow that had never been seen there before; her lips were
+tightly compressed; her eyes fiercely bright. She had thrown a black
+shawl over her head on coming away from the drawing-room into the
+draughty corridors. This shawl, which she had forgotten to remove,
+together with the dead blackness of her dress, gave her pale face a
+strangely spectral appearance. Clinging to her, and yet guiding her,
+came Angela, with the white flower crushed and drooping from her hair.
+She also was ashy pale, but there was a more natural and tender look of
+grief to be read in her wet eyes and on her trembling lips than in the
+stony tranquility of Richard Luttrell's mother.
+
+Brian could not contain himself. He rushed forward and threw himself on
+the ground at his mother's feet. Mrs. Luttrell shrank back a little and
+clutched Angela's arm fiercely with her thin, white fingers.
+
+"Mother, speak to me; tell me that you--mother, only speak!"
+
+His voice died away in irrepressible sobs which shook him from head to
+foot. He dared not utter the word "forgiveness" yet. Unintentional as
+the harm might be that his hand had done, it was sadly irreparable, too.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell looked at him with scarcely a change of feature, and tried
+to withdraw some stray fold of her garments from his grasp. He resisted;
+he would not let her go. His heart was aching with his own trouble, and
+with the consciousness of her loss--Angela's loss--all the suffering
+that Richard's death would inflict upon these two women who had loved
+him so devotedly. He yearned for one little word of comfort and
+affection, which even in that terrible moment, a mother should have
+known so well how to give. But he lay at that mother's feet in vain.
+
+It was Angela who spoke first.
+
+"Speak to him, mother," she said, tremblingly. "See how he suffers. It
+was not his fault."
+
+The tears ran down her pale cheeks unnoticed as she spoke. It was only
+natural to Angela that her first words should be words of consolation to
+another, not of sorrow for her own great loss. But Mrs. Luttrell did not
+unclose her lips.
+
+"Ye'll not be hard upon him, madam," said the old doctor, deprecatingly.
+"Your own lad, and a lad that kneels to you for a gentle word, and will
+be heartbroken if you say him nay."
+
+"And is my heart not broken?" asked the mother, lifting her head and
+looking away into the darkness of the long corridor. "The son that I
+loved is dead; the boy that came to me like a little angel in the spring
+of my youth--they say that he is dead and cold. I am going to look at
+his face again. Come, Angela. Perhaps they have spoken falsely, and he
+is alive--not murdered, after all."
+
+"Murdered? Mother!"
+
+Brian raised himself a little and repeated the word with shuddering
+emphasis.
+
+"Murdered!" said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily, as she turned her burning eyes
+full upon the countenance of her younger son; as if to watch the
+workings of his agitated features. "If not by the laws of man, by God's
+laws you are guilty. You had quarrelled with him that day; and you took
+your revenge. I tell you, James Muir, and you, Angela Vivian, that Brian
+Luttrell took his brother's life by no mistake--that he is Richard's
+murderer----"
+
+"No; I swear it by the God who made me--no!" cried Brian, springing to
+his feet.
+
+But his mother had turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.
+
+
+About ten o'clock at night Hugo Luttrell was seen entering the courtyard
+at the back of the house, where keepers, grooms, and indoor servants
+were collected in a group, discussing in low tones the event of the day.
+Seeing these persons, he seemed inclined to go back by the way that he
+had come; but the butler--an old Englishman who had been in the Luttrell
+family before Edward Luttrell ever thought of marrying a Scotch heiress
+and settling for the greater part of every year at Netherglen--this said
+butler, whose name was William Whale, caught sight of the young fellow
+and accosted him by name.
+
+"Mr. Hugo, sir, there's been many inquiries after you," he began in a
+lugubrious tone of voice.
+
+"After me, William?" Hugo looked frightened and uneasy. "What for?"
+
+"You won't have heard of the calamity that has come upon the house,"
+said William, shaking his head solemnly; "and it will be a great shock
+to you, no doubt, sir; a terrible shock. Stand back, you men, there; let
+Mr. Hugo pass. Come into the housekeeper's room, sir. There's a fire in
+it; the night has turned chilly. Go softly, if you please, sir."
+
+Hugo followed the old man without another question. He looked haggard
+and wearied; his clothes were wet, torn and soiled; his very hair was
+damp, and his boots were soaked and burst as though from a long day's
+tramp. Mrs. Shairp, the housekeeper, with whom he was a favourite,
+uttered a startled exclamation at his appearance.
+
+"Guid guide us, sirs! and whaur hae ye been hidin' yoursel' a' this day
+an' nicht, Mr. Hugo? We've baen sair trouble i' th' hoose, and naebody
+kent your whaurabouts. Bairn! but ye're just droukit! Whaur hae you
+hidden yoursel' then?"
+
+"Hidden!" Hugo repeated, catching at one of the good woman's words and
+ignoring the others. "I've not hidden anywhere. I've been over the hills
+a bit--that's all. What is the matter?"
+
+He seated himself in the old woman's cushioned chair, and leaned forward
+to warm himself at the fire as he spoke, holding out first one hand and
+then the other to the leaping blaze.
+
+"How will I tell you?" said Mrs. Shairp, relapsing into the tears she
+had been shedding for the last two hours or more. "Is it possible that
+ye've heard naething ava? The laird--Netherglen himsel'--oor
+maister--and have you heard naething aboot him as you cam doun by the
+muir? I'd hae thocht shame to let you gang hame unkent, if I had been
+Jenny Burns at the lodge."
+
+"I did not come that way," said Hugo, impatiently. "What is the matter
+with the laird?"
+
+"Maitter?--maitter wi' the laird? The laird's deid, laddie, and a gude
+freend was he to me and mine, and to your ain sei' forbye, and the hale
+kintra side will be at the buryin'," said the housekeeper, shaking her
+head solemnly. "An' if that were na enow for my poor mistress there's a
+waur thing to follow. The laird's fa'en by his ain brither's han's. Mr.
+Brian shot him this verra nicht, as they cam' thro' the wud."
+
+"By mistake, Mrs. Shairp, by mistake," murmured William Whale. But Hugo
+lifted his haggard face, which looked very pale in the glow of the
+firelight.
+
+"You can't mean what you are saying," he said, in a hoarse, unnatural
+voice. "Richard? Richard--dead! Oh, it must be impossible!"
+
+"True, sir, as gospel," said Mrs. Shairp, touched by the ring of pain
+that came into the young man's voice as he spoke. "At half-past eight,
+by the clock, they brought the laird hame stiff and stark, cauld as a
+stane a'ready. The mistress is clean daft wi' sorrow; an' I doot but Mr.
+Brian will hae a sair time o't wi' her and the bonny young leddy that's
+left ahent."
+
+Hugo dropped his face into his hands and did not answer. A shudder ran
+through his frame more than once. Mrs. Shairp thought that he was
+shedding tears, and motioned to William Whale, who had been standing
+near the door with a napkin over his arm, to leave the room. William
+retired shutting the door softly behind him.
+
+Presently Hugo spoke. "Tell me about it," he said. And Mrs. Shairp was
+only too happy to pour into his ears the whole story as she had learned
+it from the keeper who had come upon the scene just after the firing of
+the fatal shot. He listened almost in silence, but did not uncover his
+face.
+
+"And his mother?" he asked at length.
+
+Mrs. Shairp could say little about the laird's mother. It was Dr. Muir
+who had told her the truth, she said, and the whole house had heard her
+cry out as if she had been struck. Then Miss Vivian had gone to her, and
+had received the news from Mrs. Luttrell's own lips. They had gone
+together to look at Richard's face, and then Miss Vivian had fainted,
+and had been carried into Mrs. Luttrell's own room, where she was to
+spend the night. So much Mrs. Shairp knew, and nothing more.
+
+"And where is Brian?"
+
+"Whaur should he be?" demanded the old woman, with some asperity. "Whaur
+but in's ain room, sair cast doun for the ill he has dune."
+
+"It was not his fault," said Hugo, quickly.
+
+"Maybe no," replied Mrs. Shairp, with reserve. "Maybe ay, maybe no; it's
+just the question--though I wadna like to think that the lad meant to
+harm his brother."
+
+"Who does think so?"
+
+"I'm no saying that onybody thinks sae. Mr. Brian was aye a kind-hearted
+lad an' a bonny, but never a lucky ane, sae lang as I hae kent him,
+which will be twenty years gane at Marti'mas. I cam' at the term."
+
+Hugo scarcely listened to her. He rose up with a strange, scared look
+upon his face, and walked unsteadily out of the room, without a word of
+thanks to Mrs. Shairp for her communications. Before she had recovered
+from her astonishment, he was far down the corridor on his way to the
+other portion of the house.
+
+In which room had they laid Richard Luttrell? Hugo remembered with a
+shiver that he had not asked. He glanced round the hall with a thrill of
+nervous apprehension. The drawing-room and dining-room doors stood open;
+they were in darkness. The little morning-room door was also slightly
+ajar, but a dim light seemed to be burning inside. It must be in that
+room, Hugo decided, that Richard Luttrell lay. Should he go in? No, he
+dare not. He could not look upon Richard Luttrell's dead face. And yet
+he hesitated, drawn by a curious fascination towards that half-open
+door.
+
+While he waited, the door was slowly opened from the inside, and a hand
+appeared clasping the edge of the door. A horrible fancy seized Hugo
+that Richard had risen from his bed and was coming out into the hall;
+that Richard's fingers were bent round the edge of the open door. He
+longed to fly, but his knees trembled; he could not move. He stood
+rooted to the spot with unreasoning terror, until the door opened still
+more widely, and the person who had been standing in the room came out.
+It was no ghostly Richard, sallying forth to upbraid Hugo for his
+misdeeds. It was Brian Luttrell who turned his pale face towards the boy
+as he passed through the hall.
+
+Hugo cowered before him. He sank down on the lower steps of the wide
+staircase and hid his face in his hands. Brian, who had been passing him
+by without remark, seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and stopped
+short before his cousin. The lad's shrinking attitude touched him with
+pity.
+
+"You are right to come back," he said, in a voice which, although
+abstracted, was strangely calm. "He told you to leave the house for
+ever, did he not? But I think that--now--he would rather that you
+stayed. He told me that I might do for you what I chose."
+
+The lad's head was bent still lower. He did not say a word.
+
+"So," said Brian, leaning against the great oak bannisters as if he were
+utterly exhausted by fatigue, "so--if you stay--you will only be
+doing--what, perhaps, he wishes now. You need not be afraid."
+
+"You are the master--now," murmured Hugo from between his fingers.
+
+It was the last speech that Brian would have expected to hear from his
+cousin's lips. It cut him to the heart.
+
+"Don't say so!" he cried, in a stifled voice. "Good God! to think that
+I--I--should profit by my brother's death!" And Hugo, lifting up his
+head, saw that the young man's frame was shaken by shuddering horror
+from head to foot. "I shall never be master here," he said.
+
+Hugo raised his head with a look of wonder. Brian's feeling was quite
+incomprehensible to him.
+
+"He was always a good brother to me," Brian went on in a shaken voice,
+more to himself than to his cousin, "and a kind friend to you so long as
+you kept straight and did not disgrace us by your conduct. You had no
+right to complain, whatever he might do or say to you. You ought to
+mourn for him--you ought to regret him bitterly--bitterly--while
+I--I----"
+
+"Do not you mourn for him, then?" said Hugo, when the pause that
+followed Brian's speech had become insupportable to him.
+
+"If I were only in his place I should be happy," said Brian,
+passionately. Then he turned upon Hugo with something like fierceness,
+but it was the fierceness of a prolonged and half-suppressed agony of
+pain. "Do you feel nothing? Do you come into his house, knowing that he
+is dead, and have not a word of sorrow for your own behaviour to him
+while he lived? Come with me and look at him--look at his face, and
+remember what he did for you when you were a boy--what he has done for
+you during the last eight years."
+
+He seized Hugo by the arm and compelled him to rise; but the lad, with a
+face blanched by terror, absolutely refused to move from the spot.
+
+"Not to-night--I can't--I can't!" he said, his dark eyes dilating, and
+his very lips turning white with fear. "To-morrow, Brian--not to-night."
+
+But Brian briefly answered, "Come," and tightened his grasp on the lad's
+arm. And Hugo, though trembling like an aspen leaf, yielded to that iron
+pressure, and followed him to the room where lay all that was mortal of
+Richard Luttrell.
+
+Once inside the door, Brian dropped his cousin's arm, and seemed to
+forget his presence. He slowly removed the covering from the dead face
+and placed a candle so that the light fell upon it. Then he walked to
+the foot of the table, which served the purpose of a bier, and looked
+long and earnestly at the marble features, so changed, so passionless
+and calm in the repose of death! Terrible, indeed, was the sight to one
+who had sincerely loved Richard Luttrell--the strong man, full of lusty
+health and vigour, desirous of life, fortunate in the possession, of all
+that makes life worth living only a few short hours before; now silent,
+motionless for ever struck down in the hey-day of youth and strength,
+and by a brother's hand! Brian had but spoken the truth when he said
+that he would gladly change his own fate for that of his brother
+Richard. He forgot Hugo and the reason for which he had brought him to
+that room, he forgot everything except his own unavailing sorrow, his
+inextinguishable regret.
+
+Hugo remained where his cousin had left him, leaning against the wall,
+seemingly incapable of speech or motion, overcome by a superstitious
+terror of death, which Brian was as far from suspecting as of
+comprehending. In the utter silence of the house they could hear the
+distant stable-clock strike eleven. The wind was rising, and blew in
+fitful gusts, rustling the branches of the trees, and causing a loose
+rose-branch to tap carelessly against the window panes. It sounded like
+the knock of someone anxious to come in. The candles flickered and
+guttered in the draught; the wavering light cast strange shadows over
+the dead man's face. You might have thought that his features moved from
+time to time; that now he frowned at the intruders, and now he smiled at
+them--a terrible, ghastly smile.
+
+There was a footstep at the door. It was Mrs. Luttrell who came gliding
+in with her pale face, and her long black robes, to take her place at
+her dead son's side. She had thought that she must come and assure
+herself once more that he was really gone from her. She meant to look at
+him for a little while, to kiss his cold forehead, and then to go back
+to Angela and try to sleep. She took no notice of Brian, nor of Hugo;
+she drew a chair close to the long table upon which the still, white
+form was stretched, seated herself, and looked steadfastly at the
+uncovered face. Brian started at the sight of his mother; he glanced at
+her pleadingly, as if he would have spoken; but the rigidity of her face
+repelled him. He hung his head and turned a little from her, as though
+to steal away.
+
+Suddenly a terrible voice rang through the room. "Look!" cried the
+mother, pointing with one finger to the lifeless form, and raising her
+eyes for the first time to Brian's face--"look there!"
+
+Brian looked, and flinched from the sight he saw. For a strange thing
+had happened. Although not actually unusual, it had never before come
+within the experience of any of these watchers of the dead, and thus it
+suggested to them nothing but the old superstition which in old times
+caused a supposed murderer to be brought face to face with the man he
+was accused of having killed.
+
+A drop of blood was trickling from the nostril of the dead man, and
+losing itself in the thick, black moustache upon his upper lip. It was
+followed by another or two, and then it stayed.
+
+The mother did not speak again. Her hand sank; her eyes were riveted
+upon Brian's face with a mute reproach. And Brian, although he knew well
+enough in his sober senses that the phenomenon they had just seen was
+merely caused by the breaking of some small blood-vessel in the brain,
+such as often occurs after death, was so far dominated by the impression
+of the moment that he walked out of the room, not daring to justify
+himself in his mother's eyes, not daring to raise his head. After him
+crept Hugo whose teeth chattered as though he were suffering from an
+ague; but Brian took no more notice of his cousin. He went straight to
+his own room and locked himself in, to bear his lonely sorrow as best he
+might.
+
+No formal inquiry was made into the cause of Richard Luttrell's death.
+Archie Grant's testimony completely exonerated Brian, even of
+carelessness, and the general opinion was that no positive blame could
+be attached to anybody for the sad occurrence, and that Mr. Brian
+Luttrell had the full sympathy and respect of all who knew him and had
+known his lamented brother, Richard Luttrell of Netherglen.
+
+So the matter ended. But idle tongues still wagged, and wise heads were
+shaken over the circumstances attending Richard Luttrell's death.
+
+It was partly Mrs. Luttrell's fault. In the first hours of her
+bereavement she had spoken wildly and bitterly of the share which Brian
+had had in causing Richard's death. She had spoken to Doctor Muir, to
+Angela, to Mrs. Shairp--a few words only to each, but enough to show in
+what direction her thoughts were tending. With the first two her words
+were sacred, but Mrs. Shairp, though kindly enough, was not so
+trustworthy. Before the good woman realised what she was doing, the
+whole household, nay, the whole country-side, had learned that Mrs.
+Luttrell believed her second son to have fired that fatal shot with the
+intention of killing, or at least of maiming, his brother Richard.
+
+The Grants, who had spent the day of the accident at Netherglen, were,
+of course, eagerly questioned by inquisitive acquaintances. The girls
+were ready enough to chatter. They confided to their intimate friends in
+mysterious whispers that the brothers had certainly not been on good
+terms; they had glowered at one another, and caught each other up and
+been positively rude to each other; and they would not go out together;
+and poor Mr. Luttrell looked so worried, so unlike himself! Then the
+brothers were interrogated, but proved less easy to "draw." Archie flew
+into a rage at the notion of sinister intentions on Brian's part. Donald
+looked "dour," and flatly refused to discuss the subject.
+
+But his refusal was thought vastly suspicious by the many wiseacres who
+knew the business of everybody better than their own. And the rumour
+waxed and spread.
+
+During the days before the funeral Brian scarcely saw anyone. He lived
+shut up in his own room, as his mother did in hers, and had interviews
+only with his lawyer and men who came on business. It was a sad and
+melancholy house in those days. Angela was invisible: whether it was she
+or Mrs. Luttrell who was ill nobody could exactly say. Hugo wandered
+about the lonely rooms, or shut himself up after the fashion of the
+other members of the family, and looked like a ghost. After the first
+two days, Angela's only near relation, her brother Rupert, was present
+in the house; but his society seemed not to be very acceptable to Hugo,
+and, finding that he was of no use, even to his sister, Mr. Vivian went
+back to England, and the house seemed quieter than it had been before.
+
+The funeral took place at last. When it was over, Brian came home, said
+farewell to the guests, had a long interview with Mr. Colquhoun, the
+solicitor, and then seated himself in the study with the air of a man
+who was resolved to take up the burden of his duties in a befitting
+spirit. His air was melancholy, but calm; he seemed aged by ten years
+since his brother's death. He dined with Hugo, Mr. Colquhoun and Dr.
+Muir, and exerted himself to talk of current topics with courtesy and
+interest. But his weary face, his saddened eyes, and the long pauses
+that occurred between his intervals of speech, produced a depressing
+effect upon his guests. Hugo was no more cheerful than his cousin. He
+watched Brian furtively from time to time, yet seemed afraid to meet his
+eye. His silence and depression were so marked that the doctor
+afterwards remarked it to Mr. Colquhoun. "I did not think that Mr. Hugo
+would take his cousin's death so much to heart," he said.
+
+"Do you think he does?" asked Mr. Colquhoun, drily. "I don't believe
+he's got a heart, the young scamp. I found him myself in the wood,
+examining the bark of the tree near which the accident took place, you
+know, on the morning after Richard's death, as cool as a cucumber. 'I
+was trying to make out how it happened,' he said to me, when I came up.
+'Brian must have shot very straight.' I told him to go home and mind his
+own business."
+
+"Do you think what they say about Brian's intentions had any
+foundation?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Not a bit. Brian's too tender-hearted for a thing of that sort. But the
+mother's very bitter about it. She's as hard as flint. It's a bad look
+out for Brian. He's a ruined man."
+
+"Not from a pecuniary point of view. The property goes to him."
+
+"Yes, but he hasn't the strength to put up with the slights and the
+scandal which will go with it. He has the pluck, but not the physique.
+It's men like him that go out of their minds, or commit suicide, or die
+of heart-break--which you doctors call by some other name, of
+course--when the world's against them. He'll never stand it. Mark my
+words--Brian Luttrell won't be to the fore this time next year."
+
+"Where will he be, Colquhoun? Come, come, Brian's a fellow with brains.
+He won't do anything rash."
+
+"He'll be in his grave," said the lawyer, gloomily.
+
+"Hell be enjoying himself in the metropolis," said the doctor. "He'll
+have a fine house and a pretty wife, and he'll laugh in our faces if we
+hint at your prophecies, Colquhoun. I should have had no respect at all
+for Brian Luttrell if he threw away his own life because he had
+accidentally taken that of another man."
+
+"We shall see," said the lawyer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+MOTHER AND SON.
+
+
+Early on the following morning Brian received a message from his mother.
+It was the first communication that she had vouchsafed to him since the
+day of her eldest son's death. "Would he come to her dressing-room at
+eleven o'clock? She wished to consult him upon special business." Brian
+sent word that he would be with her at that hour, and then fell into
+anxious meditation as he sat at breakfast, with Hugo at the other end of
+the table.
+
+"Don't go far away from the house, Hugo," he said at last, as he rose to
+leave the room. "I may want you in the course of the morning."
+
+Hugo looked up at him without answering. The lad had been studying a
+newspaper, with his head supported by his left hand, while his right
+played with his coffee cup or the morsels of food upon his plate. He did
+not seem to have much appetite. His great, dark eyes looked larger than
+usual, and were ringed with purple shadow; his lips were tremulous. "It
+was wonderful," as people said, "to see how that poor young fellow felt
+his cousin's death."
+
+Perhaps Brian thought so too, for he added, very gently--though when did
+he not speak gently?--
+
+"There is nothing wrong. I only want to make some arrangements with you
+for your future. Think a little about it before I speak to you."
+
+And then he went out of the room, and Hugo was left to his meditations,
+which were not of the most agreeable character, in spite of Brian's
+reassuring words.
+
+He pushed his plate and newspaper away from him impatiently; a frown
+showed itself on his beautiful, low brows.
+
+"What will he do for me? Anything definite, I wonder? Poor beggar, I'm
+sorry for him, but my position has been decidedly improved since that
+unlucky shot at Richard. Did he want him out of the way, I wonder? The
+gloomy look with which he goes makes about one imagine that he did. What
+a fool he must be!"
+
+Hugo pushed back his chair and rose: a cynical smile curled his lips for
+a moment, but it changed by degrees into an expression of somewhat
+sullen discontent.
+
+"I wish I could sleep at nights," he said, moving slowly towards the
+window. "I've never been so wretchedly wakeful in all my life." Then he
+gazed out into the garden, but without seeing much of the scene that he
+gazed upon, for his thoughts were far away, and his whole soul was
+possessed by fear of what Brian would do or say.
+
+At eleven o'clock Brian made his way to his mother's dressing-room, an
+apartment which, although bearing that name, was more like an ordinary
+sitting-room than a dressing-room. He knocked, and was answered by his
+mother's voice.
+
+"Come in," she said. "Is it you, Brian?"
+
+"Yes, it is I," Brian said, as he closed the door behind him.
+
+He walked quietly to the hearth-rug, where he stood with one hand
+resting on the mantelpiece. It was a convenient attitude, and one which
+exposed him to no rebuffs. He was too wise to offer hand or cheek to his
+mother by way of greeting.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell was sitting on a sofa, with her back to the light. Brian
+thought that she looked older and more worn; there were fresh wrinkles
+upon her forehead, and marks of weeping and sleeplessness about her
+eyes, but her figure was erect as ever, as rigidly upright as if her
+backbone were made of iron. She was in the deepest possible mourning;
+even the handkerchief that she held in her hand was edged with two or
+three inches of black. Brian looked round for Angela; he had expected to
+find her with his mother, but she was not there. The door into Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room was partly open.
+
+"How is Angela?" he asked.
+
+"Angela is not well. Could you expect her to be well after the terrible
+trial that has overtaken her?"
+
+Brian winced. He could make no reply to such a question. Mrs. Luttrell
+scored a triumph, and continued in her hard, incisive way:--
+
+"She is probably as well as she can hope to be under the circumstances.
+Her health has suffered--as mine also has suffered--under the painful
+dispensation which has been meted out to us. We do not repine. Hearts
+that are broken, that have no hopes, no joys, no pleasures in store for
+them in this life, are not eager to exhibit their sufferings. If I speak
+as I speak now, it is for the last and only time. It is right that you
+should hear me once."
+
+"I will hear anything you choose to say," answered Brian, heavily. "But,
+mother, be merciful. I have suffered, too."
+
+"We will pass over the amount of your suffering," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+"if you please. I have no doubt that it is very great, but I think that
+it will soon be assuaged. I think that you will soon begin to remember
+the many things that you gain by your brother's death--the social
+position, the assured income, the estate in Scotland which I brought to
+your father, as well as his own house of Netherglen--all the things for
+which men are only too ready to sell their souls."
+
+"All these things are nothing to me," sighed Brian.
+
+"They are a great deal in the world's eyes. You will soon find out how
+differently it receives you now from the way it received you a year--a
+month--a week--ago. You are a rich man. I wish you joy of your wealth.
+Everything goes to you except Netherglen itself; that is left in my
+hands."
+
+"Mother, are you mad?" said her son, passionately. "Why do you talk to
+me in this way? I swear to you that I would give every hope and every
+joy that I ever possessed--I would give my life--to have Richard back
+again! Do you think I ever wanted to be rich through his death?"
+
+"I do not know what you wanted," said Mrs. Luttrell, sternly. "I have no
+means of guessing."
+
+"Is this what you wished me to say?" said Brian, whose voice was hoarse
+and changed. "I said that I would listen--but, you might spare me these
+taunts, at least."
+
+"I do not taunt you. I wish only to draw attention to the difference
+between your position and my own. Richard's death brings wealth, ease,
+comfort to you; to me nothing but desolation. I am willing to allow the
+house of which I have been the mistress for so many years, of which I am
+legally the mistress still, to pass into your hands. I have lost my home
+as well as my sons. I am desolate."
+
+"Your sons! You have not lost both your sons, mother," pleaded Brian,
+with a note of bitter pain in his voice, as he came closer to her and
+tried in vain to take her icy hand. "Why do you think that you are no
+longer mistress of this house? You are as much mistress as you were in
+my father's time--in Richard's time. Why should there be a difference
+now?"
+
+"There is this difference," said Mrs. Luttrell, coldly, "that I do not
+care to live in any house with you. It would be painful to me; that is
+all. If you desire to stay, I will go."
+
+Brian staggered back as if she had struck him in the face.
+
+"Do you mean to cast me off?" he almost whispered, for he could not find
+strength to speak aloud. "Am I not your son, too?"
+
+"You fill the place that a son should occupy," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+letting her hand rise and fall upon her lap, and looking away from
+Brian. "I can say no more. My son--my own son--the son that I
+loved"--(she paused, and seemed to recollect herself before she
+continued in a lower voice)--"the son that I loved--is dead."
+
+There was a silence. Brian seated himself and bowed his head upon his
+hands. "God help me!" she heard him mutter. But she did not relent.
+
+Presently he looked up and fixed his haggard eyes upon her.
+
+"Mother," he said, in hoarse and unnatural tones, "you have had your
+say; now let me have mine. I know too well what you believe. You think,
+because of a slight dispute which arose between us on that day, that I
+had some grudge against my brother. I solemnly declare to you that that
+is not true. Richard and I had differed; but we met--in the wood"--(he
+drew his breath painfully)--"a few minutes only before that terrible
+mistake of mine; and we were friends again. Mother, do you know me so
+ill as to think that I could ever have lifted my hand against Richard,
+who was always a friend to me, always far kinder than I deserved? It was
+a mistake--a mistake that I'll never, never forgive myself for, and that
+you, perhaps, never will forgive--but, at any rate, do me the justice to
+believe that it was a mistake, and not--not--that I was Richard's
+murderer!"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell sat silent, motionless, her white hands crossed before her
+on the crape of her black gown. Brian threw himself impetuously on his
+knees before her and looked up into her face.
+
+"Mother, mother!" he said, "do you not believe me?"
+
+It seemed to him a long time--it was, in reality, not more than ten or
+twelve seconds--before Mrs. Luttrell answered his question. "Do you not
+believe me?" he had said. And she answered--
+
+"No."
+
+The shock of finding his passionate appeal so utterly disregarded
+restored to Brian the composure which had failed him before. He rose to
+his feet, pale, stricken, indeed, but calm. For a moment or two he
+averted his face from the woman who judged him so harshly, so
+pitilessly; but when he turned to her again, he had gained a certain
+pride of bearing which compelled her unwilling respect.
+
+"If that is your final answer," he said, "I can say nothing more.
+Perhaps the day will come when you will understand me better. In the
+meantime, I shall be glad to hear whether you have any plans which I can
+assist you in carrying out."
+
+"None in which I require your assistance," said Mrs. Luttrell, stonily.
+"I have my jointure; I can live upon that. I will leave Netherglen to
+you. I will take a cottage for myself--and Angela."
+
+"And Angela?"
+
+"Angela remains with me. You may remember that she has no home, except
+with friends who are not always as kind to her as they might be. Her
+brother is not a wealthy man, and has no house of his own. Under these
+circumstances, and considering what she has lost, it would be mere
+justice if I offered her a home. Henceforth she is my daughter."
+
+"You have asked her to stay, and she has consented?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"And you thought--you think--of taking a home for yourselves?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I suppose you do not object," said Brian, slowly, "to the gossip to
+which such a step on your part is sure to give rise?"
+
+"I have not considered the matter. Gossip will not touch me."
+
+"No." Brian would not for worlds have said that the step she
+contemplated taking would be disastrous for him. Yet for one moment, he
+could not banish the consciousness that all the world would now have
+good reason to believe that his mother held him guilty of his brother's
+death. He did not know that the world suspected him already.
+
+It was with an unmoved front that he presently continued.
+
+"I, myself, had a proposition to make which would perhaps render it
+needless for you to leave Netherglen, which, as you say, is legally your
+own. You may not have considered that I am hardly likely to have much
+love for the place after what has occurred in it. You know that neither
+you nor I can sell any portion of the property--even you would not care
+to let it, I suppose, to strangers for the present. I think of going
+abroad--probably probably for some years. I have always wanted to
+travel. The house on the Strathleckie side of the property can be let;
+and as for Netherglen, it would be an advantage for the place if you
+made it your home for as many months in the year as you chose. I don't
+see why you should not do so. I shall not return to this neighbourhood."
+
+"It does not seem to occur to you," said Mrs. Luttrell, in measured
+tones, "that Angela and I may also have an objection to residing in a
+place which will henceforth have so many painful memories attached to
+it."
+
+"If that is the case," said Brian, after a little pause, "there is no
+more to be said."
+
+"I will ask Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell, stretching out her hand to a
+little handbell which stood upon the table at her side.
+
+Brian started. "Then I will come to you again," he said, moving hastily
+to the door. "I will see you after lunch."
+
+"Pray do not go," said his mother, giving two very decisive strokes of
+the bell by means of a pressure of her firm, white fingers. "Let us
+settle the matter while we are about it. There will be no need of a
+second interview."
+
+"But Angela will not want to see me."
+
+"Angela----Ask Miss Vivian to come to me at once if she can" (to the
+maid who appeared at the door)--"Angela expressed a wish to see you this
+morning."
+
+Brian stood erect by the mantelpiece, biting his lips under his soft,
+brown moustache, and very much disposed to take the matter into his own
+hands, and walk straight out of the room. But some time or other Angela
+must be faced; perhaps as well now as at any other time. He waited,
+therefore, in silence, until the door opened and Angela appeared.
+
+"Brian!" said the soft voice, in as kind and sisterly a tone as he had
+ever heard from her.
+
+"Brian!"
+
+She was close to him, but he dared not look up until she took his
+unresisting hand in hers and held it tenderly. Then he raised his head a
+very little and looked at her.
+
+She had always been pale, but now she was snow-white, and the extreme
+delicacy and even fragility of her appearance were thrown into strong
+relief by the dead black of her mourning gown. Her eyes were full of
+tears, and her lips were quivering; but Brian knew in a moment, by
+instinct, that she at least believed in the innocence of his heart,
+although his hand had taken his brother's life. He stooped down and
+kissed the hand that held his own, so humbly, so sorrowfully, that
+Angela's heart yearned over him. She understood him, and she had room,
+even in her great grief, to be sorry for him too. And when he withdrew
+his hand and turned away from her with one deep sob that he did not know
+how to repress, she tried to comfort him.
+
+"Dear Brian," she said, "I know--I understand. Poor fellow! it is very
+hard for you. It is hard for us all; but I think it is hardest of all
+for you."
+
+"I would have given my life for his, Angela," said Brian, in a smothered
+voice.
+
+"I know you would. I know you loved him," said Angela, the tears
+streaming now down her pale cheeks. "There is only one thing for us to
+say, Brian--It was God's will that he should go."
+
+"How you must hate the sight of me," groaned Brian. He had almost
+forgotten the presence of Mrs. Luttrell, whose hard, watchful eyes were
+taking notice of every detail of the scene.
+
+"I will not trouble you long; I am going to leave Scotland; I will go
+far away; you shall never see my face again."
+
+"But I should be sorry for that," said Angela's soft, caressing voice,
+into which a tremor stole from time to time that made it doubly sweet.
+"I shall want to see you again. Promise me that you will come back,
+Brian--some day."
+
+"Some day?" he repeated, mournfully. "Well, some day, Angela, when you
+can look on me without so much pain as you must needs feel now, any day
+when you have need of me. But, as I am going so very soon, will you tell
+me yourself whether Netherglen is a place that you hold in utter
+abhorrence now? Would it hurt you to make Netherglen your home? Could
+you and my mother find happiness--or at least peace--if you lived here
+together? or would it be too great a trial for you to bear?"
+
+"It rests with you to decide, Angela," said Mrs. Luttrell from her sofa.
+"I have no choice; it signifies little to me whether I go or stay. If it
+would pain you to live at Netherglen, say so; and we will choose another
+home."
+
+"Pain me?" said Angela. "To stay here--in Richard's home?"
+
+"Would you dislike it?" asked Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+The girl came to her side, and put her arms round the mother's neck.
+Mrs. Luttrell's face softened curiously as she did so; she laid one of
+her hands upon Angela's shining hair with a caressing movement.
+
+"Dislike it? It would be my only happiness," said Angela. She stopped,
+and then went on with soft vehemence--"To think that I was in his house,
+that I looked on the things that he used to see every day, that I could
+sometimes do the thing that he would have liked to see me doing--it is
+all I could wish for, all that life could give me now! Yes, yes, let us
+stay."
+
+"It's perhaps not so good for you as one might wish," said Mrs.
+Luttrell, regarding her tenderly. "You had perhaps better have a change
+for a time; there is no reason why you should live for ever in the past,
+like an old woman, Angela. The day will come when you may wish to make
+new ties for yourself--new interests----"
+
+Angela's whisper reached her ear alone.
+
+"'Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after
+thee,'" she murmured in the words of the widowed Moabitess, "'for
+whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy
+people shall be my people, and thy God my God...'"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell clasped her in her arms and kissed her forehead. Then
+after a little pause she said to Brian--
+
+"We will stay."
+
+Brian bowed his head.
+
+"I will make all necessary arrangements with Mr. Colquhoun, and send him
+to you," he said. "I think there is nothing else about which we have to
+speak?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily.
+
+"Except Hugo. As I am going away from home for so long I think it would
+be better if I settled a certain sum in the Funds upon him, so that he
+might have a moderate income as well as his pay. Does that meet with
+your approval?"
+
+"My approval matters very little, but you can do as you choose with your
+own money. I suppose you wish that this house should be kept open for
+him?"
+
+"That is as you please. He would be better for a home. May I ask what
+Angela thinks?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Angela, lifting her face slowly from Mrs. Luttrell's
+shoulder. "He must not feel that he has lost a home, must he, mother?"
+She pronounced the title which Mrs. Luttrell had begged her to bestow,
+still with a certain diffidence and hesitancy; but Mrs. Luttrell's brow
+smoothed when she heard it.
+
+"We will do what we can for him," she said.
+
+"He has not been very steady of late," Brian went on slowly, wondering
+whether he was right to conceal Hugo's misdeeds and evil tendencies. "I
+hope he will improve; you will have patience with him if he is not very
+wise. And now, will you let me say good-bye to you? I shall leave
+Netherglen to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?" said Angela, wonderingly. "Why should you go so soon?"
+
+"It is better so," Brian answered.
+
+"But we shall know where you are. You will write?"
+
+His eyes sought his mother's face. She would not look at him. He spoke
+in an unnaturally quiet voice, "I do not know."
+
+"Mother, will you not tell him to write to you?" said Angela.
+
+The mother sat silent, unresponsive. It was plain that she cared for no
+letter from this son of hers.
+
+"I will leave my address with Mr. Colquhoun, Angela," said Brian,
+forcing a slight, sad smile. "If there is business for me to transact,
+he will be able to let me know. I shall hear from him how you all are,
+from time to time."
+
+"Will you not write to me, then?" said Angela.
+
+Brian darted an inquiring glance at her. Oh, what divine pity, what
+sublime forgetfulness of self, gleamed out of those tender,
+tear-reddened eyes!
+
+"Will you let me?" he said, almost timidly.
+
+"I should like you to write. I shall look for your letters, Brian. Don't
+forget that I shall be anxious for news of you."
+
+Almost without knowing what he did, he sank down on his knees before
+her, and touched her hand reverently with his lips. She bent forward and
+kissed his forehead as a sister might have done.
+
+"God bless you, Angela!" he said. He could not utter another word.
+
+"Mother," said the girl, taking in hers the passive hand of the woman,
+who had sat with face averted--perhaps so that she should not meet the
+eyes of the man whom she could not forgive--"mother, speak to him; say
+good-bye to him before he goes."
+
+The mother's hand trembled and tried to withdraw itself, but Angela
+would not let it go.
+
+"One kind word to him, mother," she said. "See, he is kneeling before
+you. Only look at him and you will see how he has suffered! Don't let
+him go away from you without one word."
+
+She guided Mrs. Luttrell's hand to Brian's head; and there for a moment
+it rested heavily. Then she spoke.
+
+"If I have been unjust, may God forgive me!" she said.
+
+Then she withdrew her hand and rose from her seat. She did not even look
+behind her as she walked to the bed-room door, pushed it open, entered,
+and closed it, and turned the key in the old-fashioned lock. She had
+said all that she meant to say: no power, human or divine, should wrest
+another word from her just then. But in her heart she was crying over
+and over again the words that had been upon her lips a hundred times to
+say.
+
+"He is no son of mine--no son of mine--this man by whose hand Richard
+Luttrell fell. I am childless. Both my sons are dead."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A FAREWELL.
+
+
+There was a little, sunny, green walk opposite the dining-room windows,
+edged on either side by masses of white and crimson phlox and a row of
+sunflowers, where the gentlemen of the house were in the habit of taking
+their morning stroll and smoking their first cigar. It was here that
+Hugo was slowly pacing up and down when Brian Luttrell came out of the
+house in search of him.
+
+Hugo gave him a searching glance as he approached, and was not
+reassured. Brian's face wore a curiously restrained expression, which
+gave it a look of sternness. Hugo's heart beat fast; he threw away the
+end of his cigar, and advanced to meet his cousin with an air of
+unconcern which was evidently assumed for the occasion. It passed
+unremarked, however. Brian was in no mood for considering Hugo's
+expression of countenance.
+
+They took two or three turns up and down the garden walk without
+uttering a word. Brian was absorbed in thought, and Hugo had his own
+reasons for being afraid to open his mouth. It was Brian who spoke at
+last.
+
+"Come away from the house," he said. "I want to speak to you, and we
+can't talk easily underneath all these windows. We'll go down to the
+loch."
+
+"Not to the loch," said Hugo, hastily.
+
+Brian considered a moment. "You are right," he said, in a low tone, "we
+won't go there. Come this way." For the moment he had forgotten that
+painful scene at the boat-house, which no doubt made Hugo shrink
+sensitively from the sight of the place. He was sorry that he had
+suggested it.
+
+The day was calm and mild, but not brilliant. The leaves of the trees
+had taken on an additional tinge of autumnal yellow and red since Brian
+last looked at them with an observant eye. For the past week he had
+thought of nothing but of the intolerable grief and pain that had come
+upon him. But now the peace and quiet of the day stole upon him
+unawares; there was a restfulness in the sight of the steadfast hills,
+of the waving trees--a sense of tranquility even in the fall of the
+yellowing leaves and the flight of the migrating song-birds overhead.
+His eye grew calmer, his brow more smooth, as he walked silently onward;
+he drew a long breath, almost like one of relief; then he stopped short,
+and leaned against the trunk of a tall fir tree, looking absently before
+him, as though he had forgotten the reason for his proposed interview
+with his cousin. Hugo grew impatient. They had left the garden, and were
+walking down a grassy little-trodden lane between two tracks of wooded
+ground; it led to the tiny hamlet at the head of the loch, and thence to
+the high road. Hugo wondered whether the conversation were to be held
+upon the public highway or in the lane. If it had to do with his own
+private affairs, he felt that he would prefer the lane. But he dared not
+precipitate matters by speaking.
+
+Brian recollected his purpose at last, however. After a short interval
+of silence he turned his eyes upon Hugo, who was standing near him, and
+said, gently--
+
+"Sit down, won't you?--then we can talk."
+
+There was a fallen log on the ground. Hugo took his seat on it meekly
+enough, but continued his former occupation of digging up, with the
+point of a stick that he was carrying, the roots of all the plants
+within his reach. He was so much absorbed by this pursuit that he seemed
+hardly to attend to the next words that Brian spoke.
+
+"I ought, perhaps, to have had a talk with you before," he said.
+"Matters have been in a very unsettled state, as you well know. But
+there are one or two points that ought to be settled without delay."
+
+Hugo ceased his work of destruction; and apparently disposed himself to
+listen.
+
+"First, your own affairs. You have hitherto had an allowance, I
+believe--how much?"
+
+"Two hundred," said Hugo, sulkily, "since I joined."
+
+"And your pay. And you could not make that sufficient?"
+
+Hugo's face flushed, he did not answer. He sat still, looking sullenly
+at the ground. Brian waited for a little while, and then went on.
+
+"I don't want to preach, old fellow, but you know I can't help thinking
+that, by a little decent care and forethought, you ought to have made
+that do. Still, it's no good my saying so, is it? What is done cannot be
+undone--would God it could!"
+
+He stopped short again: his voice had grown hoarse. Hugo, with the dusky
+red still tingeing his delicate, dark face, hung his head and made no
+reply.
+
+"One can but try to do better for the future," said Brian, somewhat
+unsteadily, after that moment's pause. "Hugo, dear boy, will you promise
+that, at least?"
+
+He put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. Hugo tried to shrink away,
+then, finding this impossible, averted his face and partly hid it with
+his hands.
+
+"It's no good making vague promises," he said by-and-bye. "What do you
+mean? If you want me to promise to live on my pay or anything of that
+sort----"
+
+"Nothing of that sort," Brian interrupted him. "Only, that you will act
+honourably and straightforwardly--that you will not touch what is not
+your own----"
+
+Hugo shook off the kindly hand and started up with something like an
+oath upon his lips. "Why are you always talking about that affair! I
+thought it was past and done with," he said, turning his back upon his
+cousin, and switching the grass savagely with his cane.
+
+"Always talking about it! Be reasonable, Hugo."
+
+"It was only because I was at my wits' end for money," said the lad,
+irritably. "And that came in my way, and--I had never taken any
+before----"
+
+"And never will again," said Brian. "That's what I want to hear you
+say."
+
+But Hugo would say nothing. He stood, the impersonation of silent
+obstinacy, digging the end of his stick into the earth, or striking at
+the blue bells and the brambles within reach, resolved to utter no word
+which Brian could twist into any sort of promise for the future. He knew
+that his silence might injure his prospects, by lowering him in Brian's
+estimation--Brian being now the arbiter of his fate--but for all that he
+could not bring himself to make submission or to profess penitence.
+Something made the words stick in his throat; no power on earth would at
+that moment have forced him to speak.
+
+"Well," said Brian at last, in a tone which showed deep disappointment,
+"I am sorry that you won't go so far, Hugo. I hope you will do well,
+however, without professions. Still, I should have been better satisfied
+to have your word for it--before I left Netherglen."
+
+"Where are you going?" said Hugo, suddenly facing him.
+
+"I don't quite know."
+
+"To London?"
+
+"No, Abroad."
+
+"Abroad?" repeated Hugo, with a wondering accent. "Why should you go
+abroad?"
+
+"That's my own business."
+
+"But--but--" said the lad, flushing and paling, and stammering with
+eagerness, "I thought that you would stay here, and that Netherglen and
+everything would belong to you, and--and----"
+
+"And that I should shoot, and fish, and ride, and disport myself gaily
+over my brother's inheritance--that my own hand deprived him of!" cried
+Brian, with angry bitterness. "It is so likely! Is it you who have no
+feeling, or do you fancy that I have none?"
+
+"But the place is yours," faltered Hugo, with a guilty look,
+"Strathleckie is yours, if Netherglen is not."
+
+"Mine! Yes, it is mine after a fashion," said Brian, while a hot, red
+flush crept up to his forehead, and his brows contracted painfully over
+his sad, dark eyes. "It is mine by law; mine by my father's will; and if
+it had come into my hands by any other way--if my brother had not died
+through my own carelessness--I suppose that I might have learnt to enjoy
+it like any other man. But as it is--I wish that every acre of it were
+at the bottom of the loch, and I there, too, for the matter of that! I
+have made up my mind that I will not benefit by Richard's death. Others
+may have the use of his wealth, but I am the last that should touch it.
+I will have the two or three hundred a year that he used to give me, and
+I will have nothing more."
+
+Hugo's face had grown pale. He looked more dismayed by this utterance
+than by anything that Brian as yet had said. He opened his lips once or
+twice before he could find his voice, and it was in curiously rough and
+broken tones that he at length asked a question.
+
+"Is this because of what people say about--about you--and--Richard?"
+
+He seemed to find it difficult to pronounce the dead man's name. Brian
+lifted up his face.
+
+"What do people say about me and Richard, then?" he said.
+
+Hugo retreated a little.
+
+"If you don't know," he said, looking down miserably, "I can't tell
+you."
+
+Brian's eyes blazed with sudden wrath.
+
+"You have said too little or too much," he said. "I must know the rest.
+What is it that people say?"
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"No, I do not know. Out with it."
+
+"I can't tell you," said Hugo, biting his lips. "Don't ask me, ask
+someone else. Anyone."
+
+"Is 'anyone' sure to know? I will hear it from you, and from no one
+else. What do people say?"
+
+Hugo looked up at him and then down again. The struggle that was waging
+between the powers of good and evil in his soul had its effect even on
+his outer man. His very lips turned white as he considered what he
+should say.
+
+Brian noted this change of colour, and was moved by it, thinking that he
+understood Hugo's reluctance to give him pain. He subdued his own
+impatience, and spoke in a lower, quieter voice.
+
+"Don't take it to heart, Hugo, whatever it may be. It cannot be worse
+than the thing I have heard already--from my mother. I don't suppose I
+shall mind it much. They say, perhaps, that I--that I shot my
+brother"--(in spite of himself, Brian's voice trembled with passionate
+indignation)--"that I killed Richard purposely--knowing what I did--in
+order to possess myself of this miserable estate of his--is that what
+they say?"
+
+Hugo answered by a bare little monosyllable--
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who says this?"
+
+"Everyone. The whole country side."
+
+"Then--if this is believed so generally--why have no steps been taken to
+prove my guilt? Good God, my guilt! Why should I not be prosecuted at
+once for murder?"
+
+"There would be no evidence, they say." Hugo murmured, uneasily. "It is
+simply a matter of assertion; you say you shot at a bird, not seeing
+him, and they say that you must have known that he was there. That is
+all."
+
+"A matter of assertion! Well, they are right so far. If they don't
+believe my word, there is no more to be said," replied Brian, sadly, his
+excitement suddenly forsaking him. "Only I never thought that my word
+would even be asked for on such a subject by people who had known me all
+my life. You don't doubt me, do you, Hugo?"
+
+"How could I?" said Hugo, in a voice so low and shaken that Brian could
+scarcely hear the words. But he felt instinctively that the lad's trust
+in him, on that one point, at least, had not wavered, and with a warm
+thrill of affection and gratitude he held out his hand. It gave him a
+rude shock to see that Hugo drew back and would not take it.
+
+"What! you don't trust me after all?" he said, quickly.
+
+"I--I do," cried Hugo, "but--what does it matter what I think? I'm not
+fit to take your hand--I cannot--I cannot----"
+
+His emotion was so genuine that Brian felt some surprise, and also some
+compunction for having distrusted him before.
+
+"Dear Hugo," he said, gently, "I shall know you better now. We have
+always been friends; don't forget that we are friends still, although I
+may be on the other side of the world. I'm going to try and lose myself
+in some out-of-the-way place, and live where nobody will ever know my
+story, but I shall be rather glad to think sometimes that, at any rate,
+you understand what I felt about poor Richard--that you never once
+misjudged me--I won't forget it, Hugo, I assure you."
+
+He pressed Hugo's still reluctant hand, and then made him sit down
+beside him upon the fallen tree.
+
+"We must talk business now," he said, more cheerfully--though it was a
+sad kind of cheerfulness after all--"for we have not much time left. I
+hear the luncheon-bell already. Shall we finish our talk first? You
+don't care for luncheon? No more do I. Where had we got to? Only to the
+initial step--that I was going abroad. I have several other things to
+explain to you."
+
+His eyes looked out into the distance as he spoke; his voice lost its
+forced cheerfulness, and became immeasurably grave and sad. Hugo
+listened with hidden face. He did not care to turn his gloomy brows and
+anxiously-twitching lips towards the speaker.
+
+"I shall never come back to Scotland," said Brian, slowly. "To England I
+may come some day, but it will be after many years. My mother has the
+management of Strathleckie; as well as of Netherglen, which belongs to
+her. She will live here, and use the house and dispose of the revenues
+as she pleases. Angela remains with her."
+
+"But if you marry----"
+
+"I shall never marry. My life is spoilt--ruined. I could not ask any
+woman to share it with me. I shall be a wanderer on the face of the
+earth--like Cain."
+
+"No, no!" cried Hugo, passionately. "Not like Cain. There is no curse on
+you----"
+
+"Not even my mother's curse? I am not sure," said Brian. "I shall be a
+wanderer, at any rate; so much is certain: living on my three hundred a
+year, very comfortably, no doubt; until this life is over, and I come
+out clear on the other side----"
+
+Hugo lifted his face. "You don't mean," he whispered, with a look of
+terrified suspicion, "that you would ever lay hands on yourself, and
+shorten your life in that way?"
+
+"Why, no. What makes you think that I should choose such a course? I
+hope I am not a coward," said Brian, simply. "No, I shall live out my
+days somewhere--somehow; but there is no harm in wishing that they were
+over."
+
+There was a pause. The dreamy expression of Brian's eyes seemed to
+betoken that his thoughts were far away. Hugo moved his stick nervously
+through the grass at his feet. He could not look up.
+
+"What else have you to tell me?" he said at last.
+
+"Do you know the way in which Strathleckie was settled?" said Brian,
+quietly, coming down to earth from some high vision of other worlds and
+other lives than ours. "Do you know that my grandfather made a curious
+will about it?"
+
+"No," said Hugo. It was false, for he knew the terms of the will quite
+well; but he thought it more becoming to profess ignorance.
+
+"This place belonged to my mother's father. It was left to her children
+and their direct heirs; failing heirs, it reverts to a member of her
+family, a man of the name of Gordon Murray. We have no power to alienate
+any portion of it. The rents are ours, the house and lands are ours, for
+our lives only. If we die, you see, without children, the property goes
+to these Murrays."
+
+"Cousins of yours, are they?"
+
+"Second cousins. I have never troubled myself about the exact degree of
+relationship until within the last day or two. I find that Gordon Murray
+would be my second cousin once removed, and that his child or
+children--he has more than one, I believe--would, therefore, be my third
+cousins. A little while ago I should have thought it highly improbable
+that any of the Gordon Murrays would ever come into possession of
+Strathleckie, but it is not at all improbable now."
+
+"Where do these Murrays live?"
+
+"In London, I think. I am not sure. I have asked Colquhoun to find out
+all that he can about them. If there is a young fellow in the family, it
+might be well to let him know his prospects and invite him down. I could
+settle an income on him if he were poor. Then the estate would benefit
+somebody."
+
+"You can do as you like with the income," said Hugo.
+
+The words escaped him half against his will. He stole a glance at Brian
+when they were uttered, as if anxious to ascertain whether or no his
+cousin had divined his own grudging, envious thoughts. He heartily
+wished that Richard's money had come to him. In Brian's place it would
+never have crossed his mind that he should throw away the good fortune
+that had fallen to his lot. If only he were in this lucky young Murray's
+shoes!
+
+Brian did not guess the thoughts that passed through Hugo's mind, but
+that murmured speech reminded him of another point which he wished to
+make quite clear.
+
+"Yes, I can do what I like with the income," he said, "and also with a
+sum of money that my father invested many years ago which nobody has
+touched at present. There are twelve thousand pounds in the Funds, part
+of which I propose to settle upon you so as to make you more independent
+of my help in the future."
+
+Hugo stammered out something a little incoherent; it was a proposition
+which took him completely by surprise. Brian continued quietly--
+
+"Of course, I might continue the allowance that you have had hitherto,
+but then, in the event of my death, it would cease, for I cannot leave
+it to you by will. I have thought that it would be better, therefore, to
+transfer to you six thousand pounds, Hugo, over which you have complete
+control. All I ask is that you won't squander it. Colquhoun says that he
+can safely get you five per cent for it. I would put it in his hands, if
+I were you. It will then bring you in three hundred a year."
+
+"Brian, you are too good to me," said Hugo. There were tears in his
+eyes; his voice trembled and his cheek flushed as he spoke "You don't
+know----"
+
+Then he stopped and covered his face with his hands. A very unwonted
+feeling of shame and regret overpowered him; it was as much as he could
+do to refrain from crying like a child. "I can't thank you," he said,
+with a sob which made Brian smile a little, and lay his hand
+affectionately on his shoulder.
+
+"Don't thank me, dear boy," he said. "It's very little to do for you;
+but it will perhaps help to keep you out of difficulties. And if you are
+in any trouble, go to Colquhoun. I will tell him how far he may go on
+helping you, and you can trust him. He shall not even tell me what you
+say to him, if you don't wish me to know. But, for Heaven's sake, Hugo,
+try to keep straight, and bring no disgrace upon our name. I have done
+what I could for you--I may do more, if necessary; but there are
+circumstances in which I should not be able to help you at all, and you
+know what those are."
+
+He thought that he understood Hugo's impulsive disposition, but even he
+was not prepared for the burst of passionate remorse and affection with
+which the boy threw himself almost at his feet, kissing his hands and
+sobbing out promises of amendment with all the abandonment of his
+Southern nature. Brian was inclined to be displeased with this want of
+self-control; he spoke sharply at last and told him to command himself.
+But some time elapsed before Hugo regained his calmness. And when Brian
+returned to the house, he could not induce his cousin to return with
+him; the young fellow wandered away through the woods with drooping head
+and dejected mien, and was seen no more till late at night.
+
+He came back to the house too late to say good-bye to Brian, who had
+left a few lines of farewell for him. His absence, perhaps, added a pang
+to the keen pain with which Brian left his home; but if so, no trace of
+it was discernible in the kindly words which he had addressed to his
+cousin. He saw neither his mother nor Angela before he went; indeed, he
+avoided any formal parting from the household in general, and let it be
+thought that he was likely to return in a short time. But as he took
+from his groom the reins of the dog-cart in which he was about to drive
+down to the station, he looked round him sadly and lingeringly, with a
+firm conviction at his heart that never again would his eyes rest upon
+the shining loch, the purple hills, and the ivy-grown, grey walls of
+Netherglen. Never again. He had said his last farewell. He had no home
+now!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+IN GOWER-STREET.
+
+
+Angela Vivian's brother Rupert was, perhaps, not unlike her in feature
+and colouring, but there was a curious dissimilarity of expression
+between the two. Angela's dark, grey eyes had a sweetness in which
+Rupert's were lacking; the straight, regular features, which with her
+were brightened by a tender play of emotion, were, with him, cold and
+grave. The mouth was a fastidious one; the bearing of the man, though
+full of distinction, could sometimes be almost repellantly haughty. The
+merest sketch of him would not be complete unless we added that his
+dress was faultless, and that he was apt to bestow a somewhat finical
+care upon the minor details of his toilet.
+
+It was in October, when "everybody" was still supposed to be out of
+town, that Rupert Vivian walked composedly down Gower-street meditating
+on the news which the latest post had brought him. In sheer absence of
+mind he almost passed the house at which he had been intending to call,
+and he stood for a minute or two upon the steps, as if not quite sure
+whether or no he would enter. Finally, however, he knocked at the door
+and rang the bell, then prepared himself, with a resigned air, to wait
+until it should be opened. He had never yet found that a first summons
+gained him admittance to that house.
+
+After waiting five minutes and knocking twice, a slatternly maid
+appeared and asked him to walk upstairs. Rupert followed her leisurely;
+he knew very well what sort of reception to expect, and was not
+surprised when she merely opened the drawing-room door, and left him to
+announce himself. "No ceremony" was the rule in the Herons' household,
+and very objectionable Rupert Vivian sometimes found it.
+
+The day had been foggy and dark, and a bright fire threw a cheerful
+light over the scene which presented itself to Rupert's eyes. A pleasant
+clinking of spoons and cups and saucers met his ear. He stood at the
+door for a moment unobserved, listening and looking on. He was a
+privileged person in that house, and considered himself quite at liberty
+to look and listen if he chose.
+
+The room had an air of comfort verging upon luxury, but if was untidy to
+a degree which Rupert thought disgraceful. For the rich hues of the
+curtains, the artistic character of the Japanese screens and Oriental
+embroideries, the exquisite landscape-paintings on the walls, were
+compatible with grave deficiencies in the list of more ordinary articles
+of furniture. There were two or three picturesque, high-backed chairs,
+made of rosewood (black with age) and embossed leather, but the rest of
+the seats consisted of divans, improvised by ingenious fingers out of
+packing-boxes and cushions covered with Morris chintzes; or brown
+Windsor chairs, evidently imported straight from the kitchen. A battered
+old writing-desk had an incongruous look when placed next to a costly
+buhl clock on a table inlaid indeed with mother-of-pearl, but wanting in
+one leg; and so no valuable blue china was apt to pass unobserved upon
+the mantelpiece because it was generally found in company with a child's
+mug, a plate of crusts, or a painting-rag. A grand piano stood open, and
+was strewn with sheets of music; two sketching portfolios conspicuously
+adorned the hearth-rug. A tea-table was drawn up near the fire, and the
+firelight was reflected pleasantly in the gleaming silver and porcelain
+of the tea-service.
+
+The human elements of the scene were very diverse. Mrs. Heron, a
+languid-looking, fair-haired woman, lay at full length on one of the
+divans. Her step-daughter, Kitty, sat at the tea-table, and Kitty's
+elder brother, Percival, a tall, broad-shouldered young man of
+eight-and-twenty, was leaning against the mantelpiece. A girl, who
+looked about twenty-one years of age was sitting in the deepest shadow
+of the room. The firelight played upon her hands, which lay quietly
+folded before her in her lap, but it did not touch her face. Two or
+three children were playing about the floor with their toys and a white
+fox-terrier. The young man was talking very fast, two at least of the
+ladies were laughing, the children were squabbling and shouting. It was
+a Babel. As Rupert stood at the door he caught the sense of Percival's
+last rapid sentences.
+
+"No right nor wrong in the case. You must allow me to say that you take
+an exclusively feminine view of the matter, which, of course, is narrow.
+I have as much right to sell my brains to the highest bidder as my
+friend Vivian has to sell his pictures when he gets the chance--which
+isn't often."
+
+"There is nothing like the candour of an impartial friend," said Rupert,
+good-humouredly, as he advanced into the room. "Allow me to tell you
+that I sold my last painting this morning. How do you do, Mrs. Heron?"
+
+His appearance produced a lull in the storm. Percival ceased to talk and
+looked slightly--very slightly--disconcerted. Mrs. Heron half rose;
+Kitty made a raid upon the children's toys, and carried some of them to
+the other end of the room, whither the tribe followed her, lamenting.
+Then, Percival laughed aloud.
+
+"Where did you come from?" he said, in a round, mellow, genial voice,
+which was singularly pleasant to the ear. "'Listeners hear no good of
+themselves.' You've proved the proverb."
+
+"Not for the first time when you are the speaker. I have found that out.
+How are you, Kitty? Good evening, Miss Murray."
+
+"How good of you to come to see us, Mr. Vivian!" said Mrs. Heron, in a
+low, sweetly-modulated voice, as she held out one long, white hand to
+her visitor. She re-arranged her draperies a little, and lay back
+gracefully when she had spoken. Rupert had never seen her do anything
+but lie on sofas in graceful attitudes since he first made her
+acquaintance. It was her _metier_. Nobody expected anything else from
+her except vague, theoretic talk, which she called philosophy. She had
+been Kitty's governess in days gone by. Mr. Heron, an artist of some
+repute, married her when he had been a widower for twelve months only.
+Since that time she had become the mother of three handsome, but
+decidedly noisy, children, and had lapsed by degrees into the life of a
+useless, fine lady, to whom household cares and the duties of a mother
+were mere drudgery, and were left to fall as much as possible on the
+shoulders of other people. Nevertheless, Mrs. Heron's selfishness was of
+a gentle and even loveable type. She was seldom out of humour, rarely
+worried or fretful; she was only persistently idle, and determined to
+consider herself in feeble health.
+
+Vivian's acquaintance with the Herons dated from his first arrival in
+London, six years ago, when he boarded with them for a few months. The
+disorder of the household had proved too great a trial to his fastidious
+tastes to be borne for a longer space of time. He had, however, formed a
+firm friendship with the whole family, especially with Percival; and for
+the last three or four years the two young men had occupied rooms in the
+same house and virtually lived together. To anyone who knew the
+characters of the friends, their friendship was somewhat remarkable.
+Vivian's fault was an excess of polish and refinement; he attached
+unusual value to matters of mere taste and culture. Possibly this was
+the link which really attached him to Percival Heron, who was a man of
+considerable intellectual power, although possessed sometimes by a sort
+of irrepressible brusqueness and roughness of manner, with which he
+could make himself exceedingly disagreeable even to his friends.
+Percival was taller, stronger, broader about the shoulders, deeper in
+the chest, than Vivian--in fact, a handsomer man in all respects.
+Well-cut features, pale, but healthy-looking; brilliant, restless, dark
+eyes; thick brown hair and moustache; a well-knit, vigorous frame, which
+gave no sign as yet of the stoutness to which it inclined in later
+years, these were points that made his appearance undeniably striking
+and attractive. A physiognomist might, however, have found something to
+blame as well as to praise in his features. There was an ominous upright
+line between the dark brows, which surely told of a variable temper; the
+curl of the laughing lips, and the fall of the heavy moustache only half
+concealed a curious over-sensitiveness in the lines of the too mobile
+mouth. It was not the face of a great thinker nor of a great saint, but
+of a humorous, quick-witted, impatient man, of wide intelligence, and
+very irritable nervous organisation.
+
+The air of genial hilarity which he could sometimes wear was doubtless
+attractive to a man of Vivian's reserved temperament. Percival's
+features beamed with good humour--he laughed with his whole heart when
+anything amused him. Vivian used to look at him in wonder sometimes, and
+think that Percival was more like a great overgrown boy than a man of
+eight-and-twenty. On the other hand, Percival said that Vivian was a
+prig.
+
+Kitty, sitting at the tea-table, did not think so. She loved her brother
+very much, but she considered Mr. Vivian a hero, a demigod, something a
+little lower, perhaps, than the angels, but not very much. Kitty was
+only sixteen, which accounts, possibly, for her delusion on this
+subject. She was slim, and round, and white, with none of the usual
+awkwardness of her age about her. She had a well-set, graceful little
+head, and small, piquant features; her complexion had not much colour,
+but her pretty lips showed the smallest and pearliest of teeth when she
+smiled, and her dark eyes sparkled and danced under the thin, dark curve
+of her eyebrows and the shade of her long, curling lashes. Then her hair
+would not on any account lie straight, but disposed itself in dainty
+tendrils and love-locks over her forehead, which gave her almost a
+childish look, and was a serious trouble to Miss Kitty herself, who
+preferred her step-mother's abundant flaxen plaits, and did not know the
+charm that those soft rings of curling hair lent to her irregular,
+little face.
+
+Vivian took a cup of tea from her with an indulgent smile, He liked
+Kitty extremely well. He lent her books sometimes, which she did not
+always read. I am afraid that he tried to form her mind. Kitty had a
+mind of her own, which did not want forming. Perhaps Percival Heron, was
+right when he said that Vivian was a prig. He certainly liked to lecture
+Kitty; and she used to look up at him with great, grave eyes when he was
+lecturing, and pretend to understand what he was saying. She very often
+did not understand a word; but Rupert never suspected that. He thought
+that Kitty was a very simple-minded little person.
+
+"There was quite an argument going on when you appeared, Mr. Vivian,"
+said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "It is sometimes a most difficult matter to
+decide what is right and what is wrong. I think you must decide for us."
+
+"I am not skilled in casuistry," said Vivian, smiling. "Is Percival
+giving forth some of his heresies?"
+
+"I was never less heretical in my life," cried Percival. "State your
+case, Bess; I'll give you the precedence."
+
+Vivian turned towards the dark corner.
+
+"It is Miss Murray's difficulty, is it?" he said, with a look of some
+interest. "I shall be glad to hear it."
+
+The girl in the dark corner stirred a little uneasily, but she spoke
+with no trepidation of manner, and her voice was clear and cool.
+
+"The question," she said, "is whether a man may write articles in a
+daily paper, advocating views which are not his own, simply because they
+are the views of the editor. I call it dishonesty."
+
+"So do I," said Kitty, warmly.
+
+"Dishonesty? Not a bit of it," rejoined Percival. "The writer is the
+mouthpiece of the paper, which advocates certain views; he sinks his
+individuality; he does not profess to explain his own opinions. Besides,
+after all, what is dishonesty? Why should people erect honesty into such
+a great virtue? It is like truth-telling and--peaches; nobody wants them
+out of their proper season; they are never good when they are forced."
+
+"I don't see any analogy between truth-telling and peaches," said the
+calm voice from the corner.
+
+"You tell the truth all the year round, don't you, Bess?" said Kitty,
+with a little malice.
+
+"But we are mortal, and don't attempt to practice exotic virtues," said
+Percival, mockingly. "I see no reason why I should not flourish upon
+what is called dishonesty, just as I see no reason why I should not tell
+lies. It is only the diseased sensibility of modern times which condemns
+either."
+
+"Modern times?" said Vivian. "I have heard of a commandment----"
+
+"Good Heavens!" said Percival, throwing back his handsome head, "Vivian
+is going to be didactic! I think this conversation has lasted quite long
+enough. Elizabeth, consider yourself worsted in the argument, and
+contest the point no longer."
+
+"There has been no argument," said Elizabeth. "There has been assertion
+on your part, and indignation on ours; that is all."
+
+"Then am I to consider myself worsted?" asked Percival. But he got no
+answer. Presently, however, he burst out with renewed vigour.
+
+"Right and wrong! What does it mean? I hate the very sound of the words.
+What is right to me is wrong to you, and _vice versa_. It's all a matter
+of convention. 'Now, who shall arbitrate? as Browning says--
+
+      'Now, who shall arbitrate?
+      Ten men love what I hate,
+    Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;
+      Ten, who in ears and eyes
+      Match me; we all surmise,
+    They, this thing, and I, that; whom shall my soul believe?"
+
+The lines rang out boldly upon the listeners' ears. Percival was one of
+the few men who can venture to recite poetry without making themselves
+ridiculous. He continued hotly--
+
+"There is neither truth nor falsehood in the world, and those who aver
+that there is are either impostors or dupes."
+
+"Ah," said Vivian, "you remind me of Bacon's celebrated sentence--'Many
+there be that say with jesting Pilate, What is truth? but do not wait
+for an answer.'"
+
+"I think you have both quoted quite enough," said Kitty, lightly. "You
+forget how little I understand of these deep subjects. I don't know how
+it is, but Percival always says the things most calculated to annoy
+people; he never visits papa's studio without abusing modern art, or
+meets a doctor without sneering at the medical profession, or loses an
+opportunity of telling Elizabeth, who loves truth for its own sake, that
+he enjoys trickery and falsehood, and thinks it clever to tell lies."
+
+"Very well put, Kitty," said Percival, approvingly. "You have hit off
+your brother's amiable character to the life. Like the child in the
+story, I could never tell why people loved me so, but now I know."
+
+There was a general laugh, and also a discordant clatter at the other
+end of the room, where the children, hitherto unnoticed, had come to
+blows over a broken toy.
+
+"What a noise they make!" said Percival, with a frown.
+
+"Perhaps they had better go away," murmured Mrs. Heron, gently. "Dear
+Lizzy, will you look after them a little? They are always good with
+you."
+
+The girl rose and went silently towards the three children, who at once
+clustered round her to pour their woes into her ear. She bent down and
+spoke to them lovingly, as it seemed, and finally quitted the room with
+one child clinging round her neck, and the others hanging to her gown.
+Percival gave vent to a sudden, impatient sigh.
+
+"Miss Murray is fond of children," said Vivian, looking after her
+pleasantly.
+
+"And I am not," snapped Kitty, with something of her brother's love of
+opposition in her tone. "I hate children."
+
+"You! You are only a child yourself," said he, turning towards her with
+a kindly look in his grave eyes, and an unwonted smile. But Kitty's
+wrath was appeased by neither look nor smile.
+
+"Then I had better join my compeers," she said, tartly. "I shall at
+least get the benefit of Elizabeth's affection for children."
+
+Vivian's chair was close to hers, and the tea-table partly hid them from
+Percival's lynx eyes. Mrs. Heron was half asleep. So there was nothing
+to hinder Mr. Rupert Vivian from putting out his hand and taking Kitty's
+soft fingers for a moment soothingly in his own. He did not mean
+anything but an elderly-brotherly, patronising sort of affection by it;
+but Kitty was "thrilled through every nerve" by that tender pressure,
+and sat mute as a mouse, while Vivian turned to her step-mother and
+began to speak.
+
+"I had some news this morning of my sister," he said. "You heard of the
+sad termination to her engagement?"
+
+"No; what was that?"
+
+"She was to be married before Christmas to a Mr. Luttrell; but Mr.
+Luttrell was killed a short time ago by a shot from his brother's gun
+when they were out shooting together."
+
+"How very sad!"
+
+"The brother has gone--or is going--abroad; report says that he takes
+the matter very much to heart. And Angela is going to live with Mrs.
+Luttrell, the mother of these two men. I thought these details might be
+interesting to you," said Vivian, looking round half-questioningly,
+"because I understand that the Luttrells are related to your young
+friend--or cousin--Miss Murray."
+
+"Indeed? I never heard her mention the name," said Mrs. Heron.
+
+Vivian thought of something that he had recently heard in connection
+with Miss Murray and the Luttrell family, and wondered whether she knew
+that if Brian Luttrell died unmarried she would succeed, to a great
+Scotch estate. But he said nothing more.
+
+"Where is Elizabeth?" said Percival, restlessly. "She is a great deal
+too much with these children--they drag the very life out of her. I
+shall go and find her."
+
+He marched away, noting as he went, with much dissatisfaction, that Mrs.
+Heron was inviting Vivian to dinner, and that he was accepting the
+invitation.
+
+He went to the top of the house, where he knew that a room was
+appropriated to the use of the younger children. Here he found Elizabeth
+for once without the three little Herons. She was standing in the middle
+of the room, engaged in the prosaic occupation of folding up a
+table-cloth.
+
+He stood in the doorway looking at her for a minute or two before he
+spoke. She was a tall girl, with fine shoulders, and beautiful arms and
+hands. He noticed them particularly as she held up the cloth, shook it
+out, and folded it. A clear, fine-grained skin, with a colour like that
+of a June rose in her cheeks, well-opened, calm-looking, grey-blue eyes,
+a mass of golden hair, almost too heavy for her head; a well-cut
+profile, and rather stately bearing, made Elizabeth Murray a noticeable
+person even amongst women more strictly beautiful than herself. She was
+poorly and plainly dressed, but poverty and plainness became her,
+throwing into strong relief the beauty of her rose-tints and
+finely-moulded figure. She did not start when she saw Percival at the
+door; she smiled at him frankly, and asked why he had come.
+
+"Do you know anything of the Luttrells?" he asked, abruptly.
+
+"The Luttrells of Netherglen? They are my third cousins."
+
+"You never speak of them."
+
+"I never saw them."
+
+"Do you know what has happened to one of them."
+
+"Yes. He shot his brother by mistake a few days ago."
+
+"I was thinking rather of the one who was killed," said Percival. "Where
+did you see the account? In the newspaper?"
+
+"Yes." Then she hesitated a little. "And I had a letter, too."
+
+"From the Luttrells themselves?"
+
+"From their lawyer."
+
+"And you held your tongue about it?"
+
+"There was nothing to say," said Elizabeth, with a smile.
+
+Percival shrugged his shoulders, and went back to the drawing-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ELIZABETH'S WOOING.
+
+
+Percival and his friend dined with the Herons that evening. Mr. Heron
+was an artist by profession; he was a fair, abstracted-looking man, with
+gold eye-glasses, which he was always sticking ineffectually upon the
+bridge of his nose and nervously feeling for when they tumbled down
+again. He had painted several good pictures in his time, and was in the
+habit of earning a fairly good income; but owing to some want of
+management, either on his part or his wife's, his income never seemed
+quite large enough for the needs of the household. The servants' wages
+were usually in arrear; the fittings of the house were broken and never
+repaired; there were wonderful gaps in the furniture and the china,
+which nobody ever appeared to think of filling up. Rupert remembered the
+ways of the house when he had boarded there, and was not surprised to
+find himself dining upon mutton half-burnt and half-raw, potatoes more
+like bullets than vegetables, and a partially cooked rice-pudding,
+served upon the remains of at least three dinner-services, accompanied
+by sour beer and very indifferent claret. Percival did not even pretend
+to eat; he sat back in his chair and declared, with an air of polite
+disgust, that he was not hungry. Rupert made up for his deficiencies,
+however; he swallowed what was set before him and conversed with his
+hostess, who was quite unconscious that anything was amiss. Mrs. Heron
+had a vague taste for metaphysics and political economy; she had
+beautiful theories of education, which she was always intending, at some
+future time, to put into practice for the benefit of her three little
+boys, Harry, Willy, and Jack. She spoke of these theories, with her blue
+eyes fixed on vacancy and her fork poised gracefully in the air, while
+Vivian laboured distastefully through his dinner, and Percival frowned
+in silence at the table-cloth.
+
+"I have always thought," Mrs. Heron was saying sweetly, "that children
+ought not to be too much controlled. Their development should be
+perfectly free. My children grow up like young plants, with plenty of
+sun and air; they play as they like; they work when they feel that they
+can work best; and, if at times they are a little noisy, at any rate
+their noise never develops into riot."
+
+Percival did not, perhaps, intend her to hear him, but, below his
+breath, he burst into a sardonic, little laugh and an aside to his
+sister Kitty.
+
+"Never into riot! I never heard them stop short of it!"
+
+Mrs. Heron looked at him uncertainly, and took pains to explain herself.
+
+"Up to a certain point, I was going to say, Percival, dear. At the
+proper age, I think, that discipline, entire and perfect discipline,
+ought to begin."
+
+"And what is the proper age?" said Percival, ironically. "For it seems
+to me that the boys are now quite old enough to endure a little
+discipline."
+
+"Oh, at present," said Mrs. Heron, with undisturbed composure, "they are
+in Elizabeth's hands. I leave them entirely to her. I trust Elizabeth
+perfectly."
+
+"Is that the reason why Elizabeth does not dine with us?" said Percival,
+looking at his step-mother with an expression of deep hostility. But
+Mrs. Heron's placidity was of a kind which would not be ruffled.
+
+"Elizabeth is so kind," she said. "She teaches them, and does everything
+for them; but, of course, they must go to school by-and-bye. Dear papa
+will not let me teach them myself. He tells me to forget that ever I was
+a governess; but, indeed"--with a faint, pensive smile--"my instincts
+are too strong for me sometimes, and I long to have my pupils back
+again. Do I not, Kitty, darling?"
+
+"I was not a pupil of yours very long, Isabel," said Kitty, who never
+brought herself to the point of calling Mrs. Heron by anything but her
+Christian name.
+
+"Not long," sighed Mrs. Heron. "Too short a time for me."
+
+At this point Mr. Heron, who noticed very little of what was going on
+around him, turned to his son with a question about the politics of the
+day. Percival, with his nose in the air, hardly deigned at first to
+answer; but upon Vivian's quietly propounding some strongly Conservative
+views, which always acted on the younger Heron as a red rag is supposed
+to act upon a bull, he waxed impatient and then argumentative, until at
+last he talked himself into a good humour, and made everybody else good
+humoured.
+
+When they returned to the untidy but pleasant-looking drawing-room, they
+found Elizabeth engaged in picking up the children's toys, straightening
+the sheets of music on the piano, and otherwise making herself generally
+useful; She had changed her dress, and put on a long, plain gown of
+white cashmere, which suited her admirably, although it was at least
+three years old, undeniably tight for her across the shoulders, and
+short at the wrists, having shrunk by repeated washings since the days
+when it first was made. She wore no trimmings and no ornaments, whereas
+Kitty, in her red frock, sported half-a-dozen trumpery bracelets, a
+silver necklace, and a little bunch of autumn flowers; and Mrs. Heron's
+pale-blue draperies were adorned with dozens of yards of cheap
+cream-coloured lace. Vivian looked at Elizabeth and wondered, almost for
+the first time, why she differed so greatly from the Herons. He had
+often seen her before; but, being now particularly interested by what he
+had heard about her, he observed her more than usual.
+
+Mrs. Heron sat down at the piano; she played well, and was rather fond
+of exhibiting her musical proficiency. Percival and Kitty were engaged
+in an animated, low-toned conversation. Rupert approached Elizabeth, who
+was arranging some sketches in a portfolio with the diligence of a
+housemaid. She was standing just within the studio, which was separated
+from the drawing-room by a velvet curtain now partially drawn aside.
+
+"Do you sketch? are these your drawings?" he asked her.
+
+"No, they are Uncle Alfred's. I cannot draw."
+
+"You are musical, I suppose," said Rupert, carelessly.
+
+He took it for granted that, if a girl did not draw, she must needs play
+the piano. But her next words undeceived him.
+
+"No, I can't play. I have no accomplishments."
+
+"What do you mean by accomplishments?" asked Vivian, smiling.
+
+"I mean that I know nothing about French and German, or music and
+drawing," said Elizabeth, calmly. "I never had any systematic education.
+I should make rather a good housemaid, I believe, but my friends won't
+allow me to take a housemaid's situation."
+
+"I should think not," ejaculated Vivian.
+
+"But it is all that I am fit for," she continued, quietly. "And I think
+it is rather a pity that I am not allowed to be happy in my own way."
+
+There was a little silence. Vivian felt himself scarcely equal to the
+occasion. Presently she said, with more quickness of speech than
+usual:--
+
+"You have been in Scotland lately, have you not?"
+
+"I was there a short time ago, but for two days only."
+
+"Ah, yes, you went to Netherglen?"
+
+"I did. The Luttrells are connections of yours, are they not, Miss
+Murray?"
+
+"Very distant ones," said Elizabeth.
+
+"You know that Brian Luttrell has gone abroad?"
+
+"I have heard so."
+
+There was very little to be got out of Miss Murray. Vivian was almost
+glad when Percival joined them, and he was able to slip back to Kitty,
+with whom he had no difficulty in carrying on a conversation.
+
+The studio was dimly lighted, and Percival, either by accident or
+design, allowed the curtain to fall entirely over the aperture between
+the two rooms. He looked round him. Mr. Heron was absent, and they had
+the room to themselves. Several unfinished canvasses were leaning
+against the walls; the portrait of an exceedingly cadaverous-looking old
+man was conspicuous upon the artist's easel; the lay figure was draped
+like a monk, and had a cowl drawn over its stiff, wooden head. Percival
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"My father's studio isn't an attractive-looking place," he said, with a
+growl of disgust in his voice.
+
+"Why did you come into it?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"I had a good reason," he answered, looking at her.
+
+If she understood the meaning that he wished to convey, it certainly did
+not embarrass or distress her in the least. She gave him a very
+friendly, but serious, kind of smile, and went on calmly with her work
+of sorting the papers and sketches that lay scattered around her.
+
+"Elizabeth," he said, "I am offended with you."
+
+"That happens so often," she replied, "that I am never greatly surprised
+nor greatly concerned at hearing it."
+
+"It is of little consequence to you, no doubt," said Percival, rather
+huffily; "but I am--for once--perfectly serious, Elizabeth. Why could
+you not come down to dinner to-night when Rupert and I were here?"
+
+"I very seldom come down to dinner. I was with the children."
+
+"The children are not your business."
+
+"Indeed they are. Mrs. Heron has given them into my charge, and I am
+glad of it. Not that I care for all children," said Elizabeth, with the
+cool impartiality that was wont to drive Percival to the very verge of
+distraction. "I dislike some children very much, indeed, but, you see, I
+happen--fortunately for myself--to be fond of Harry, Willie, and Jack."
+
+"Fortunately, for yourself, do you say? Fortunately for them! You must
+be fond of them, indeed. You can have their society all day and every
+day; and yet you could not spare a single hour to come and dine with us
+like a rational being. Vivian will think they make a nursery-maid of
+you, and I verily believe they do!"
+
+"What does it signify to us what Mr. Vivian thinks? I don't mind being
+taken for a nursery-maid at all, if I am only doing my proper work. But
+I would have come down, Percival, indeed, I would, if little Jack had
+not seemed so fretful and unwell. I am afraid something really is the
+matter with his back; he complains so much of pain in it, and cannot
+sleep at night. I could not leave him while he was crying and in pain,
+could I?"
+
+"What did you do with him?" asked Percival, after a moment's pause.
+
+"I walked up and down the room. He went to sleep in my arms."
+
+"Of course, you tired yourself out with that great, heavy boy!"
+
+"You don't know how light little Jack is; you cannot have taken him in
+your arms for a long time, Percival," said she, in a hurt tone; "and I
+am very strong. My hands ought to be of some use to me, if my brain is
+not."
+
+"Your brain is strong enough, and your will is strong enough for
+anything, but your hands----"
+
+"Are they to be useless?"
+
+"Yes, they are to be useless," he said, "and somebody else must work for
+you."
+
+"That arrangement would not suit me. I like to work for myself," she
+answered, smiling.
+
+They were standing on opposite sides of a small table on which the
+portfolio of drawings rested. Percival was holding up one side of the
+portfolio, and she was placing the sketches one by one upon each other.
+
+"Do you know what you look like?" said Percival, suddenly. There was a
+thrill of pleasurable excitement in his tone, a glow of ardour in his
+dark eyes. "You look like a tall, white lily to-night, with your white
+dress and your gleaming hair. The pure white of the petals and the
+golden heart of the lily have found their match."
+
+"I am recompensed for the trouble I took in changing my dress this
+evening," said Elizabeth, glancing down at it complacently. "I did not
+expect that it would bring me so poetic a compliment. Thank you,
+Percival."
+
+"'Consider the lilies; they toil not, neither do they spin,'" quoted
+Percival, recklessly. "Why should you toil and spin?--a more beautiful
+lily than any one of them. If Solomon in all his glory was not equal to
+those Judean lilies, then I may safely say that the Queen of Sheba would
+be beaten outright by our Queen Elizabeth, with her white dress and her
+golden locks!"
+
+"Mrs. Heron would say you were profane," said Elizabeth, tranquilly.
+"These comparisons of yours don't please me exactly, Percival; they
+always remind me of the flowery leaders in some of the evening papers,
+and make me remember that you are a journalist. They have a professional
+air."
+
+"A professional air!" repeated Percival, in disgust. He let the lid of
+the portfolio fall with a bang upon the table. Several of the sketches
+flew wildly over the floor, and Elizabeth turned to him with a
+reproachful look, but she had no time to protest, for in that moment he
+had seized her hands and drawn her aside with him to a sofa that stood
+on one side of the room.
+
+"You shall not answer me in that way," he said, half-irritated,
+half-amused, and wholly determined to have his way. "You shall sit down
+there and listen to me in a serious spirit, if you can. No, don't shake
+your head and look at me so mockingly. It is time that we understood
+each other, and I don't mean another night to pass over our heads
+without some decision being arrived at. Elizabeth, you must know that
+you have my happiness in your hands. I can't live without you. I can't
+bear to see you making yourself a slave to everybody, with no one to
+love you, no one to work for you and save you from anxiety and care. Let
+me work for you, now, dearest; be my wife, and I will see that you have
+your proper place, and that you are tended and cared for as a woman
+ought to be."
+
+Elizabeth had withdrawn her hands from his; she even turned a little
+pale. He fancied that the tears stood in her eyes.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I wish you had not said this to me, Percival."
+
+It was easy for him to slip down from his low seat to a footstool, and
+there, on one knee, to look full into her face, and let his handsome,
+dark eyes plead for him.
+
+"Why should I not have said it?" he breathed, softly. "Has it not been
+the dream of my life for months?--I might almost say for years? I loved
+you ever since you first came amongst us, Elizabeth, years ago."
+
+"Did you, indeed?" said Elizabeth. A light of humour showed itself
+through the tears that had come into her eyes. An amused, reluctant
+smile curved the corners of her mouth. "What, when I was an awkward,
+clumsy, ignorant schoolgirl, as I remember your calling me one day after
+I had done something exceptionally stupid? And when you played practical
+jokes upon me--hung my doll up by its hair, and made me believe that
+there was a ghost in the attics--did you care for me then? Oh, no,
+Percival, you forget! and probably you exaggerate the amount of your
+feeling as much as you do the length of time it has lasted."
+
+"It's no laughing matter, I assure you, Elizabeth," said Percival,
+laughing a little himself at these recollections, but looking vexed at
+the same time. "I am perfectly serious now, and very much in earnest;
+and I can't believe that my stupid jokes, when I was a mere boy, have
+had such an effect upon your mind as to prevent you from caring for me
+now."
+
+"No," said Elizabeth. "They make no difference; but--I'm very sorry,
+Percival--I really don't think that it would do."
+
+"What would not do? what do you mean?" said Percival, frowning.
+
+"This arrangement; this--this--proposition of yours. Nobody would like
+it."
+
+"Nobody could object. I have a perfect right to marry if I choose, and
+whom I choose. I am independent of my father."
+
+"You could not marry yet, Percival," she said, in rather a chiding tone.
+
+"I could--if you would not mind sharing my poverty with me. If you loved
+me, Elizabeth, you would not mind."
+
+"I am afraid I do not love you--in that way," said Elizabeth,
+meditatively. "No, it would never do. I never dreamt of such a thing."
+
+"Nobody expects you to have dreamt of it," rejoined Percival, with a
+short laugh. "The dreaming can be left to me. The question is rather
+whether you will think of it now--consider it a little, I mean. It seems
+to be a new idea to you--though I must say I wonder that you have not
+seen how much I loved you, Elizabeth! I am willing to wait until you
+have grown used to it. I cannot believe that you do not care for me! You
+would not be so cruel; you must love me a little--just a very little,
+Elizabeth."
+
+"Well, I do," said Elizabeth, smiling at his vehemence. "I do love
+you--more than a little--as I love you all. You have been so good to me
+that I could not help caring for you--in spite of the doll and the ghost
+in the attic." Her smile grew gravely mischievous as she finished the
+sentence.
+
+"Oh, that is not what I want," cried Percival, starting up from his
+lowly position at her feet. "That is not the kind of love that I am
+asking for at all."
+
+"I am afraid you will get no other," said Elizabeth, with a ring of
+sincerity in her voice that left no room for coquetry. "I am sorry, but
+I cannot help it, Percival."
+
+"Your love is not given to anyone else?" he demanded, fiercely.
+
+"You have no right to ask. But if it is a satisfaction to you, I can
+assure you that I have never cared for anyone in that way. I do not know
+what it means," said Elizabeth, looking directly before her. "I have
+never been able to understand."
+
+"Let me make you understand," murmured Percival, his momentary anger
+melting before the complete candour of her eyes. "Let me teach you to
+love, Elizabeth."
+
+She was silent--irresolute, as it appeared to him.
+
+"You would learn very easily," said he. "Try--let me try."
+
+"I don't think I could be taught," she answered, slowly. "And really I
+am not sure that I care to learn."
+
+"That is simply because you do not know your own heart," said Percival,
+dogmatically. "Trust me, and wait awhile. I will have no answer now,
+Elizabeth. I will ask you again."
+
+"And suppose my answer is the same?"
+
+"It won't be the same," said Percival, in a masterful sort of way. "You
+will understand by-and-bye."
+
+She did not see the fire in his eyes, nor the look of passionate
+yearning that crossed his face as he stood beside her, or she would
+scarcely have been surprised when he bent down suddenly and pressed his
+lips to her forehead. She started to her feet, colouring vividly and
+angrily. "How dare you, Percival!----" she began. But she could not
+finish the sentence. Kitty called her from the other room. Kitty's face
+appeared; and the curtain was drawn aside by an unseen hand with a great
+clatter of rings upon the pole.
+
+"Where have you been all this time?" said she. "Isabel wants you,
+Lizzie. Percival, Mr. Vivian talks of going."
+
+Elizabeth vanished through the curtain. Percival had not even time to
+breathe into her ear the "Forgive me" with which he meant to propitiate
+her. He was not very penitent for his offence. He thought that he was
+sure of Elizabeth's pardon, because he thought himself sure of
+Elizabeth's love. But, as a matter of fact, that stolen kiss did not at
+all advance his cause with Elizabeth Murray.
+
+He did not see her again that night--a fact which sent him back to his
+lodging in an ill-satisfied frame of mind. He and Vivian shared a
+sitting-room between them; and, on their return from Mr. Heron's, they
+disposed themselves for their usual smoke and chat. But neither of them
+seemed inclined for conversation. Rupert lay back in a long
+lounging-chair; Percival turned over the leaves of a new publication
+which had been sent to him for review, and uttered disparaging comments
+upon it from time to time.
+
+"I hope all critics are not so hypercritical as you are," said Vivian at
+last, when the volume had finally been tossed to the other end of the
+room with an exclamation of disgust.
+
+"Pah! why will people write such abominable stuff?" said Percival.
+"Reach me down that volume of Bacon's Essays behind you; I must have
+something to take the taste out of my mouth before I begin to write."
+
+Vivian handed him the book, and watched him with some interest as he
+read. The frown died away from his forehead, and the mouth gradually
+assumed a gentler expression before he had turned the first page. In
+five minutes he was so much absorbed that he did not hear the question
+which Vivian addressed to him.
+
+"What position," said Rupert, deliberately, "does Miss Murray hold in
+your father's house?"
+
+"Eh? What? What position?" Away went Percival's book to the floor; he
+raised himself in his chair, and began to light his pipe, which had gone
+out. "What do you mean?" he said.
+
+"Is she a ward of your father's? Is she a relation of yours?"
+
+"Yes, of course, she is," said Percival, rather resentfully. "She is a
+cousin. Let me see. Her father, Gordon Murray, was my mother's brother.
+She is my first cousin. And Cinderella in general to the household," he
+added, grimly.
+
+"Oh, Gordon Murray was her father? So I supposed. Then if poor Richard
+Luttrell had not died I suppose she would have been a sort of connection
+of my sister's. I remember Angela wondered whether Gordon Murray had
+left any family."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why? You know the degree of relationship and the terms of the will made
+by Mrs. Luttrell's father, don't you?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Gordon Murray--this Miss Murray's father--was next heir after the two
+Luttrells, if they died childless. Of course, Brian is still living; but
+if he died, Miss Murray would inherit, I understand."
+
+"There's not much chance," said Percival, lightly.
+
+"Not much," responded Vivian.
+
+They were interrupted by a knock at the door. The landlady, with many
+apologies, brought them a telegram which had been left at the house
+during their absence, and which she had forgotten to deliver. It was
+addressed to Vivian, who tore it open, read it twice, and then passed it
+on to Percival without a word.
+
+It was from Angela Vivian, and contained these words only--
+
+"Brian Luttrell is dead."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BROTHER DINO.
+
+
+When Brian Luttrell left England he had no very clear idea of the places
+that he meant to visit, or the things that he wished to do. He wished
+only to leave old associations behind him--to forget, and, if possible
+to be forgotten.
+
+He was conscious of a curious lack of interest in life; it seemed to him
+as though the very springs of his being were dried up at their source.
+As a matter of fact, he was thoroughly out of health, as well as out of
+spirits; he had been over-working himself in London, and was scarcely
+out of the doctor's hands before he went to Scotland; then the shock of
+his brother's death and the harshness of his mother toward him had
+contributed their share to the utter disorganisation of his faculties.
+In short, Brian was not himself at all; it might even be said that he
+was out of his right mind. He had attacks of headache, generally
+terminating in a kind of stupor rather than sleep, during which he could
+scarcely be held responsible for the things he said or did. At other
+times, a feverish restlessness came upon him; he could not sleep, and he
+could not eat; he would then go out and walk for miles and miles, until
+he was thoroughly exhausted. It was a wonder that his mind did not give
+way altogether. His sanity hung upon a thread.
+
+It was in this state that he found himself one day upon a Rhine boat,
+bound for Mainz. He had a very vague notion of how he had managed to get
+there; he had no notion at all of his reason for travelling in that
+direction. It dawned upon him by degrees that he had chosen the very
+same route, and made the same stoppages, as he had done when he was a
+mere boy, travelling with his father upon the Continent. Richard and his
+mother had not been there; Brian and Mr. Luttrell had spent a
+particularly happy time together, and the remembrance of it soothed his
+troubled brain, and caused his eye to rest with a sort of dreamy
+pleasure upon the scene around him.
+
+It was rather late for a Rhine expedition, and the boat was not at all
+full. Brian rather thought that the journey with his father had been
+taken at about the same time of the year--perhaps even a little later.
+He had a special memory of the wealth of Virginian creeper which covered
+the buildings near Coblentz. He looked out for it when the boat stopped
+at the landing-stage, and thought of the time when he had wandered
+hand-in-hand with his father in the pleasant Anlagen on the river banks,
+and gathered a scarlet trail of leaves from the castle walls. The leaves
+were in their full autumnal glory now; he must have been there at about
+the same season when he was a boy.
+
+After determining this fact to his satisfaction, Brian went back to the
+seat that he had found for himself at the end of the boat, and began
+once more to watch the gliding panorama of "castled crag" and vine-clad
+slope, which was hardly as familiar to him as it is to most of us. But,
+after all, Drachenfels and Ehrenbreitstein had no great interest for
+him. He had no great interest in anything. Perhaps the little excitement
+and bustle at the landing-places pleased him more than the scenery
+itself--the peasants shouting to each other from the banks, the baskets
+of grapes handed in one after another, the patient oxen waiting in the
+roads between the shafts; these were sights which made no great claim
+upon his attention and were curiously soothing to his jaded nerves. He
+watched them languidly, but was not sorry from time to time to close his
+eyes and shut out his surroundings altogether.
+
+The worst of it was, that when he had closed his eyes for a little time,
+the scene in the wood always came back to him with terrible
+distinctness, or else there rose up before his eyes a picture of that
+darkened room, with Richard's white face upon the pillow and his
+mother's dark form and outstretched hand. These were the memories that
+would not let him sleep at night or take his ease in the world by day.
+He could not forget the past.
+
+There was another passenger on the boat who passed and repassed Brian
+several times, and looked at him with curious attention. Brian's face
+was one which was always apt to excite interest. It had grown thin and
+pallid during the past fortnight; the eyes were set in deep hollows, and
+wore a painfully sad expression. He looked as if he had passed through
+some period of illness or sorrow of which the traces could never be
+wholly obliterated. There was a pathetic hopelessness in his face which
+was somewhat remarkable in so young a man.
+
+The passenger who regarded him with so much interest was also a young
+man, not more than Brian's own age, but apparently not an Englishman. He
+spoke English a little, though with a foreign accent, but his French was
+remarkably good and pure. He stopped short at last in front of Brian and
+eyed him attentively, evidently believing that the young man was asleep.
+But Brian was not asleep; he knew that the regular footstep of his
+travelling companion had ceased, and was hardly surprised, when he
+opened his eyes, to find the Frenchman--if such he were--standing before
+him.
+
+Brian looked at him attentively for a moment, and recognised the fact
+that the young foreigner wore an ecclesiastical habit, a black _soutane_
+or cassock, such as is worn in Roman Catholic seminaries, not
+necessarily denoting that the person who wears it has taken priest's
+vows upon him. Brian was not sufficiently well versed in the subject to
+know what grade was signified by the dress of the young ecclesiastic,
+but he conjectured (chiefly from its plainness and extreme shabbiness)
+that it was not a very high one. The young man's face pleased him. It
+was intellectual and refined in contour, rather of the ascetic type;
+with that faint redness about the heavy eyelids which suggests an
+insufficiency of sleep or a too great amount of study; large,
+penetrating, dark eyes, underneath a broad, white brow; a firm mouth and
+chin. There was something about his face which seemed vaguely familiar
+to Brian; and yet he could not in the least remember where he had seen
+it before, or what associations it called up in his mind.
+
+The young man courteously raised his broad, felt hat.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, "you are ill--suffering--can I do nothing for
+you?"
+
+"I am not ill, thank you. You are very good, but I want nothing," said
+Brian, with a feeling of annoyance which showed itself in the coldness
+of his manner. And yet he was attracted rather than repelled by the
+stranger's voice and manner. The voice was musical, the manner decidedly
+prepossessing. He was not sorry that the young ecclesiastic did not seem
+ready to accept the rebuff, but took a seat on the bench by his side,
+and made a remark upon the scenery through which they were passing.
+Brian responded slightly enough, but with less coldness; and in a few
+minutes--he did not know how it happened--he was talking to the stranger
+more freely than he had done to anyone since he left England. Their
+conversation was certainly confined to trivial topics; but there was a
+frankness and a delicacy of perception about the young foreigner which
+made him a very attractive companion. He gave Brian in a few words an
+outline of the chief events of his life, and seemed to expect no
+confidence from Brian in return. He had been brought up in a Roman
+Catholic seminary, and was destined to become a Benedictine monk. He was
+on his way to join an elder priest in Mainz; thence he expected to
+proceed to Italy, but was not sure of his destination.
+
+"I shall perhaps meet you again, then?" said Brian. "I am perhaps going
+to Italy myself."
+
+The young man smiled and shook his head. "You are scarcely likely to
+encounter me, monsieur," he answered. "I shall be busy amongst the poor
+and sick, or at work within the monastery. I shall remember you--but I
+do not think that we shall meet again."
+
+"By what name should I ask for you if I came across any of your order?"
+said Brian.
+
+"I am generally known as Dino Vasari, or Brother Dino, at your service,
+monsieur," replied the Italian, cheerfully. "If, in your goodness, you
+wished to inquire after me, you should ask at the monastery of San
+Stefano, where I spend a few weeks every year in retreat. The Prior,
+Father Cristoforo, is an old friend of mine, and he will always welcome
+you if you should pass that way. There is good sleeping accommodation
+for visitors."
+
+Brian took the trouble to make an entry in his note-book to this effect.
+It turned out to be a singularly useful one. As they were reaching Mainz
+something prompted Brian to ask a question. "Why did you speak to me
+this afternoon?" he said, the morbid suspiciousness of a man who is sick
+in mind as well as body returning full upon him. "You do not know me?"
+
+"No, monsieur, I do not know you." The ecclesiastic's pale brow flushed;
+he even looked embarrassed. "Monsieur," he said at last, "you had the
+appearance--you will pardon my saying so--of one who was either ill or
+bore about with him some unspoken trouble; it is the privilege of the
+Order to which I hope one day to belong to offer help when help is
+needed; and for a moment I hoped it might be my special privilege to
+give some help to you."
+
+"Why did you think so?" Brian asked, hastily. "You did not know my
+name?"
+
+The Italian cast down his eyes. "Yes, monsieur," he said in a low tone,
+"I did know your name."
+
+Brian started up. He did not stop to weigh probabilities; he forgot how
+little likely a young foreign seminarist would be to hear news of an
+accident in Scotland; he felt foolishly certain that his name--as that
+of the man who had killed his brother--must be known to all the world!
+It was the wildest possible delusion, such as could occur only to a man
+whose mind was off its balance--and even he could not retain it for more
+than a minute or two; but in that space of time he uttered a few wild
+words, which caused the young monk to raise his dark eyes to his face
+with a look of sorrowful compassion.
+
+"Does everyone know my wretched story, then? Do I carry a mark about
+with me--like Cain?" Brian cried aloud.
+
+"I know nothing of your story, monsieur," said Brother Dino, as he
+called himself, after a little pause, "When I said that I knew your
+name, I should more properly have said the name of your family. A
+gentleman of your name once visited the little town where I was brought
+up." He paused again and added gently, "I have peculiar reasons for
+remembering him. He was very good to a member of my family."
+
+Brian had recovered his self-possession before the end of the young
+priest's speech, and was heartily ashamed of his own weakness.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, sinking back into his seat with an air of
+weariness and discouragement that would have touched the heart of a
+tender-natured man, such as was Brother Dino of San Stefano. "I must be
+an utter fool to have spoken as I did. You knew my father, did you? That
+must be long ago."
+
+"Many years." Brother Dino looked at the Englishman with some expression
+in his eyes which Brian did not remark at the moment, but which recurred
+afterwards to his memory as being singular. There was sympathy in it,
+pity, perhaps, and, above all, an intense curiosity. "Many years ago my
+friends knew him; not I. The Signor Luttrell--he lives still in your
+country?"
+
+"No. He died eight years ago."
+
+"And----"
+
+A question evidently trembled on the Italian's lips, but he restrained
+himself. He could not ask it when he saw the pain and the dread in
+Brian's face. But Brian answered the question that he had meant to ask.
+
+"My brother is dead, also. My mother is living and well."
+
+Then he wheeled round and looked at the landing-stage, to which they
+were now very close. The stranger respected his emotion; he glanced once
+at the band of crape on Brian's arm, and then walked quietly away. When
+he returned it was only to say good-bye.
+
+"I should like to see you again," Brian said to him. "Perhaps I may find
+you out and visit you some day. You find your life peaceful and happy,
+no doubt?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"I envy you," said Brian.
+
+They parted. Brian went away to his hotel, leaving the young seminarist
+still standing on the deck--a black figure with his pale hands crossed
+upon his breast in the glow of the evening sunshine, awaiting the
+arrival of his superior as a soldier waits for his commanding officer.
+Brian looked back at him once and waved his hand: he had not been so
+much interested in anyone for what seemed to him almost an eternity of
+time.
+
+Sitting sadly and alone in the hotel that night, he fell to pondering
+over some of the words that the young Italian had spoken, and the
+questions that he had asked. He wondered greatly what was the service
+that his father had rendered to these Italians, and blamed himself a
+little for not asking more about the young man's history. He knew well
+enough that his parents had once spent two or three years
+abroad--chiefly in Italy; he himself had been born in an Italian town,
+and had spent almost the whole of the first year of his life in a little
+village at the foot of the Apennines. Was it not near a place called San
+Stefano, indeed, that he had been nursed by an Italian peasant woman?
+Brian determined, in a vague and dreamy way, that at some future time he
+would visit San Stefano, find out the history of his new acquaintance,
+and see the place where he had been born at the same time. That is if
+ever he felt inclined to do anything of the sort again. At present--and
+especially as the temporary interest inspired by the young Italian died
+away--he felt as if he cared too little for his future to resolve upon
+doing anything. There was a letter waiting for him, addressed in Mr.
+Colquhoun's handwriting. He had not even the heart to open it and see
+what the lawyer had to say. Something drew him next morning towards that
+wonderful old building of red stone, which looks as if it were hourly
+crumbling away, and yet has lasted so many hundred years, the cathedral
+of Mainz. The service was just over; the organ still murmured soft,
+harmonious cadences. The incense was wafted to his nostrils as he walked
+down the echoing nave. There had been a mass for the dead and a funeral
+that morning; part of the cathedral was draped in black cloth and
+ornamented by hundreds of wax candles, which flared in the sunlight and
+dropped wax on the uneven pavement below. There was an oppressiveness in
+the atmosphere to Brian; everything spoke to him of death and decay in
+that strange, old city, which might veritably be called a city of the
+dead. He turned aside into the cloisters, and listened mechanically
+while an old man discoursed to him in crabbed German concerning
+Fastrada's tomb and the carved face of the minstrel Frauenlob upon the
+cloister wall. Presently, however, the guide showed him a little door,
+and led him out into the pleasant grassy space round which the cloisters
+had been built. He was conscious of a great feeling of relief. The blue
+sky was above him again, and his feet were on the soft, green grass.
+There were tombstones amongst the grass, but they were overgrown with
+ivy and blossoming rose-trees. Brian sat down with a great sigh upon one
+of the old blocks of marble that strewed the ground, and told the guide
+to leave him there awhile. The man thought that he wanted to sketch the
+place, as many English artists did, and retired peacefully enough. Brian
+had no intention of sketching: he wanted only to feel himself alone, to
+watch the gay, little sparrows as they leaped from spray to spray of the
+monthly rose-trees, the waving of the long grass between the tombstones,
+and the glimpse of blue sky beyond the mouldering reddish walls on
+either hand.
+
+As he sat there, almost as though he were waiting for some expected
+visitor, the cloister doors opened once more, and two or three men in
+black gowns came out. They were all priests except one, and this one was
+the young Italian whose acquaintance Brian had made upon the steamer.
+They were talking rapidly together; one of them seemed to be questioning
+the young man, and he was replying with the serene yet earnest
+expression of countenance which had impressed Brian so favourably. At
+first they stood still; by-and-bye they crossed the quadrangle, and here
+Brother Dino fell somewhat behind the others. Following a sudden
+impulse, Brian suddenly rose as he came near, and addressed him.
+
+"Can you speak to me? I want to ask you about my father----"
+
+He spoke in English, but the young priest replied in Italian.
+
+"I cannot speak to you now. Wait till we meet at San Stefano."
+
+The words might be abrupt, but the smile which followed them was so
+sweet, so benign, that Brian was only struck with a sudden sense of the
+beauty of the expression upon that keen Italian face. "God be with you!"
+said Brother Dino, as he passed on. He stretched out his hand; it held
+one of the faintly-pink, sweet roses, which he had plucked near the
+cloister door. He almost thrust it into Brian's passive fingers. "God be
+with you," he said, in his native tongue once more. "Farewell, brother."
+In another moment he was gone. Brian had the green enclosure, the birds
+and the roses to himself once more.
+
+He looked down at the little overblown flower in his hand and carried it
+mechanically to his nostrils. It was very sweet.
+
+"Why does he think that I shall go to San Stefano?" he asked himself.
+"What is San Stefano to me? Why should I meet him there?"
+
+He sat down again, holding the flower loosely in one hand, and resting
+his head upon the other. The old langour and sickness of heart were
+coming back upon him; the momentary excitement had passed away. He would
+have given a great deal to be able to rouse himself from the depression
+which had taken such firm hold of his mind; but he failed to discover
+any means of doing so. He had a vague, morbid fancy that Brother Dino
+could help him to master his own trouble--he knew not how; but this hope
+had failed him. He did not even care to go to San Stefano.
+
+After a little time he remembered the letter in his pocket, addressed to
+him in Mr. Colquhoun's handwriting. He took it out and looked at it for
+a few minutes. Why should Mr. Colquhoun write to him unless he had
+something unpleasant to say? Perhaps he was only forwarding some
+letters. This quiet, grassy quadrangle was a good place in which to read
+letters, he thought. He would open the envelope and see what Colquhoun
+had to say.
+
+He opened it very slowly.
+
+Then he started, and his hand began to tremble. The only letter enclosed
+was one in his mother's handwriting. Upon a slip of blue paper were a
+few words from the lawyer. "Forwarded to Mr. Brian Luttrell at Mrs.
+Luttrell's request on the 25th of October, 1877, by James Colquhoun."
+
+Brian opened the letter. It had no formal opening, but it was carefully
+signed and dated, and ran as follows:--
+
+"They tell me that I have done you an injury by doubting your word, and
+that I am an unnatural mother in saying--even in my own chamber--what I
+thought. I have an excuse, which no one knows but myself and James
+Colquhoun. I think it is well under present circumstances to tell you
+what it is.
+
+"I am a strong believer in race. I think that the influence of blood is
+far more powerful than those of training or education, how strong soever
+they may be. Therefore, I was never astonished although I was grieved,
+to see that your love for Richard was not so great as that of brothers
+should have been----"
+
+"It is false!" said Brian, with a groan, crushing the letter in his
+hand, and letting it fall to his side. "No brother could have loved
+Richard more than I."
+
+Presently he took up the letter again and read.
+
+"Because I knew," it went on, "though many a woman in my position would
+not have guessed the truth, that you were not Richard's brother at all:
+that you were not my son."
+
+Again Brian paused, this time in utter bewilderment.
+
+"Is my mother mad" he said to himself. "I--not her son? Who am I, then?"
+
+"I repeat what I have said,"--so ran Mrs. Luttrell's letter--"with all
+the emphasis which I can lay upon the words. The matter may not be
+capable of proof, but the truth remains. You are not my son, not Edward
+Luttrell's son, not Richard Luttrell's brother--no relation of ours at
+all; not even of English or Scottish blood. Your parents were Italian
+peasant-folk; and my son, Brian Luttrell, lies buried in the churchyard
+of an Italian village at the foot of the Western Apennines. You are a
+native of San Stefano, and your mother was my nurse."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ON A MOUNTAIN-SIDE.
+
+
+"When my child Brian was born we were renting a villa near San Stefano,
+and were somewhat far removed from any English doctor. My doctor was,
+therefore, an Italian; and what was worse, he was an Italian monk. I
+hate foreigners, and I hate monks; so you may imagine for yourself the
+way in which I looked upon him. No doubt he had a hand in the plot that
+has ended so miserably for me and mine, so fortunately for you.
+
+"My Brian was nursed by our gardener's wife, a young Italian woman
+called Vincenza, whose child was about the age of mine. I saw Vincenza's
+child several times. Its eyes were brown (like yours); my baby's eyes
+were blue. It was when they were both about two months old that I was
+seized with a malarious fever, then very prevalent. They kept the
+children away from me for months. At last I insisted upon seeing them.
+The baby had been ill, they told me; I must be prepared for a great
+change in him. Even then my heart misgave me, I knew not why.
+
+"Vincenza brought a child and laid it in my lap, I looked at it, and
+then I looked at her. She was deadly white, and her eyes were red with
+tears. I did not know why. Of course I see now that she had enough of
+the mother's heart in her to be loath to give up her child. For it was
+her child that she had placed upon my knee. I knew it from the very
+first.
+
+"'Take this child away and give me my own,' I said. 'This is not mine.'
+
+"The woman threw up her hands and ran out of the room. I thought she had
+gone to fetch my baby, and I remained with her child--a puny, crying
+thing--upon my knees. But she did not return. Presently my husband came
+in, and I appealed to him. 'Tell Vincenza to take her wretched, little
+baby away,' I said. 'I want my own. This is her child; not mine.'
+
+"My husband looked at me, pityingly, as it seemed to my eyes. Suddenly
+the truth burst upon me. I sprang to my feet and threw the baby away
+from me upon the bed. 'My child is dead,' I cried. 'Tell me the truth;
+my child is dead.' And then I knew no more for days and weeks.
+
+"When I recovered, I found, to my utter horror, that Vincenza and her
+child had not left the house. My words had been taken for the ravings of
+a mad woman. Every one believed the story of this wicked Italian woman
+who declared that it was her child who had died, mine that had lived! I
+knew better. Could I be mistaken in the features of my own child? Had my
+Brian those great, dark, brown eyes? I saw how it was. The Italians had
+plotted to put their child in my Brian's place; they had forgotten that
+a mother's instinct would know her own amongst a thousand. I accused
+them openly of their wickedness; and, in spite of their tears and
+protestations, I saw from their guilty looks that it was true. My own
+Brian was dead, and I was left with Vincenza's child, and expected to
+love it as my own.
+
+"For nobody believed me. My husband never believed me. He maintained to
+the very last that you were his child and mine. I fought like a wild
+beast for my dead child's rights; but even I was mastered in the end.
+They threatened me--yes, James Colquhoun, in my husband's name,
+threatened me--with a madhouse, if I did not put away from me the
+suspicion that I had conceived. They assured me that Brian was not dead;
+that it was Vincenza's child that had died; that I was incapable of
+distinguishing one baby from another--and so on. They said that I should
+be separated from my own boy--my Richard, whom I tenderly loved--unless
+I put away from me this 'insane fancy,' and treated that Italian baby as
+my son. Oh, they were cruel to me--very cruel. But they got their way. I
+yielded because I could not bear to leave my husband and my boy. I let
+them place the child in my arms, and I learnt to call it Brian. I buried
+the secret in my own heart, but I was never once moved from my opinion.
+My own child was buried at San Stefano, and the boy that I took back
+with me to England was the gardener's son. You were that boy.
+
+"I was silent about your parentage, but I never loved you, and my
+husband knew that I did not. For that reason, I suppose, he made you his
+favourite. He petted you, caressed you more than was reasonable or
+right. Only once did any conversation on the subject pass between us. He
+had refused to punish you when you were a boy of ten, and had quarrelled
+with Richard. 'Mark my words,' I said to him, 'there will be more
+quarrelling, and with worse results, if you do not put a stop to it now.
+I should never trust a lad of Italian blood.' He looked at me, turning
+pale as he looked. 'Have you not forgotten that unhappy delusion, then?'
+he said. 'It is no delusion,' I answered him, composedly, 'to remind
+myself sometimes that this boy--Brian, as you call him--is the son of
+Giovanni Vasari and his wife.' 'Margaret,' he said, 'you are a mad
+woman!' He went out, shutting the door hastily behind him. But he never
+misunderstood me again. Do you know what were his last words to me upon
+his death-bed? 'Don't tell him,' he said, pointing to you with his weak,
+dying hand, 'If you ever loved me, Margaret, don't tell him.' And then
+he died, before I had promised not to tell. If I had promised then, I
+would have kept my word.
+
+"I knew what he meant. I resolved that I would never tell you. And but
+for Richard's death I would have held my tongue. But to see you in
+Richard's place, with Richard's money and Richard's lands, is more than
+I can bear. I will not tell this story to the world, but I refuse to
+keep you in ignorance any longer. If you like to possess Richard's
+wealth dishonestly, you are at liberty to do so. Any court of law would
+give it to you, and say that it was legally yours. There is, I imagine,
+no proof possible of the truth of my suspicions. Your mother and father
+are, I believe, both dead. I do not remember the name of the monk who
+acted as my doctor. There may be relations of your parents at San
+Stefano, but they are not likely to know the story of Vincenza's child.
+At any rate, you are not ignorant any longer of the reasons for which I
+believe it possible that you knew what you were doing when you were
+guilty of Richard Luttrell's death. There is not a drop of honest Scotch
+or English blood in your veins. You are an Italian, and I have always
+seen in your character the faults of the race to which by birth and
+parentage you belong. If I had not been weak enough to yield to the
+threats and the entreaties with which my husband and his tools assailed
+me, you would now be living, as your forefathers lived, a rude and hardy
+peasant on the North Italian plains; and I--I might have been a happy
+woman still."
+
+The letter bore the signature "Margaret Luttrell," and that was all.
+
+The custodian of the place wondered what had come to the English
+gentleman; he sat so still, with his face buried in his hands, and some
+open sheets of paper at his feet. The old man had a pretty, fair-haired
+daughter who could speak English a little. He called her and pointed out
+the stranger's bowed figure from one of the cloister windows.
+
+"He looks as if he had had some bad news," said the girl. "Do you think
+that he is ill, father? Shall I take him a glass of water, and ask him
+to walk into the house?"
+
+Brian was aroused from a maze of wretched, confused thought by the touch
+of Gretchen's light hand upon his arm. She had a glass of water in her
+hand.
+
+"Would the gentleman not drink?" she asked him, with a look of pity that
+startled him from his absorption. "The sun was hot that day, and the
+gentleman had chosen the hottest place to sit in; would he not rather
+choose the cool cloister, or her father's house, for one little hour or
+two?"
+
+Brian stammered out some words of thanks, and drank the water eagerly.
+He would not stay, however; he had bad news which compelled him to move
+on quickly--as quickly as possible. And then, with a certain whiteness
+about the lips, and a look of perplexed pain in his eyes, he picked up
+the papers as they lay strewn upon the grass, bowed to Gretchen with
+mechanical politeness, and made his way to the door by which he had come
+in. One thing he forgot; he never thought of it until long afterwards;
+the sweet, frail rose that Brother Dino had placed within his hand when
+he bade him God-speed. In less than an hour he was in the train; he
+hardly knew why or whither he was bound; he knew only that one of his
+restless fits had seized him and was driving him from the town in the
+way that it was wont to do.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell's letter was a great shock to him. He never dreamt at
+first of questioning the truth of her assertions. He thought it very
+likely that she had been perfectly able to judge, and that her husband
+had been mistaken in treating the matter as a delusion. At any time,
+this conviction would have been a sore trouble to him, for he had loved
+her and her husband and Richard very tenderly, but just now it seemed to
+him almost more than he could bear. He had divested himself of nearly
+the whole of what had been considered his inheritance, because he
+disliked so much the thought of profiting by Richard's death; was he
+also now to divest himself of the only name that he had known, of the
+country that he loved, of the nation that he had been proud to call his
+own? If his mother's story were true, he was, as she had said, the son
+of an Italian gardener called Vasari; his name then must be Vasari; his
+baptismal name he did not know. And Brian Luttrell did not exist; or
+rather, Brian Luttrell had been buried as a baby in the little
+churchyard of San Stefano. It was a bitter thought to him.
+
+But it could not be true. His whole being rose up in revolt against the
+suggestion that the father whom he had loved so well had not been his
+own father; that Richard had been of no kin to him. Surely his mother's
+mind must have been disordered when she refused to acknowledge him. It
+could not possibly be true that he was not her son. At any rate, one
+duty was plain to him. He must go to San Stefano and ascertain, as far
+as he could, the true history of the Vasari family. And in the meantime
+he could write to Mr. Colquhoun. He was obliged to go on to Geneva, as
+he knew that letters and remittances were to await him there. As soon as
+he had received the answer that Mr. Colquhoun would send to his letter
+of inquiry, he would proceed to Italy at once.
+
+Some delay in obtaining the expected remittances kept Brian for more
+than a week at Geneva. And there, in spite of the seclusion in which he
+chose to live, and his resolute avoidance of all society, it happened
+that before he had been in the place three days he met an old University
+acquaintance--a strong, cheery, good-natured fellow called Gunston,
+whose passion for climbing Swiss mountains seemed to be unappeasable. He
+tried hard to make Brian accompany him on his next expedition, but
+failed. Both strength and energy were wanting to him at this time.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun's answers to Brian's communications were short, and, to
+the young-man's mind, unsatisfactory. "At the time when Mrs. Luttrell
+first made the statement that she believed you to be Vincenza Vasari's
+son, her mind was in a very unsettled state. Medical evidence went to
+show that mothers did at times conceive a violent dislike to one or
+other of their children. This was probably a case in point. The Vasaris
+were honest, respectable people, and there was no reason to suppose that
+any fraud had been perpetrated. At the same time, it was impossible to
+convince Mrs. Luttrell that her own child had not died; and Mr.
+Colquhoun was of opinion that she would never acknowledge Brian as her
+son again, or consent to hold any personal intercourse with him."
+
+"It would be better if I were dead and out of all this uncertainty,"
+said Brian, bitterly, when he had read the letter. Yet, something in it
+gave him a sort of stimulus. He took several long excursions, late
+though the season was; and in a few days he again encountered Gunston,
+who was delighted to welcome him as a companion. Brian was a practised
+mountaineer; and though his health had lately been impaired, he seemed
+to regain it in the cold, clear air of the Swiss Alps. Gunston did not
+find him a genial companion; he was silent and even grim; but he was a
+daring climber, and exposed his life sometimes with a hardihood which
+approached temerity.
+
+But a day arrived on which Brian's climbing feats came to an end. They
+had made an easy ascent, and were descending the mountain on the
+southern side, when an accident took place. It was one which often
+occurs, and which can be easily pictured to oneself. They were crossing
+some loose snow when the whole mass began to move, slowly first, then
+rapidly, down the slope of the mountain-side.
+
+Brian sank almost immediately up to his waist in the snow. He noticed
+that the guide had turned his face to the descent and stretched out his
+arms, and he imitated this action as well as he was able, hoping in that
+manner to keep them free. But he was too deeply sunk in the snow to be
+able to turn round, and as he was in the rear of the others he could not
+see what became of his companions. He heard one shout from Gunston, and
+that was all--"Good God, Luttrell, we're lost!" And then the avalanche
+swept them onwards, first with a sharp, hissing sound, and then with a
+grinding roar as of thunder, and Brian gave himself up for lost, indeed.
+
+He was not sorry. Death was the easiest possible solution of all his
+difficulties. He had looked for it many times; but he was glad to think
+that on this day, at least, he had not sought it of his own free will.
+He thought of his mother--he could not call her otherwise in this last
+hour--he thought of the father and the brother who had been dear to him
+in this world, and would not, he believed, be less dear to him in the
+next; he thought of Angela, who would be a little sorry for him, and
+Hugo, whom he could no longer help out of his numerous difficulties. All
+these memories of his old home and friends flashed over his mind in less
+than a second of time. He even thought of the estate, and of the Miss
+Murray who would inherit it. And then he tried to say a little prayer,
+but could not fix his mind sufficiently to put any petition into words.
+
+And at this point he became aware that he was descending less rapidly.
+
+His head and arms were fortunately still free. By a side glance he saw
+that the snow at some distance before him had stopped sliding
+altogether. Then it ceased to move at a still higher point, until at the
+spot where he lay it also became motionless, although above him it was
+still rushing down as if to bury him in a living grave. He threw his
+hands up above his head, and made a furious effort to extricate himself
+before the snow should freeze around him. And in this effort he was more
+successful than he had even hoped to be. But the pressure of the snow
+upon him was so great that he thought at first that it would break his
+ribs. When the motion had ceased, however, this pressure became less
+powerful; by the help of his ice-axe he managed to free himself, and
+knew that he was as yet unhurt, if not yet safe.
+
+He looked round for his friend and for the guides. They had all been
+roped together, but the rope had broken between himself and his
+companions. He saw only one prostrate form, and, at some little
+distance, the hand of a man protruding from the white waste of snow.
+
+The thought of affording help to the other members of the party
+stimulated Brian to efforts which he would not, perhaps, have made on
+his own account. In a short time he was able to make his way to the man
+lying face downwards in the snow. He had already recognised him as one
+of the guides. It needed but a slight examination to convince him that
+this man was dead--not from suffocation or cold, but from the effects of
+a wound inflicted in the fall. The hand, sticking out of the snow
+belonged to the other guide; it was cold and stiff, and with all his
+efforts Brian could not succeed in extricating the body from the snow in
+which it was tightly wedged. Of the young Englishman, Gunston, and the
+other guide, there was absolutely nothing to be seen.
+
+Brian turned sick and faint when the conviction was forced upon him that
+he would see his friend no more. His limbs failed him; he could not go
+on. He was born to misfortune, he said to himself; born to bring trouble
+and sorrow upon his companions and friends. Without him, Gunston would
+not, perhaps, have attempted this ascent. And how could he carry home to
+Gunston's family the story of his death?
+
+After all, it was very unlikely that he would reach the bottom of the
+mountain in safety. He had no guide; he was utterly ignorant of the way.
+There were pitfalls without number in his path--crevasses, precipices,
+treacherous ice-bridges, and slippery, loose snow. He would struggle on
+until the end came, however; better to move, even towards death, than to
+lie down and perish miserably of cold.
+
+It is said sometimes that providence keeps a special watch over children
+and drunken men; that is to say, that those who are absolutely incapable
+of caring for themselves do sometimes, by wonderful good fortune, escape
+the dangers into which sager persons are apt to fall. So it seemed with
+Brian Luttrell. For hours he struggled onwards, sore pressed by cold,
+and fatigue, and pain; but at last, long after night had fallen, he
+staggered into a little hamlet on the southern side of the mountain,
+footsore and fainting, indeed, but otherwise unharmed.
+
+Nobody noticed his arrival very much. The villagers took him in, put him
+to bed, and gave him food and drink, but they did not seem to think that
+he was one of "the rich Englishmen" who sometimes visited their village,
+and they did not at all realise what he had done. To make the descent
+that Brian had done without a guide would have appeared to them little
+short of miraculous.
+
+Brian had no opportunity of explaining to them how he had come. He was
+carried insensible into the one small inn that the village contained and
+put to bed, where he woke up delirious and quite unable to give any
+account of himself. When his mind was again clear, he remembered that it
+was his duty to tell the story of the accident on the mountain, but as
+soon as he uttered a few words on the subject he was met by an animated
+and circumstantial account of the affair in all its details. Two
+Englishmen, and two guides, and a porter had been crossing the mountain
+when the avalanche took place; a guide and a porter had been killed, and
+their bodies had been recovered. One Englishman had been killed also,
+and the other----
+
+"Yes, the other," began Brian, hurriedly, but the innkeeper stolidly
+continued his story. The other had made his way back with the guide to
+the nearest town. He was there still, and had been making expeditions
+every day upon the mountain to find the dead body of his friend. But he
+had given up the search now, and was returning to England on the morrow.
+He had done all he could, poor gentleman, and it was more than a week
+since the accident took place.
+
+Brian suddenly put his head down on his pillow and lay still. Here was
+the chance for which his soul had yearned! If the innkeeper spoke the
+truth, he--Brian Luttrell--was already numbered amongst the dead. Why
+should he take the trouble to come back to life?
+
+"Were none of the Englishman's clothes or effects found?" he asked,
+presently.
+
+"Oh, yes, monsieur. His pocket-book--his hat. They were close to a
+dangerous crevasse. A guide was lowered down it for fifty, eighty, feet,
+but nothing of the unfortunate Englishman was to be seen. If he did not
+fall into the crevasse his body may be recovered in the spring--but
+hardly before. Yes, his pocket-book and his hat, monsieur." A sudden
+gleam came into the little innkeeper's eyes, and he spoke somewhat
+interrogatively--"Monsieur arrived here also without his hat?"
+
+For the first time the possibility occurred to the innkeeper's mind of
+his guest's identity with the missing Englishman. Brian answered with a
+certain reluctance; he did not like the part that he would have to play.
+
+"I lost my way in walking from V----," he said, mentioning a town at some
+distance from the mountain-pass by which he had really come; "and my hat
+was blown off by a gust of wind. The weather was not good. I lost my
+way."
+
+"True, monsieur. There was rain and there was wind: doubtless monsieur
+wandered from the right track," said the innkeeper, accepting the
+explanation in all good faith.
+
+When he left the room, Brian examined his belongings with care. Nothing
+in his possession was marked, owing to the fact that his clothes were
+mostly new ones, purchased with a view to mountaineering requirements.
+His pocket-book was lost. Mrs. Luttrell's letter and one or two other
+papers, however, remained with him, and he had sufficient money in his
+pockets to pay the innkeeper and preserve him from starvation for a
+time. He wondered that nobody had reported an unknown traveller to be
+lying ill in the village; but it was plain that his escape had been
+thought impossible. Even Gunston had given him up for lost. As he learnt
+afterwards, it was believed that he had not been able to sever the rope,
+and that he, with one of the guides, had fallen into a crevasse. The
+rope went straight down into the cleft, and he was believed to be at the
+end of it. There was not the faintest doubt in the mind of the survivors
+but that Brian Luttrell was dead. It remained for Brian himself to
+decide whether he should go back to the town, reclaim his luggage, and
+take up life again at the point where he seemed to have let it drop--or
+go forth into the world, penniless and homeless, without a name, without
+a hope for the future, and without a friend.
+
+Which should he do?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE HEIRESS OF STRATHLECKIE.
+
+
+"Elizabeth an heiress! Elizabeth, with a fortune of her own!" said Mrs.
+Heron. "It is perfectly incredible."
+
+"It is perfectly true," rejoined her step-son. "And it has been true for
+the last three days."
+
+"Then Elizabeth does not know it," replied Kitty.
+
+"As to whether she knows it or not," said Percival, sardonically, "I am
+quite unable to form any opinion. Elizabeth has a talent for keeping
+secrets."
+
+He was not sorry that the door opened at that moment, and that
+Elizabeth, entering with little Jack in her arms, must have heard his
+words. She flashed a quick look at him--it was one that savoured of
+reproach--and advanced into the middle of the room, where she stood
+silent, waiting to be accused.
+
+It was twelve o'clock on the morning of a bright, cold November
+day. Mrs. Heron was lying on the sofa in the dining-room--a
+shabbily-comfortable, old-fashioned room where most of the business of
+the house was transacted. Kitty sat on a low chair before the fire,
+warming her little, cold hands. She had a cat on her lap, and a novel on
+the floor beside her, and looked very young, very pretty, and very idle.
+Percival was fidgetting about the room with a glum and sour expression
+of countenance. He was evidently much out of sorts, both in body and
+mind, for his face was unusually sallow in tint, and there was a dark,
+upright line between his brows which his relations knew and--dreaded.
+The genial, sunshiny individual of a few evenings back had disappeared,
+and a decidedly bad-tempered young man now took his place.
+
+Mrs. Heron's pretty, pale face wore an unaccustomed flush; and as she
+looked at Elizabeth the tears came into her blue eyes, and she pressed
+them mildly with her handkerchief. Elizabeth waited in patience; she was
+not sure of the side from which the attack would be made, but she was
+sure that it was coming. Percival, with his hands thrust deep into his
+pockets, leaned against a sideboard, and looked at her with disfavour.
+She was paler than usual, and there were dark lines beneath her eyes.
+What made her look like that! Percival thought to himself. One might
+fancy that she had been lying awake all night, if the thing were not
+(under the circumstances) well-nigh impossible! But perhaps it was only
+her ill-fitting, unbecoming, old, serge gown that made her look so pale.
+Percival was in the humour to see all her faults and defects that
+morning.
+
+"Why do you carry that great boy about?" he said, almost harshly. "You
+know that he is too big to be carried. Do put him down."
+
+"Yes, put him down, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Heron, still pressing her
+handkerchief to her eye. "I am sure I have no desire to inflict any
+hardship upon you. If you devoted yourself to my children, I thought
+that it was from choice and because you had an affection for your
+uncle's family. But you seem to have had no affection--no respect--no
+confidence----"
+
+A gentle sob cut short her words.
+
+"What have I done?" said Elizabeth. Her face had turned a shade paler
+than before, but betrayed no sign of confusion. "Lie still, Jack; I do
+not mean to put you down just yet. Indeed, I think I had better carry
+you upstairs again." She left the room swiftly, pausing only at the door
+to add a few words: "I will be down again directly. I shall be glad if
+Percival will wait."
+
+There was a short silence, during which Mrs. Heron dried her eyes, and
+Percival stared uncomfortably at the toe of his left boot.
+
+"Surely Elizabeth has a right to her own secrets," said Kitty, from her
+station on the hearth. But nobody replied.
+
+Presently Elizabeth came down again, with a couple of letters in her
+hand. It seemed almost as if she had been upstairs to rub a little life
+and colour into her face, for her cheeks were carnation when she
+returned, and her eyes unusually bright.
+
+"Will you tell me what I have done that distresses you?" she said,
+addressing herself steadily to Mrs. Heron, though she saw Percival
+glance eagerly, hungrily, towards the letters in her hand.
+
+"Indeed, I have no right to be distressed," replied Mrs. Heron, still,
+however, in an exceedingly hurt tone. "Your own affairs are your own
+property, my dear Lizzie, as Kitty has just remarked; but, considering
+the care and--the--the affection-lavished upon you here----"
+
+She stopped short; Percival's dark eyes were darting their angry
+lightning upon her.
+
+"A care and affection," he said, "which condemned her to the nursery in
+order that she might indulge her extreme love for children, and save you
+the expense of a nursery-maid."
+
+"You have no right to make such a remark, Percival!" exclaimed his
+step-mother, feebly, but she quailed beneath the sneer instead of
+resenting it. Elizabeth turned sharply upon her cousin.
+
+"No," she said, "you have no right to make such a remark. As you know
+very well, I had no friends, no money, no home, when Uncle Alfred
+brought me here. I was a beggar--I should have starved, perhaps--but for
+him. I owe him everything--and I do not forget my debt."
+
+"Everything," said Percival, incisively, "except, I suppose, your
+confidence."
+
+She turned away and walked up to Mrs. Heron's sofa. Here her manner
+changed, it became soft and womanly; her voice took a gentler tone.
+"What is it, Aunt Isabel?" she said. "I am ready to give you all the
+confidence that you wish for. I will have no secrets from you."
+
+"Oh, then, Lizzie, is it true?" said Kitty, upsetting the cat in her
+haste, and flying across the room to her cousin's side, while Mrs.
+Heron, taken by surprise, did nothing but sob helplessly and hold
+Elizabeth's firm, white hand in a feeble grasp. "Is it really true? Have
+you inherited a great fortune? Are you going to be very rich?"
+
+Elizabeth made a little pause before she answered the question. "Brian
+Luttrell is dead," she said at last, rather slowly. "And I am very
+sorry."
+
+"And the Luttrells are your cousins? And you are the heiress after
+them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But when did you know this first?" said Kitty, anxiously looking up
+into her tall cousin's face.
+
+"Yes, when did you know it first?" repeated Mrs. Heron, with a weak and
+sighing attempt at solemnity.
+
+"I knew that I was the Luttrells' cousin all my life," said Elizabeth.
+There was a touch of perversity in her answer.
+
+"Yes--yes. But when did you know that you were the next heir--or
+heiress? You cannot have known that all your life," said Mrs. Heron.
+
+"I did not know that until a few days ago. I had a letter from a lawyer
+when Brian Luttrell went abroad. Mr. Brian Luttrell wished him to
+communicate with me and to tell me----"
+
+"Well?" said Mrs. Heron, curiously. "To tell you what?"
+
+"That it was probable that the property would come to me," Elizabeth
+answered, for the first time with some embarrassment, "as he did not
+intend to marry. And that he wished to settle a certain sum upon me--in
+case I might be in want of money now."
+
+"And that was a fortnight ago?" said Percival.
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, without looking at him, "nearly a fortnight ago."
+
+"This is very interesting," said Mrs. Heron, who was languidly
+brightening as she heard Elizabeth's story and recognised the fact that
+substantial advantages were likely to accrue to the household from
+Elizabeth's good fortune. "And of course you accepted the offer, Lizzie
+dear? But why did you not tell us at once?"
+
+"I waited until things should be settled. The matter might have fallen
+through. It did not seem worth while to mention it until it was
+settled," said Elizabeth.
+
+"How much did he offer you? Mr. Brian Luttrell must have been a very
+generous man."
+
+"I think he was--very generous," said Elizabeth, looking up warmly. "I
+considered the matter for some time, and I wished that I could accept
+his kindness, but----"
+
+"You don't mean to say that you refused it?"
+
+"I did not refuse it altogether," explained Elizabeth, her face glowing.
+"I told him my circumstances, and all that my uncle had done for me, and
+that if he chose to place a sum of money at my uncle's disposal--I
+thought that, perhaps, it would be only right, and that I ought not to
+place an obstacle in the way. But I could not take anything for myself."
+
+There was a little pause.
+
+"Oh, Lizzie, how good you are!" cried Kitty, softly.
+
+Percival took a step nearer; his face looked very dark.
+
+"And, pray, what did the lawyer say to your proposition?" he inquired.
+
+"He said he must communicate with Mr. Brian Luttrell, but he thought
+that there would be no objection to it on his part," said Elizabeth.
+"But he had not time to do so, you see. Brian Luttrell is dead. Here are
+all the letters about it, Aunt Isabel, if you want to see them. I was
+going to speak to Uncle Alfred this very day."
+
+"Well, Lizzie," said Mrs. Heron, taking the letters from her niece's
+hand, "I am glad that we are honoured by your confidence at last. I
+think it would have been better, however, if you had told us a little
+earlier of poor Mr. Luttrell's kindness, and then other people could
+have managed the business for you. Of course, it would have been
+repugnant to your feelings to accept money for yourself, and another
+person could have accepted it in your name with a much better grace."
+
+"But that is what I wanted to avoid," said Elizabeth, with a smile. "I
+would not have taken one penny for myself from Mr. Brian Luttrell, but
+if he would have repaid my uncle for part of what he has done for
+me----"
+
+Her sentence came to an abrupt end. Percival had turned aside and flung
+himself into an arm-chair near the fire. He was the picture of
+ill-humour; and something in his face took away from Elizabeth the
+desire to say more. Mrs. Heron read the letters complacently, and Kitty
+put her arm round her cousin's, waist and tried to draw her towards the
+hearth-rug for a gossip. But Elizabeth preserved her position near Mrs.
+Heron's sofa, although she looked down at the girl with a smile.
+
+"I know what Isabel meant--what we all meant," said Kitty, "when we were
+so disagreeable to you a little time ago, Lizzie. We all felt that we
+could not for one moment have kept a secret from you, and we resented
+your superior self-control. Fancy your knowing all this for the last
+fortnight, and never saying a word about it! Tell me in confidence,
+Lizzie, now didn't you want to whisper it to me, under solemn vows of
+secrecy?"
+
+"I'm afraid you would never have kept your vows," said Elizabeth. "I
+meant to tell you very soon, Kitty."
+
+"And so you are a rich woman, Elizabeth!" observed Mrs. Heron, putting
+down the letters and smoothing out her dress. "Dear me, how strangely
+things come round! Who would have dreamt, ten years ago, that you would
+ever be richer than all of us--richer than your poor uncle, who was then
+so kind to you! Some people are very fortunate!"
+
+"Some people deserve to be fortunate, Isabel," said Kitty, caressing
+Elizabeth's hand, in order to soften down the effect of Mrs. Heron's
+sub-acid speech. But Elizabeth did not seem to be annoyed by it. She was
+thinking of other things.
+
+"I am sure that if any one deserves it, Elizabeth does," said Mrs.
+Heron, recovering her usual placidity of demeanour. "She has always been
+good and kind to everyone around her. I tremble to think of what will
+become of dear Harry, and Will, and Jack."
+
+"What should become of them?" said Kitty, in a startled tone.
+
+"When Elizabeth leaves us"--Mrs. Heron murmured, applying her
+handkerchief to her eyes--"the poor children will know the difference."
+
+"But you won't leave us, will you, Elizabeth?" cried Kitty, clinging
+more closely to her cousin, and looking up to her with tears in her
+eyes. "You wouldn't go away from us, after living with us all these
+years, darling? Oh, I thought that you loved us as if you were really
+our own sister, and that nothing would ever take you away!"
+
+Still Elizabeth did not speak. Kitty's brown head rested on her
+shoulder, and she stroked it gently with one hand. Her lips were very
+grave, but her eyes, as she raised them for a moment to Percival's face,
+had a smile hidden in their hazel depths--a smile which he could not
+understand, and which, therefore, made him angry. He rose and stood on
+the hearth-rug with his hands behind him, as he delivered his little
+homily for Kitty's benefit.
+
+"I suppose you do not expect that Elizabeth will care to sacrifice
+herself all her life for us and the children," he said. "It would be as
+unreasonable of you to ask it as it would be foolish of her to do it. Of
+course, she will now begin to enjoy the world a little. She has had few
+enough enjoyments, hitherto--we need not grudge them to her now."
+
+But one would have thought that he himself, grudged them to her
+considerably.
+
+"What do you mean to do, Lizzie?" said Kitty, dolefully, "shall you take
+a house in town? or will you go and live in Scotland--all that long,
+long way from us? And shall you"--lifting her face rather
+wistfully--"shall you keep any horses and dogs?"
+
+Elizabeth laughed; she could not help it, although her laugh brought an
+additional pucker to the forehead of one of her hearers, who could not
+detect the tremulousness that lurked behind the clear, ringing tones.
+
+"It is well for you to laugh," he said, gloomily, "and, of course, you
+have the right, but----"
+
+"How interesting it will be," Mrs. Heron's, pensive voice was understood
+to murmur, when Percival's gruff speech had come to a sudden conclusion,
+"to notice the use dear Lizzie makes of her wealth! I wonder what her
+income will be, and whether the Luttrells' kept up a large
+establishment."
+
+"Oh," said Elizabeth, suddenly loosening herself from Kitty's arms and
+standing erect before them with a face that paled and eyes that deepened
+with emotion, "does it not occur to you through what trouble and misery
+this 'good fortune,' as you call it, has come to me? Does it not seem
+wrong to you to plan what pleasure I can get out of it, when you think
+of that poor mother sitting at home and mourning over her two sons--two
+young, strong men--dead in the very prime of life? And Miss Vivian, too,
+with her spoiled life and her shattered hopes--she once expected to be
+the mistress of the very house that they now call mine! I hate the
+thought of it. Please never speak to me as if it were a matter for
+congratulation. I should be heartily glad--heartily thankful--if Brian
+Luttrell were alive again!"
+
+She sat down, and put her elbows on the table and her hands over her
+face. The others looked at her in amaze. Percival turned to the fire and
+stared into it very hard. Mrs. Heron, who was rather afraid of what she
+called "Elizabeth's high-flown moods," murmured a suggestion to Kitty
+that she ought to go to the children, and glided languidly away,
+beckoning her step-daughter to follow her.
+
+Percival did not speak until Elizabeth raised her face, and then he was
+uncomfortably conscious that she had been crying--at least, that her
+long eyelashes were wet, and that in other circumstances he might have
+felt a desire to kiss the tears away. But this desire, if he had it,
+must now be carefully controlled. He did not look at her, therefore,
+when he spoke.
+
+"Your feeling is somewhat over-strained, Elizabeth. We are all sorry for
+the Luttrells' trouble; but it is absurd to say that we must not be glad
+of your good fortune."
+
+Elizabeth rose up with her eyes ablaze and her cheeks on fire.
+
+"You know that you are not glad!" she said, almost passionately. "You
+know that you would rather see me poor--see me the nursery-maid, the
+Cinderella, that you are so fond of calling me!"
+
+"Well," said Percival, with a short laugh, "for my own sake, perhaps, I
+would."
+
+"And so would I," said Elizabeth.
+
+"But you know, Lizzie, you will get over that feeling in time. You will
+find pleasure in your riches and your beauty; you will learn what
+enjoyment means--which you have had small chance of finding out,
+hitherto, in this comfortable household!" He laughed rather bitterly.
+"You are in the chrysalis state at present; you don't know what it is to
+be a butterfly. You will like that better--in time."
+
+"I will never be a butterfly--God helping me!" said Elizabeth. She spoke
+solemnly, with a noble light in her whole face which made it more than
+beautiful. Percival turned away his eyes from it; he did not dare to
+look. "If I have had wealth given me," said the girl, "I will use it for
+worthy ends. Others shall benefit by it as well as myself."
+
+"Don't squander it, Lizzie," said Percival, with a cynical smile,
+designed to cover the exceeding sadness and soreness of his heart. "Your
+philanthropist is not often the wisest person in the world."
+
+"No, but I will try to use it wisely," she said, with a touch of
+meekness in her voice which made him feel madly inclined to fall down
+and kiss the very hem of her garment--or rather the lowest flounce of
+her shabby, dark-blue, serge gown--"and my friends will see that I do
+not spend it foolishly. You do not think it would be foolish to use it
+for the good of others, do you, Percival? I suppose I shall be thought
+very eccentric if I do not take a large house in London, or go much into
+society; but, indeed, I should not be happy in spending money in those
+ways----"
+
+"Why, what on earth do you mean to do?" said Percival, sharply. "I see
+that you have some plan in your head; I should just like to know what it
+is."
+
+She was standing beside him on the hearth-rug, and she looked up at his
+face and down again before she answered.
+
+"Yes," she said, seriously, "I have a plan."
+
+"And you mean that I have no right to inquire what it is? You are
+perfectly correct; I have no right, and I beg your pardon for the
+liberty that I have taken. I think that I had better go."
+
+His manner was so restless, his voice so uneven and so angry, that
+Elizabeth lifted her eyes and studied his face a little before she
+replied.
+
+"Percival," she said at last, "why are you so angry with me?"
+
+"I'm not angry with you."
+
+"With whom or with what, then?"
+
+"With circumstances, I suppose. With life in general," he answered,
+bitterly, "when it sets up such barriers between you and me."
+
+"What barriers?"
+
+"My dear Elizabeth, you used to have faculties above those of the rest
+of your sex. Don't let your new position weaken them. I have surely not
+the least need to tell you what I mean."
+
+"You overrate my faculties," said Elizabeth. "You always did. I never do
+know what you mean unless you tell me. I am not good at guessing."
+
+"You need not guess then; I'll tell you. Don't you see that I am in a
+very unfortunate position? I said to you the other night that I--I loved
+you, that I would teach you to love me; and I could have done it,
+Elizabeth! I am sure that you would have loved me in time."
+
+"Well?" said Elizabeth, softly. Her lips were slightly tremulous, but
+they were smiling, too.
+
+"Well!" repeated her cousin. "That's all. There's an end to it. Do you
+think I should ever have breathed a word into your ear if I had known
+what I know now?"
+
+"The fact being," said Elizabeth, "that your pride is so much stronger
+than your love, that you would never tell a woman you loved her if she
+happened to have a few pounds more than you."
+
+"Exactly so," he answered, stubbornly.
+
+"Then--as a matter of argument only, Percival--I think you are wrong."
+
+"Wrong, am I? Do you think that a man likes to take gifts from his
+wife's hands? Do you think it is pleasant for me to hear you offer
+compensation to my father for the trifle that he has spent on you during
+the last few years, and not to be in a position to render such an
+offering unnecessary? I tell you it is the most galling thing in the
+world, and, if for one moment you thought me capable of speaking to you
+as I did the other night, now that I know you to be a wealthy woman, I
+could never look you in the face again. If I seem angry you must try to
+forgive me; you know me of old--I am always detestable when I am in
+pain--as I am now."
+
+He struck his foot angrily against the fender; his handsome face was
+drawn and lined with the pain of which he spoke.
+
+"Be patient, Percival," she said, with a smile which seemed to mock him
+by its very sweetness. "As you say to me, you may think differently in
+time."
+
+"And what if I do think differently? What good will it be?" he asked
+her. "I am not patient; I am not resigned to my fate, and I never shall
+be; does it make the loss of my hopes any easier to bear when you tell
+me that I shall think differently in time? You might as well try to make
+a man with a broken leg forget his pain by telling him that in a hundred
+years' time he will be dead and buried!"
+
+The tears stood in her eyes. She seemed startled by the intense energy
+with which he spoke; her next words scarcely rose above a whisper.
+"Percival," she said, "I don't like to see you suffer."
+
+"Then I will leave you," he said, sternly. "For, if I stay, I can't
+pretend that I do not feel the pain of losing you."
+
+He turned away, but before he had gone two steps a hand was placed upon
+his arm.
+
+"I can't let you go in this way," she said. "Oh, Percival, you have
+always been good to me till now. I can't begin a new life by giving you
+pain. Don't you understand what I want to say?"
+
+He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her face. The deep
+colour flushed his own, but hers was white as snow, and she was
+trembling like a leaf.
+
+"Do you love me, Elizabeth?" he said.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, simply, "but I will marry you, Percival,
+if you like."
+
+"That is not enough. Do you love me?"
+
+"Too well," she answered, "to let you go."
+
+And so he stayed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SAN STEFANO.
+
+
+When the vines were stripped of their clusters, and the ploughed fields
+stood bare and brown in the autumnal sun--when the fig trees lost their
+leaves, and their white branches took on that peculiarly gaunt
+appearance which characterises them as soon as the wintry winds begin to
+blow--a solitary traveller plodded wearily across the Lombardy plains,
+asking, as he went, for the road that would lead him to the village and
+monastery of San Stefano.
+
+He arrived at his destination on an evening late in November. It was
+between five and six o'clock when he came to the little, white village,
+nestling in a cleft of the hills, with the monastery on a slope behind
+it. There was a background of mountainous country--green, and grey, and
+purple--with solemn, white heights behind, stretching far into the
+crystal clearness of the sky. As the traveller reached the village he
+looked up to those white forms, and saw them transfigured in the evening
+light. The sky behind them changed to rose colour, to purple, violet,
+even to delicate pale green and golden, and, when the daylight had
+faded, an afterglow tinged the snowy summit with a roseate flush more
+tenderly ethereal than the tint of an oleander blossom, as transient as
+a gleam of April sunshine, or the changing light upon a summer sea. Then
+a dead whiteness succeeded; the day was gone, and, quick as lightning,
+the stars began to quiver in the blueness of the sky.
+
+The lights in the cottage windows gleamed not inhospitably, but the
+traveller passed them by. His errand was to the monastery of San
+Stefano, for there he fancied that he should find a friend. He had no
+reason to feel sure about it, but he was in a mental region where reason
+had little sway. He was governed by vague impulses and instincts which
+he did not care to controvert. He was faint, footsore, and weary, but he
+would not pause until he had reached the monastery gates.
+
+He rang the bell with a trembling hand. Its clangour startled him, and
+nearly made him fly from the place. If he had been less weak at that
+moment he would have turned away; as it was, he leaned against the high,
+white wall with an intolerable sense of discomfort and fatigue. When the
+porter came and looked out, it took him several minutes to discern,
+through the gathering darkness, the worn figure in waiting beside the
+gate.
+
+"I have come a long distance," stammered the traveller, in answer to the
+porter's exclamation. "I want rest and food. I was told by one of
+you--one who was called Brother Dino, I believe--that you gave
+hospitality to travellers----"
+
+"Come in, amico," said the porter, genially. "No explanations are needed
+when one comes to San Stefano. So you know our Brother Dino, do you? He
+is here again now, after two or three years in Paris. A fine scholar,
+they say, and a credit to the monastery. Come to the guest-room and I
+will tell him that you are here."
+
+To this monologue the stranger answered not a word. The porter had
+meanwhile allowed him to enter, and fastened the gate once more. He then
+led the way up a garden path to a second door, swinging his lantern and
+jingling his keys as he went. The traveller followed slowly; his
+battered felt hat was drawn low over his forehead, his garments, torn
+and travel-stained, gave the porter an impression that his pockets were
+not too well filled, and that he might even be glad of a little
+employment on the farm which the Brothers of San Stefano were so
+successful in cultivating. His tone was nonetheless cheery and polite as
+he ushered the stranger into a long panelled room, where a single
+oil-lamp threw a vague, uncertain light upon the tessellated floor and
+plain oak furniture.
+
+"You would like some polenta?" he said, as the wearied man sank into one
+of the wooden chairs with an air of complete exhaustion. "Or some of our
+good red wine? I will see about it directly. The signor can repose here
+until I return; I will fetch one of the Reverend Fathers by-and-bye, but
+they are all at Benediction at this moment."
+
+"I want to see Brother Dino," said the stranger, lifting his head. And
+then the porter changed his mind about the station of the visitor.
+
+That slightly imperious tone, the impatient glance of the dark eye, the
+unmistakably foreign accent, convinced him that he had to do with one of
+the tourists--English or American signori--who occasionally paid a visit
+to San Stefano. The porter himself was a lay-brother, and prided himself
+on his knowledge of the world. He answered courteously that Brother Dino
+should be informed, and then withdrew to provide the refreshment of
+which the stranger evidently stood in need.
+
+Brother Dino was not long in coming. He entered quickly, with a look of
+subdued expectation upon his face. A flash of joy and recognition leaped
+into his eyes as he beheld the wayworn figure in one of the antique
+carved oak chairs. His hands, which had been crossed and hidden in the
+wide sleeves of the habit that he wore, went out to the stranger with a
+gesture of welcome and delight.
+
+"Mr. Luttrell!" he exclaimed. "You are here already at San Stefano! We
+shall welcome you warmly, Mr. Luttrell!"
+
+The name seemed wonderfully familiar to his tongue. Brian, who had
+risen, held out his hands also, and the young monk caught them in his
+own; but Brian's gesture was an involuntary one, conveying more of
+apprehension than of greeting.
+
+"Not that name," he said, breathlessly. "Call me by any other that you
+please, but not that. Brian Luttrell is dead."
+
+Brother Dino shivered slightly, as if a cold breath of air had passed
+through the ill-lighted room, but he held Brian's hands with a still
+warmer pressure, and looked steadily into his haggard, hollow eyes.
+
+"What shall I call you, then, my brother?" he said, gently.
+
+"I have thought of a name," replied Brian, in curiously uncertain,
+faltering tones; "it will harm nobody to take it, because he is dead,
+too. Remember, my name is Stretton--John Stretton, an Englishman--and a
+beggar."
+
+Therewith he loosed his hands from Brother Dino's clasp, uttered a short
+laugh--it was a moan rather than a laugh, however--and fell like a stone
+into the Italian's arms. Dino supported him for a moment, then laid him
+flat upon the floor, and was about to summon help, when, turning, he
+came face to face with the Prior, Padre Cristoforo.
+
+Thirteen years had passed since Padre Cristoforo brought the friendless
+boy from Turin to the monastery amongst the pleasant hills. Those
+thirteen years had apparently transformed the smiling, graceful lad into
+a pale, grave-faced, young monk, whose every word and action seemed to
+be subordinated to the authority of the ecclesiastics with whom he
+lived. Time had thrown into strong relief the keenly intellectual
+contour of his head and face; it had hollowed his temples and tempered
+the ardour of those young, brave eyes; but there was more beauty of
+outline and sweetness of expression than had been visible even in the
+charming boyish face that had won all hearts when he came to San Stefano
+at ten years old.
+
+Thirteen years had changed Father Cristoforo but little. His tonsured
+head showed a fringe of greyer hairs, and his face was a little more
+blanched and wrinkled than it used to be; but the bland smile, the
+polished manner, the look of profound sagacity, were all the same. He
+gave one glance to Dino, one glance to the prostrate form upon the
+floor, and took in the situation without a moment's delay.
+
+"Fetch Father Paolo," he said, after inspecting Brian's face and lifting
+his nerveless hand; "and return with him yourself. We may want you."
+
+Father Paolo, the monk who took charge of the infirmary, soon arrived,
+and gave it as his opinion that the stranger was suffering from no
+ordinary fainting-fit, but from an affection of the brain. A bed was
+prepared for him in the infirmary, and a lay-brother appointed to attend
+upon him. Brian Luttrell could not have fallen ill in a place where he
+would receive more tender care.
+
+It was not until the sick man was laid in his bed that Father Cristoforo
+spoke again to Dino, who was standing a little behind him, holding a
+lamp. The rays of light fell full upon Brian's death-like face, and on
+the black and white crucifix that hung above his bed on the yellow wall.
+Dino's face was in deep shadow when the Prior turned and addressed him.
+
+"What was he saying when I came in? That his name was John--John----"
+
+"John Stretton, an Englishman," answered Dino, in an unmoved voice. "An
+Englishman and a beggar."
+
+Padre Christoforo did an unusual thing. He took the lamp from Brother
+Dino's hand and threw the light suddenly upon the young man's impassive
+countenance. Dino raised his great, serious eyes to the Prior's face,
+and then dropped them to the ground. Otherwise not a muscle of his face
+moved. He was the living image of submission.
+
+"Have you seen him before?" said Padre Cristoforo.
+
+"Twice, Reverend Father. Once on the boat between Cologne and Mainz; and
+once, for a moment only, in the quadrangle of the Cathedral at Mainz."
+
+"And then did he bear his present name?"
+
+For a moment Dino's mouth twitched uneasily. A faint colour crept into
+his cheeks. "Reverend Father," he said, hesitatingly, "I did not ask his
+name."
+
+The priest raised the lamp to the level of his head, and again looked
+penetratingly into his pupil's face. There was a touch of wonder, of
+pity, perhaps also of some displeasure, expressed in this fixed gaze. It
+lasted so long that Dino turned a little pale, although he did not
+flinch beneath it. Finally, the Prior lowered the lamp, gave it back to
+him, and walked away in silence, with his head lowered and his hands
+behind his back. Dino followed to light him down the dark corridors, and
+at the door of the Prior's cell, fell on his knees, as the custom was in
+the monastery, to receive the Prior's blessing. But, either from
+forgetfulness or some other reason which passed unexplained, Padre
+Cristoforo entered and closed the door behind him, without noticing the
+young man's kneeling figure. It was the first time such an omission had
+occurred since Dino came to San Stefano. Was it merely an omission and
+not a punishment? Dino had, for the first time in his life, evaded a
+plain answer to a question, and concealed from Padre Cristoforo
+something which Padre Cristoforo would certainly have thought that he
+ought to know. Had Padre Cristoforo divined the truth?
+
+According to the notions current amongst Italians, and particularly
+amongst many members of their church, Dino felt himself justified in
+equivocating in a case where absolute truth would not have served his
+purpose. His conscience did not reproach him for want of truthfulness,
+but it did for want of confidence in Padre Cristoforo. For he loved
+Padre Cristoforo; and Padre Cristoforo loved him.
+
+Brian Luttrell's illness was a long and severe one. He lay insensible
+for some time, and awoke to wild delirium, which lasted for many days.
+The Brothers of San Stefano nursed him with the greatest care, and it
+was observable that the Prior himself spent a good deal of time in the
+patient's room, and showed unusual interest in his progress towards
+recovery. The Prior understood English; but if he had hoped to gather
+any information concerning Brian's history from the ravings of his
+delirium he was mistaken. Brian's mind ran upon the incidents of his
+childhood, upon the tour that he had made with his father when he was a
+boy, upon his school-days; not upon the sad and tragic events with which
+he had been connected. He scarcely ever mentioned the names of his
+mother or brother. Like Falstaff, when he lay a-dying, be "babbled of
+green fields," and nothing more.
+
+At one time he grew better: then he had a relapse, and was very near
+death indeed; but at last the power of youth re-asserted itself, and he
+came slowly back to life once more. But it was as a man who had been in
+another world; who had faced the bitterness of death and the darkness of
+the grave.
+
+He was as much startled when he looked at himself for the first time in
+a looking-glass as a girl who has lost her beauty after a virulent
+attack of small-pox. Not that he had ever had much beauty to boast of;
+but the look of youth and hope which had once brightened his eyes was
+gone; his cheeks were sunken, his temples hollow, his features drawn and
+pinched with bodily pain and weakness. And--greatest change perhaps of
+all--his hair had turned from brown to grey; an alteration so striking
+and visible that, as he put down the little mirror which had been
+brought to him, he murmured to himself, with a bitter smile--"My own
+mother would not know me now." And then he turned his face away from the
+light, and lay silent and motionless for so long a space of time that
+the lay-brother who waited on him thought that he was sleeping.
+
+When he rose from his bed and was able to sit in the sunny garden or the
+cloisters, spring had come in all its tender glow of beauty, and sent a
+thrill of fresh life through the sick man's veins.
+
+Nature had always been dear to Brian. He loved the sights and sounds of
+country life. The hills, the waving trees, tranquil skies and running
+water calmed and refreshed his jaded brain and harrassed nerves. The
+broad fields, crimsoning with anemones, purpling with hyacinth and
+auricula; the fresh green of the fig trees, the lovely tendrils of the
+newly shooting vines even the sight of the oxen with their patient eyes,
+and the homely, feathered creatures of the farmyard, clucking and
+strutting at the sandalled feet of the black-robed, silent, lay-brothers
+who brought them food--all these things acted like an anodyne upon
+Brian's stricken heart. There was a life beside that of feeling; a life
+of passive, peaceful repose; the life of "stocks and stones," and happy,
+unresponsive things, amidst which he could learn to bear his burden
+patiently.
+
+He saw little of Dino during his illness; but, as soon as he was able to
+go into the garden, Dino was permitted to accompany him. It was plain
+from his manner that no unwillingness on his own part kept him away. The
+English stranger had evidently a great attraction for him; he waited
+upon his movements and followed him, silently and affectionately, like a
+dog whose whole heart has been given to its master. Brian felt the charm
+of this devotion, but was too weak to speculate concerning its cause. He
+was conscious of the same kind of attraction towards Dino; he knew not
+why, but he found it pleasant to have Dino at his side, to lean on his
+arm as they went down the garden path together, to listen to the young
+Italian's musical accents as he read aloud at the evening hour. But what
+was the secret of that indefinable mutual attraction, that almost
+magnetic power, which one seemed to possess over the other, Brian
+Luttrell could not tell. Perhaps Dino knew.
+
+This friendship did not pass unobserved. It was quietly, gently,
+fostered by the Prior, whose keen eyes were everywhere, and seemed to
+see everything at once. He it was who dispensed Dino from his usual
+duties that he might attend upon the English guest, who smiled benignly
+when he met them together in the cloister, who dropped a word or two
+expressive of his pleasure that Dino should have an opportunity of
+practising his knowledge of the English tongue. Dino could speak English
+with tolerable fluency, although with a strong foreign accent.
+
+But the quiet state of affairs did not last very long. As Brian's
+strength returned he grew restless and uneasy; and at length one day he
+sent a formal request to the Prior that he might speak to him alone.
+Padre Cristoforo replied by coming at once to the guest-chamber, which
+Brian occupied in the daytime, and by asking in his usual mild and
+kindly way what he could do for him.
+
+The guest-room was a bare enough place, but the window commanded a fine
+view of the wide plain on which the monastery looked down. The blinds
+were open, for the morning was deliciously cool, and the shadows of the
+leaves that clustered round the lattice played in the glow of sunshine
+on the floor. Brian was standing as the Prior entered the room; his
+wasted figure, worn face, and grey hairs made him a striking sight in
+that abode of peace and solitary quietness. It was as though some
+unquiet visitant from another world had strayed into an Italian Arcadia.
+But, as a matter of fact, Brian was probably less worldly in thought and
+aspiration at that moment than the serene-browed priest who stood before
+him and looked him in the face with such benignant friendly, interest.
+
+"You wished to see me, my son?" he began, gently.
+
+"I am ashamed to trouble you," said Brian. "But I felt that I ought to
+speak to you as soon as possible. I am growing strong enough to continue
+my journey--and I must not trespass on your hospitality any longer."
+
+"Your strength is not very great as yet," said the Prior, courteously.
+"Pray take a seat, Mr. Stretton. We are only too pleased to keep you
+with us as long as you will do us the honour to remain, and I think it
+is decidedly against your own interests to travel at present."
+
+Brian stammered out an acknowledgment of the Prior's kindness. He was
+evidently embarrassed, even painfully so; and Padre Cristoforo found
+himself watching the young man with some surprise and curiosity. What
+was it that troubled this young Englishman?
+
+Brian at last uttered the words that he had wished to say.
+
+"If I remained here," he said, colouring vividly with a sensitiveness
+springing from the reduced physical condition to which he had been
+brought by his long illness; "if I remained here I should ask you
+whether I could do any work for you--whether I could teach any of your
+pupils English or music. I am a poor man; I have no prospects. I would
+as soon live in Italy as in England--at any rate for a time."
+
+The Prior looked at him steadily; his deeply-veined hand grasped the arm
+of his wooden chair, a slight flush rose to his forehead. It was in a
+perfectly calm and unconstrained voice, however, that he made answer.
+
+"It is quite possible that we might find work of the kind you mention,
+signor--if you require it."
+
+There was a subdued accent of inquiry in the last four words. Brian
+laughed a little, and put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew out
+four gold pieces and a few little Swiss and Italian coins.
+
+"You see these, Father?" he said, holding them out in the palm of his
+hand. "They constitute my fortune, and they are due to the institution
+that has sheltered me so kindly and nursed me back to life and health. I
+have vowed these coins to your alms-box; when they are given, I shall
+make a fresh start in the world--as the architect of my own fortunes."
+
+"You will then be penniless!" said the priest, in rather a curious tone.
+
+"Entirely so."
+
+There was a short silence. Brian's fingers played idly with the coins,
+but he was not thinking about them; his dreamy eyes revealed that his
+thoughts were very far away. Padre Cristoforo was biting his forefinger
+and knitting his brows--two signs of unusual perturbation of mind with
+him. Presently, however, his brow cleared; he smoothed his gown over his
+knees two or three times, coughed once or twice, and then addressed
+himself to Brian with all his accustomed urbanity.
+
+"Our Order is a rich one," he said, with a smile, "and one that can well
+afford to entertain strangers. I will not tell you to make no gifts, for
+we know that it is very blessed to give--more blessed than to receive. I
+think it quite possible that we can give you such work as you desire.
+But before I do so, I think I am justified in asking you with what
+object you take it?"
+
+"With what object? A very simple one--to earn my daily bread."
+
+"And why," said the priest leaning forward and speaking in a lower
+voice--"why should your father's son need to earn his daily bread in a
+little Italian village?"
+
+Again Brian's face changed colour.
+
+"My father's son?" he repeated, vaguely. The coins fell to the ground;
+he sat up and looked at the Prior suspiciously. "What do you know about
+my father?" he said. "What do you know about me?"
+
+The Prior pushed back his chair. A little smile played upon his shrewd,
+yet kindly face. The Englishman was easier to manage than he had
+expected to find him, and Father Cristoforo was unquestionably relieved
+in his mind.
+
+"I do not know much about you," he said, "but I have reason to believe
+that your name is not Stretton--that you were recently travelling under
+the name of Brian Luttrell, and that you have a special interest in the
+village of San Stefano. Is that not true, my friend?"
+
+"Yes," said Brian slowly. "It is true."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE PRIOR'S OPINION.
+
+
+The Prior's face wore an expression of mild triumph. He was evidently
+prepared to be questioned, and was somewhat surprised when Brian turned
+to him gravely and addressed him in cold and serious tones.
+
+"Reverend Father," he said, "I am ignorant of the way in which you have
+possessed yourself of my secret, but, before a word more is spoken, let
+me tell you at once that it is a secret which must be kept strictly and
+sacredly between ourselves, unless great trouble is to ensue. It is
+absolutely necessary now that Brian Luttrell should be--dead."
+
+"What has Brian Luttrell done," asked the Prior, "that he should be
+ashamed of his own name?"
+
+"Ashamed!" said Brian, haughtily; "I never for one moment said that I
+was ashamed of it; but----"
+
+He turned in his chair and looked out of the window. A new thought
+occurred to him. Probably Padre Cristoforo knew the history of every one
+who had lived in San Stefano during the last few years. Perhaps he might
+assist Brian in his search for the truth. At any rate, as Padre
+Cristoforo already knew his name, it would do nobody any harm if he
+confided in him a little further, and told him something of the story
+which Mrs. Luttrell had told to him.
+
+Meanwhile, Padre Cristoforo watched him keenly as a cat watches a mouse,
+though without the malice of a cat. The Prior wished Brian no harm. But,
+for the good of his Order, he wished very much that he could lay hands,
+either through Brian or through Dino, upon that fine estate of which he
+had dreamt for the last thirteen years.
+
+"Father Cristoforo," Brian's haggard, dark eyes looked anxiously into
+the priest's subtilely twinkling orbs, "will you tell me how you learnt
+my true name?"
+
+He could not bear to cast a doubt upon Dino's good faith, and the Prior
+divined his reason for the question.
+
+"Rest assured, my dear sir, that I learnt it accidentally," he said,
+with a soothing smile. "I happened to be entering the door when our
+young friend Dino recognised you. I heard you tell him to call you by
+the name of Stretton; I also heard you say that Brian Luttrell was
+dead."
+
+"Ah!" sighed Brian, scarcely above his breath. "I thought that Dino
+could not have betrayed me."
+
+He did not mean the Prior to hear his words; but they were heard and
+understood. "Signor," said the Padre, with an inflection of hurt feeling
+in his voice, "Mr. Stretton, or Mr. Luttrell, however you choose to term
+yourself, Dino is a man of honour, and will never betray a trust reposed
+in him. I could answer for Dino with my very life."
+
+"I know--I was sure of it!" cried Brian.
+
+"But, signor, do you think it is right or wise to imperil the future and
+the reputation of a young man like Dino--without friends, without home,
+without a name, entirely dependent upon us and our provision for him--by
+making him the depository of secrets which he keeps against his
+conscience and against the rule of the Order in which he lives? Brother
+Dino has told me nothing; he even evaded a question which he thought
+that you would not wish him to answer; but, he has acted wrongly, and
+will suffer if he is led into further concealment. Need I say more?"
+
+"He shall not suffer through me," said Brian, impetuously. "I ought to
+have known better. But I was not myself; I don't remember what I said. I
+was surprised and relieved when I came to myself and found you all
+calling me Mr. Stretton. I never thought of laying any burden upon
+Dino."
+
+"You will do well, then," said the Prior, approvingly, "if you do not
+speak of the matter to him at all. He is bound to mention it if
+questioned, and I presume you do not want to make it known."
+
+"No, I do not. But I thought that he was bound only to mention matters
+that concerned himself; not those of other people," said Brian, with
+more hardihood than the priest had expected of him.
+
+Padre Cristoforo smiled, and made a little motion with his hand, as much
+as to say that there were many things which an Englishman and a heretic
+could not be expected to know. "Dino is in a state of pupilage," he
+said, slightly, finding that Brian seemed to expect an answer; "the
+rules which bind him are very strict. But--if you will allow me to
+advert once more to your proposed change of name and residence--I
+suppose that it is not indiscreet to remark that your friends in
+England--or Scotland--will doubtless be anxious about your place of
+abode at present?"
+
+"I do not think so," said Brian, in a low tone. "I believe that they
+think me dead."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Perhaps you did not hear in your quiet monastery, Father, of a party of
+travellers who perished in an avalanche last November? Two guides, a
+porter, and an Englishman, whose body was never recovered. I was that
+Englishman."
+
+"I heard of the accident," said Padre Cristoforo, briefly, nodding his
+head. "So you escaped, signor? You must have had strong limbs and stout
+sinews--or else you must have been attended by some special providential
+care--to escape, when those three skilled mountaineers were lost on the
+mountain side."
+
+"On ne meurt pas quand la mort est la delivrance," quoted Brian, with a
+bitter laugh. "You may be quite sure that if I had been at the height of
+felicity and good fortune, it would have needed but a false step, or a
+slight chill, or a stray shot--a stray shot! oh, my God! If only some
+stray shot had come to me--not to my brother--my brother----"
+
+They were the first tears that he had shed since the beginning of his
+illness. The sudden memory of his brother's fate proved too much for him
+in his present state of bodily weakness. He bowed his head on his hands
+and wept.
+
+A curiously soft expression stole into the Prior's face. He looked at
+Brian once or twice and seemed as if he wished to say some pitying word,
+but, in point of fact, no word of consolation occurred to him. He was
+very sorry for Brian, whose story was perfectly familiar to him; but he
+knew very well that Brian's grief was not one to which words could bring
+comfort. He waited silently, therefore, until the mood had passed, and
+the young man lifted up his heavy eyes and quivering lips with a faint
+attempt at a smile, which was sadder than those passionate sobs had
+been.
+
+"I must ask pardon," he said, somewhat confusedly. "I did not know that
+I was so weak. I will go to my room."
+
+"Let me delay you for one moment," said the Prior, confronting him with
+kindly authority. "It has needed little penetration, signor, to discover
+that you have lately passed through some great sorrow; I am now more
+sure of it than ever. I would not intrude upon your confidence, but I
+ask you to remember that I wish to be your friend--that there are
+reasons why I should take a special interest in you and your family, and
+that, humble as I am, I may be of use to you and yours."
+
+Brian stopped short and looked at him. "Me and mine!" he repeated to
+himself. "Me and mine! What do you know of us?"
+
+"I will be frank with you," said the priest. "Thirteen years ago a
+document of a rather remarkable nature was placed in my hands affecting
+the Luttrell family. In this paper the writer declared that she, as the
+nurse of Mrs. Luttrell's children, had substituted her own child for a
+boy called Brian Luttrell, and had carried off the true Brian to her
+mother, a woman named Assunta Naldi. The nurse, Vincenza, died and left
+this paper in the hands of her mother, who, after much hesitation,
+confided the secret to me."
+
+Brian took a step nearer to the Prior. "What right have you had to keep
+this matter secret so long?" he demanded.
+
+"Say, rather, what right had I to disturb an honourable family with an
+assertion that is incapable of proof?"
+
+"Then why did you tell me now?"
+
+"Because you know it already."
+
+Brian seated himself and leaned back in his chair, with his eyes still
+fixed upon the Prior's face.
+
+"Why do you think that I know it?" he said.
+
+"Because," said Padre Cristoforo, raising his long forefinger, and
+emphasising every fresh point with a convincing jerk, "because you have
+come to San Stefano. You would never have come here unless you wanted to
+find out the truth. Because you have changed your name. You would have
+had no reason to abandon the name of Luttrell unless you were not sure
+of your right to bear it. Because you spoke of Vincenza in your
+delirium. Do I need more proofs?"
+
+There was another proof which he did not mention. He had found Mrs.
+Luttrell's letter to Brian amongst the sick man's clothes, and had
+carefully perused it before locking it up with the rest of the
+stranger's possessions. It was characteristic of the man that, during
+the last few years, he had set himself steadily to work to master the
+English language by the aid of every English book or English-speaking
+traveller that came in his way. He had succeeded wonderfully well, and
+no one but himself knew for what purpose that arduous task had been
+undertaken. He found his accomplishment useful; he had thought it
+particularly useful when he read Mrs. Luttrell's letter. But naturally
+he did not say so to Brian.
+
+"You are right," said Brian, in a low voice. "But you say it is
+incapable of proof. She--my mother--I mean Mrs. Luttrell--says so, too."
+
+"If it were capable of proof," said the Prior, softly, "should you
+contest the matter?"
+
+"Yes," Brian answered, with an angry flash of his eyes, "if I had been
+in England, and any such claimant appeared, I would have fought the
+ground to the last inch! Not for the sake of the estates--I have given
+those up easily enough--but for my father's sake. I would not lightly
+give up my claim to call him father; he never doubted once that I was
+his son."
+
+"He never doubted?"
+
+"I am sure he never did."
+
+"But Mrs. Luttrell----"
+
+"God help me, yes! But she thinks also that I meant to take my brother's
+life."
+
+It needed but a few words of inquiry to lead Brian to tell the story of
+his brother's death. The Prior knew it well enough; he had made it his
+business to ascertain the history of the Luttrell family during the past
+few years; but he listened with the gentle and sympathetic interest
+which had often given him so strong a hold over men's hearts and lives.
+He was a master in the art of influencing younger men; he had the subtle
+instinct which told him exactly what to say and how far to go, when to
+speak and when to be silent; and Brian, with no motive for concealment,
+now that his name was once known, was like a child in the Prior's hands.
+
+In return for his confidence, Padre Cristoforo told him the substance of
+his interview with old Assunta, and of the confession written by
+Vincenza. But when Brian asked to see this paper the Prior shook his
+head.
+
+"I have not got it here," he said. "It was certainly preserved, by the
+desire of some in authority, but it was not thought to afford sufficient
+testimony."
+
+"What was wanting?"
+
+"I cannot tell you precisely what was wanting; but, amongst other
+matters, there is the fact that this Vincenza made a directly opposite
+statement, which counterbalances this one."
+
+"Then you have two written statements, contradicting each other? You
+might as well throw them both into the fire," said Brian, with some
+irritation. "Who is the 'authority' who preserves them? Can I not
+present myself to him and demand a sight of the documents?"
+
+"Under what name, and for what reason, would you ask to see them?"
+
+Brian winced; he had for the moment forgotten what his own hand had
+done.
+
+"I could still prove my identity," he said, looking down. "But, no; I
+will not. I did not lose myself upon the mountain-side because of this
+mystery about my birth, but because I wanted to escape my mother's
+reproaches and the burden of Richard's inheritance. Nothing will induce
+me to go back to Scotland. To all intents and purposes, I am dead."
+
+"Then," said the Prior, "since that is your resolution--your wise
+resolution, let me say--I will tell you frankly what my reading of the
+riddle has been, and what, I think, Vincenza did. It is my belief that
+Mrs. Luttrell's child died, and was buried under the name of Vincenza's
+child."
+
+"You, too, then--you believe that I am not a Luttrell?"
+
+"If the truth could ever be ascertained, which I do not think it will
+be, I believe that this would turn out to be the case. The key of the
+whole matter lies in the fact that Vincenza had twins. One of these
+children was sent to the grandmother in the country; one was nursed in
+the village of San Stefano. A fever had broken out in the village, and
+Vincenza's charge--the little Brian Luttrell--died. She immediately
+changed the dead child for her own, being wishful to escape the blame of
+carelessness, and retain her place; also to gain for her own child the
+advantages of wealth and position. The two boys, who have now grown to
+manhood, are brothers; children, of one mother; and Brian Luttrell--a
+baby boy of some four months old--sleeps, as his mother declares, in the
+graveyard of San Stefano."
+
+"Why did the nurse confess only a half-truth, then?"
+
+"She wanted to get absolution; and yet she did not want to injure the
+prospects of her child, I suppose. At the worst, she thought that one
+boy would be substituted for another. The woman was foolish--and
+wicked," said the Prior, with a grain of impatient contempt in his tone;
+"and the more foolish that she did not observe that she was outwitting
+herself--trying to cheat God as well as man."
+
+"Then--you think--that I----"
+
+"That you are the son of an Italian gardener and his wife. Courage, my
+son; it might have been worse. But I know nothing positively; I have
+constructed a theory out of Vincenza's self-contradictions; it may be
+true; it may be false. Of one thing I would remind you; that as you have
+given up your position in England and Scotland, you have no
+responsibility in the matter. You have done exactly what the law would
+have required you to do had it been proved that you were Vincenza's
+son."
+
+"But the other child--the boy who was sent to his grandmother? What
+became of him?"
+
+The Prior looked at him in silence for a little time before he spoke.
+"How do you feel towards him?" he said, finally. "Are you prepared to
+treat him as a brother or not?"
+
+Brian averted his face. "I have had but one brother," he said, shortly.
+"I cannot expect to find another--especially when I am not sure that he
+is of my blood or I of his."
+
+"In any case he is your foster-brother. I should like you to meet him."
+
+"Does he know the story?"
+
+"He does."
+
+"And is prepared to welcome me as a brother?" said Brian, with a bitter
+but agitated laugh. "Where is he? I will see him if you like."
+
+He had risen to his feet, and stood with his arms crossed, his brow
+knitted, his mouth firmly set. There was something hard in his face,
+something defiant in his attitude, which caused the Prior to add a word
+of remonstrance. "It is not his fault," he said, "any more than it is
+yours. You need not be enemies; it is my object to make you friends."
+
+"Let me see him," repeated Brian gloomily. "I do not wish to be his
+enemy. I do not promise to be his friend." |
+
+"I will send him to you," said the Prior. "Wait here till he comes."
+
+He left Brian alone; and the young man, thinking it likely that | he
+would be undisturbed for sometime to come, bent his face upon his hands,
+and tried to [missing word] his position. The strange tangle of
+circumstances in which he found himself involved would never be easy of
+adjustment; he wished with all his heart that he had refused the Prior's
+offer to make his foster-brother known to him, but it was too late now.
+Was it too late? Could he not send for Padre Cristoforo, and beg him to
+leave the Italian peasant in his own quiet home, ignorant of Brian's
+visit to the place where he was born? He would do it; and then he would
+leave San Stefano for ever; it was not yet too late.
+
+He lifted up his head and rose to his feet. He was not alone in the
+room. To his surprise he saw before him his friend, Dino.
+
+"You have come from Padre Cristoforo, have you?" said Brian, quickly and
+impetuously. He took no notice of the young man's manifest agitation and
+discomfort, which would have been clear to anybody less pre-occupied
+than Brian, at that moment. "Tell him from me that there is no need for
+me to see the man that he spoke of--that I do not wish to meet him. He
+will understand what I mean."
+
+A change, like that produced by a sudden electric shock, passed over
+Dino's face. His hands fell to his sides. They had been outstretched
+before, as if in greeting.
+
+"You do not want to see him?" he repeated.
+
+"I will not see him," said Brian, harshly, almost violently. "Weak as I
+am, I'll go straight out of the house and village sooner than meet him.
+Why does he want to see me? I have nothing to give him now."
+
+Long afterwards he remembered the look on Dino's face. Pain, regret,
+yearning affection, seemed to struggle for the mastery; his eyes were
+filled with tears, his lips were pale. But he said nothing. He went away
+from the room, and took the message that had been given him to the
+Prior.
+
+Brian felt that he had perhaps been selfish, but he consoled himself
+with the thought that the peasant lad would gain nothing by a meeting
+with him, and that such an embarrassing interview, as it must
+necessarily be, would be a pain to them both.
+
+But he did not know that the foster-brother (brother or foster-brother,
+which could it be?) was sobbing on the floor of the Prior's cell, in a
+passion of vehement grief at Brian's rejection of Padre Cristoforo's
+proposition. He would scarcely have understood that grief if he had seen
+it. He would have found it difficult to realise that the boy, Dino, had
+grown from childhood with a strong but suppressed belief in his mother's
+strange story, and yet, that, as soon as he saw Brian Luttrell, his
+heart had gone out to him with the passionate tenderness that he had
+waited all his life to bestow upon a brother.
+
+"Take it not so much to heart, Dino," said the Prior, looking down at
+him compassionately. "It was not to be expected that he would welcome
+the news. Thou art a fool, little one, to grieve over his coldness.
+Come, these are a girl's tears, and thou should'st be a man by now."
+
+The words were caressingly spoken, but they failed of their effect. Dino
+did not look up.
+
+"For one reason," said the Prior, in a colder tone, half to himself and
+half to the novice, "I am glad that he has not seen you. Your course
+will, perhaps, be the easier. Because, Dino, although I may believe my
+theory to be the correct one, and that you and our guest are both the
+children of Vincenza Vasari, yet it is a theory which is as difficult to
+prove as any other; and our good friend, the Cardinal, who was here last
+week, you know, chooses to take the other view."
+
+"What other view, Reverend Father?" said Dino.
+
+"The view that you are, indeed, Brian Luttrell, and not Vincenza's son."
+
+"But--you said--that it was impossible to prove----"
+
+"I think so, my dear son. But the Cardinal does not agree with me. We
+shall hear from him further. I believe it is the general opinion at Rome
+that you ought to be sent to Scotland in order to claim your position
+and the Luttrell estates. The case might at any rate be tried."
+
+Dino rose now, pale and trembling.
+
+"I do not want a position. I do not want to claim anything. I want to be
+a monk," he said.
+
+"You are not a monk yet," returned the Prior, calmly. "And it may not be
+your vocation to take the vows upon you. Now, do you see why you have
+been prevented from taking them hitherto? You may be called upon to act
+as a layman: to claim the estates, fight the battle with these Scotch
+heretics and come back to us a wealthy man! And in that case, you will
+act as a pious layman should do, and devote a portion of your wealth to
+Holy Church. But I do not say you would be successful; I think myself
+that you have little chance of success. Only let us feel that you are
+our obedient child, as you used to be."
+
+"I will do anything you wish," cried Dino, passionately, "so long as I
+bring no unhappiness upon others. I do not wish to be rich at Brian's
+expense."
+
+"He has renounced his birthright," said the Prior. "You will not have to
+fight him, my tender-hearted Dino. You will have a much harder foe--a
+woman. The estate has passed into the hands of a Miss Elizabeth Murray."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE VILLA VENTURI.
+
+
+An elderly English artist, with carefully-trimmed grey hair, a
+gold-rimmed eye-glass, and a velvet coat which was a little too hot as
+well as a little too picturesque for the occasion, had got into
+difficulties with his sketching apparatus on the banks of a lovely
+little river in North Italy. He had been followed for some distance by
+several children, who had never once ceased to whine for alms; and he
+had tried all arts in the hope of getting rid of them, and all in vain.
+He had thrown small coins to them; they had picked them up and clamoured
+only the more loudly; he had threatened them with his sketching
+umbrella, whereat they had screamed and run away, only to return in the
+space of five seconds with derisive laughter and hands outstretched more
+greedily than ever. When he reached the spot where he intended to make a
+sketch, his tormentors felt that they had him at their mercy. They
+swarmed round him, they peeped under his umbrella, they even threw one
+or two small stones at his back; and when, in desperation, their victim
+sprang up and turned upon them, they made a wild dash at his umbrella,
+which sent it into the stream, far beyond the worthy artist's reach.
+Then they took to their heels, leaving the good man to contemplate
+wofully the fate of his umbrella. It had drifted to the middle of the
+stream, had there been caught by a stone and a tuft of weed, and seemed
+destined to complete destruction. He tried to arrest its course, but
+could not reach it, and nearly over-balanced himself in the attempt;
+then he sat down upon the bank and gave vent to an ejaculation of mild
+impatience--"Oh, dear, dear, dear me! I wish Elizabeth were here."
+
+It was so small a catastrophe, after all, and yet it called up a look of
+each unmistakable vexation to that naturally tranquil and abstracted
+countenance, that a spectator of the scene repressed a smile which had
+risen to his lips and came to the rescue.
+
+"Can I be of any assistance to you, sir?" he said.
+
+The artist gave a violent start. He had not previously seen the speaker,
+who had been lying on the grass at a few yards' distance, screened from
+sight by an intervening clump of brushwood. He came forward and stood by
+the water, looking at the opened umbrella.
+
+"I think I could get it," he said. "The water is very shallow."
+
+"But--my dear sir--pray do not trouble yourself; it is entirely
+unnecessary. I do not wish to give the slightest inconvenience,"
+stammered the Englishman, secretly relieved, but very much embarrassed
+at the same time. "Pray, be careful--it's very wet. Good Heaven!" The
+last exclamation was caused by the fact that the new-comer had calmly
+divested himself of his boots and socks and was stepping into the water.
+"Indeed, it's scarcely worth the trouble that you are taking."
+
+"It is not much trouble to wade for a minute or two in this deliciously
+cool water," said the stranger, with a smile, as he returned from his
+expedition, umbrella in hand. "There, I think you will find it
+uninjured. It's a wonder that it was not broken. You would have been
+inconvenienced without it on this hot day."
+
+He raised his hat slightly as he spoke and moved away. The artist
+received another shock. This young man--for he moved with the strength
+and lightness of one still young, and his face was a young face,
+too--this young man had grey hair--perfectly grey. There was not a black
+thread amongst it. For one moment the artist was so much astonished that
+he nearly forgot to thank the stranger for the service that he had
+rendered him.
+
+"One moment," he said, hurriedly. "Pray allow me to thank you. I am very
+much obliged to you. You don't know how great a service you have done
+me. If I can be of any use to you in any way----"
+
+"It was a very trifling service," said the young man, courteously. "I
+wish it had been my good fortune to do you a greater one. This was
+nothing."
+
+"Foreign!" murmured the artist to himself, as the stranger returned to
+his lair behind the thicket, where he seemed to be occupying himself in
+putting on his socks and boots once more. "No Englishman would have
+answered in that way. I wish he had not disappeared so quickly. I should
+like to have made a sketch of his head. Hum! I shall not sketch much
+to-day, I fancy."
+
+He shut up his paint-box with an air of resolution, and walked leisurely
+to the spot where the young man was completing his toilet. "I ought
+perhaps to explain," he began, with an air which he fancied was
+Machiavellian in its simplicity, "that the loss of that umbrella would
+have been a serious matter to me. It might have entailed another and
+more serious loss--the loss of my liberty."
+
+The young man looked up with a puzzled and slightly doubtful expression.
+"I beg your pardon," he said. "The loss of----"
+
+"The loss of my liberty," said the Englishman, in a louder and rather
+triumphant tone of voice. "The fact is, my dear sir, that I have a very
+tender and careful wife, and an equally tender and careful daughter and
+niece, who have so little confidence in my power of caring for my own
+safety that they have at various times threatened to accompany me in all
+my sketching expeditions. Now, if I came home to them and confessed that
+I had been attacked by a troop of savage Italian children, who tossed my
+umbrella into the river, do you think I should ever be allowed to
+venture out alone again?"
+
+The young man smiled, with a look of comprehension.
+
+"Can I be of any further use to you?" he said. "Can I walk back to the
+town with you, or carry any of your things?"
+
+"You can be of very great use to me, indeed," said the gentleman,
+opening his sketch-book in a great hurry, and then producing a card from
+some concealed pocket in his velvet coat. "I'm an artist--allow me to
+introduce myself--my name is Heron; you would be of the very greatest
+use to me if you would allow me to--to make a sketch of your head for a
+picture that I am doing just now. It is the very thing--if you will
+excuse the liberty that I am taking----"
+
+He had his pencil ready, but he faltered a little as he saw the sudden
+change which came over his new acquaintance's face at the sound of his
+proposition. The young man flushed to his temples, and then turned
+suddenly pale. He did not speak, but Mr. Heron inferred offence from his
+silence, and became exceedingly profuse in his apologies.
+
+"It is of no consequence," said the stranger, breaking in upon Mr.
+Heron's incoherent sentences with some abruptness. "I was merely
+surprised for the moment; and, after all--I think I must ask you to
+excuse me; I have a great dislike--a sort of nervous dislike--to sitting
+for a portrait. I would rather that you did not sketch me, if you
+please."
+
+"Oh, certainly, certainly; I am only sorry that I mentioned it," said
+Mr. Heron, more formally than usual. He was a little vexed at his own
+precipitation, and also by the way in which his request had been
+received. For a few moments there was a somewhat awkward silence, during
+which the young man stood with his eyes cast down, apparently absorbed
+in thought. "A striking face," thought Mr. Heron to himself, being
+greatly attracted by the appearance of his new friend; "all the more
+picturesque on account of that curious grey hair. I wonder what his
+history has been." Then he spoke aloud and in a kindlier tone. "I will
+accept your offer of help," he said, "and ask you to walk back with me
+to the town, if you are going that way. I came by a short cut, which I
+am quite sure that I shall never remember."
+
+The young man awoke from his apparently sad meditations; his fine, dark
+eyes were lightened by a grateful smile as he looked at Mr. Heron. It
+seemed as though he were glad that something had been suggested that he
+could do. But the smile was succeeded by a still more settled look of
+gloom.
+
+"I must introduce myself," he said. "I have no card with me--perhaps
+this will do as well." He held out the book that he had been reading; it
+was a copy of Horace's _Odes_, bound in vellum. On the fly-leaf, a name
+had been scrawled in pencil--John Stretton. Mr. Heron glanced at it
+through his eye-glass, nodded pleasantly, and regarded his new friend
+with increased respect.
+
+"You're a scholar, I see," he said, good-humouredly, as they strolled
+leisurely towards the little town in which he had told John Stretton
+that he was staying; "or else you would not bring Horace out with you
+into the fields on a sunshiny day like this. I have forgotten almost all
+my classical lore. To tell the truth, Mr. Stretton, I never found it
+very much good to me; but I suppose all boys have got to have a certain
+amount of it drilled into them----?" He stopped short in an interrogative
+manner.
+
+"I suppose so," said Stretton, without a smile. His eyes were bent on
+the ground; there was a joyless contraction of his delicate, dark brows.
+It was with an evident effort that he suddenly looked up and spoke. "I
+have an interest in such subjects. I am trying to find pupils
+myself--or, at least, I hope to find some when I return to England in a
+week or two. I think," he added with a half-laugh, "that I am a pretty
+good classic--good enough, at least, to teach small boys!"
+
+"I dare say, I dare say," said Mr. Heron, hastily. He looked as if he
+would like to put another question or two, then turned away, muttered
+something inaudible, and started off upon a totally different subject,
+about which he laid down the law with unaccustomed volubility and
+decision. Stretton listened, assented now and then, but took care to say
+little in reply. A sudden turn in the road brought them close to a fine,
+old building, grey with age, but stately still, at the sight of which
+Mr. Heron became silent and slackened his pace.
+
+"A magnificent old place," said Stretton, looking up at it as his
+companion paused before the gateway.
+
+"Picturesque, but not very waterproof," said Mr. Heron, with a dismal
+air of conviction. "It is what they call the Villa Venturi. There are
+some charming bits of colour about it, but I am not sure that it is the
+best possible residence."
+
+"You are residing here?"
+
+"For the present--yes. You must come in and see the banqueting-hall and
+the terrace; you must, indeed. My wife will be delighted to thank you
+herself--for the rescue of the umbrella!" and Mr. Heron laughed quietly
+below his breath. "Yes, yes"--as Stretton showed symptoms of
+refusing--"I can take no denial. After your long, hot walk with me, you
+must come in and rest, if it is but for half-an-hour. You do not know
+what pleasure it gives me to have a chat with some one like yourself,
+who can properly appreciate the influence of the Renaissance upon
+Italian art."
+
+Stretton yielded rather than listen to any more of such gross and open
+flattery. He followed Mr. Heron under the gateway into a paved
+courtyard, flanked on three sides by out-buildings and a clock tower,
+and on the fourth by the house itself. Mr. Heron led the way through
+some dark, cool passages, expatiating as he went upon the architecture
+of the building; finally they entered a small but pleasant little room,
+where he offered his guest a seat, and ordered refreshments to be set
+before him.
+
+"I am afraid that everyone is out," Mr. Heron said, after opening and
+shutting the doors of two or three rooms in succession, and returning to
+Stretton with rather a discomfited countenance. "The afternoon is
+growing cool, you see, and they have gone for a drive. However, you can
+have a look at the terrace and the banqueting-hall while it's still
+light, and we shall hope for the pleasure of your company at some other
+time when my wife is at home, Mr. Stretton, if you are staying near us."
+
+"You are very kind," murmured Stretton. "But I fear that I must proceed
+with my journey to-morrow. I ought not to stay--I must not----"
+
+He broke off abruptly. Mr. Heron forgot his good manners, and stared at
+him in surprise. There was something a little odd about this grey-haired
+young man after all. But, after a pause, the stranger seemed to recover
+his self-possession, and repeated his excuses more intelligibly. Mr.
+Heron was sorry to hear of his probable departure.
+
+They wandered round the garden together. It was a pleasant place, with
+terraced walks and shady alcoves, so quaint and trim that it might well
+have passed for that fair garden to which Boccaccio's fine ladies and
+gallant cavaliers fled when the plague raged in Florence, or for the
+scene on which the hapless Francesca looked when she read the story of
+Lancelot that led to her own undoing. Some such fancies as these passed
+through the crannies of Stretton's mind while he seemed to be listening
+to Mr. Heron's mildly-pedantic allocutions, and absorbed in the
+consideration of mediaeval art. Mr. Heron was in raptures with his
+listener.
+
+"Oh, by-the-bye," said the artist, suddenly, as they paused beside one
+of the windows on the terrace, "if I may trouble you to wait here a
+minute, I will go and fetch the sketch I have made of the garden from
+this point. You will excuse me for a moment. Won't you go inside the
+house? The window is open--go in, if you like."
+
+He disappeared into another portion of the house, leaving Stretton
+somewhat amused by his host's unceremonious demeanour. He did not accept
+the invitation; he leaned against the wall rather languidly, as though
+fatigued by his long walk, and tried to make friends with a beautiful
+peacock which seemed to expect him to feed it, and yet was half-afraid
+to approach.
+
+As he waited, a gentle sound, of which he had been conscious ever since
+he halted close to the window, rose more distinctly upon his ear. It was
+the sound of a voice engaged in some sort of monotonous reading or
+reciting, and it seemed first to advance to the window near which he
+stood and then to recede. He soon discovered that it was accompanied by
+a soft but regular footfall. It was plain that somebody--some woman,
+evidently--was pacing the floor of the room to which this window
+belonged, and that she was repeating poetry, either to herself or to
+some silent listener. As she came near the window, Stretton heard the
+words of an old ballad with which he was himself familiar--
+
+    "I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
+      Wi' the old moon in her arm:
+    And if we gang to sea, master,
+      I fear we'd come to harm."
+
+The voice died away as it travelled down the space of the long room.
+Presently it came nearer; the verses were still going on--
+
+    "Oh, lang, lang may the ladies sit,
+      With their fans into their hand,
+    Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
+      Come sailing to the strand.
+
+    And lang lang may the maidens sit,
+      With their gowd combs in their hair,
+    A' waiting for their ain dear loves,
+      For them they'll see nae mair."
+
+"Betty," said a feeble little voice--a child's voice, apparently quite
+close to the window now--"I want you to say those two verses over again;
+I like them. And the one about the old moon with the new moon in her
+arms; isn't that pretty?"
+
+"You like that, do you, my little Jack?" said the woman's voice; a rich,
+low voice, so melodious in its loving tones that Stretton positively
+started when he heard it, for it had been carefully subdued to monotony
+during the recitation, and he had not realised its full sweetness. "Do
+you know, darling, I thought that you were asleep?"
+
+"Asleep, Betty? I never go to sleep when you are saying poetry to me.
+Aren't you tired of carrying me?"
+
+"I am never tired of carrying you, Jack."
+
+"My own dear, sweet Queen Bess!" There was the sound of a long, loving
+kiss; and then the slow pacing up and down and the recitation
+re-commenced.
+
+Stretton had thought that morning that nothing could induce him to
+interest himself again in the world's affairs; but at that moment he was
+conscious of the strongest possible feeling of curiosity to see the
+owner of so sweet a voice. The slightest movement on his part, the
+slightest possible push given to the window, which opened into the room
+like a door and was already ajar, would have enabled him to see the
+speakers. But he would not do this. He told himself that he ought to
+move away from the window, but self-government failed him a little at
+that point. He could not lose the opportunity of hearing that beautiful
+voice again. "It ought to belong to a beautiful woman," he thought, with
+a half smile, "but, unfortunately, Nature's gifts are distributed very
+sparingly sometimes. This girl, whosoever she may be--for I know she is
+young--has a lovely voice, and probably a crooked figure or a squint. I
+suppose she is Mr. Heron's daughter. Ah, here he comes!"
+
+The artist's flying grey beard and loose velvet coat were seen upon the
+terrace at this moment. "I cannot find the sketch," he cried,
+dolorously. "The servants have been tidying the place whilst I was
+out--confound them! You must positively stop over to-morrow and see it.
+This is the banqueting-room--why didn't you go in?" And he pushed wide
+the window which the young man had refrained from opening a single inch.
+
+A flood of light fell on a yard or two of polished oak flooring; but at
+first Stretton could see nothing more, for the rest of the room seemed
+to be in complete darkness to his dazzled eyed. The blinds of the
+numerous windows were all drawn down, and some minutes elapsed before he
+could distinguish any particular object in the soft gloom of the
+apartments. And then he saw that Mr. Heron was speaking to a lady in
+white, and he discovered at once, with a curious quickening of his
+pulses, that the reciter of the ballad stood before him with a child in
+her arms.
+
+She was beautiful, after all! That was Stretton's first thought. She was
+as stately as a queen, with a natural crown of golden-brown hair upon
+her well-poised head; the grand lines of her figure were emphasized by
+the plainness of her soft, white dress, which fell to her feet in folds
+that a sculptor might have envied. The only ornament she wore was a
+string of Venetian beads round the milky whiteness of her throat, but
+her beauty was not of a kind that required adornment. It was like that
+of a flower--perfect in itself, and quite independent of exterior aid.
+In fact, she was not unlike some tall and stately blossom, or so
+Stretton thought, no exotic flower, but something as strong and hardy as
+it was at the same time delicately beautiful. Her eyes had the colouring
+that one sees in the iris-lily sometimes--a tint which is almost grey,
+but merges into purple; eyes, as the poet says--
+
+    "Too expressive to be blue.
+    Too lovely to be grey."
+
+In her arms she carried little Jack Heron, and by the way in which she
+held him, it was plain that she was well accustomed to the burden, and
+that his light weight did not tire her well-knit, vigorous limbs. His
+pale, little face looked wistfully at the stranger; it was a curious
+contrast to the glowing yet delicate beauty and perfect health presented
+by the countenance of his cousin Elizabeth.
+
+Meanwhile, Mr. Heron was introducing the stranger, which he did with a
+note of apology in his voice, which Stretton was not slow to remark. But
+Elizabeth--he did not catch her name, and still thought her to be a Miss
+Heron--soon put him at his ease. She accompanied the artist and his
+friend round the banqueting-hall, as they inspected the fine, old
+pictures with which it was hung; she walked with them on the
+terrace--little Jack still cradled in her arms; and wheresoever she
+went, it seemed to Stretton that he had never in all his life seen any
+woman half so fair.
+
+He did not leave the house, after all, until late that night. He dined
+with the Herons; he saw Mrs. Heron, and Kitty, and the boys; but he had
+no eyes nor ears for anyone but Elizabeth. He did not know why she
+charmed him; he knew only that it was a pleasure to him to see and hear
+her slightest word and movement; and he put this down to the fact that
+she had a sympathetic voice, and a face of undoubted beauty. But in very
+truth, John Stretton--alias Brian Luttrell--returned to his inn that
+night in the brilliant Italian moonlight, having (for the first time in
+his life, be it observed) fallen desperately, passionately in love. And
+the woman that he loved was the heiress of the Luttrell estates; the
+last person in the world whom he would have dreamt of loving, had he but
+known her name.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+"WITHOUT A REFERENCE."
+
+
+Brian--or to avoid confusion, let us call him by the name that he had
+adopted, Stretton--rose early, drank a cup of coffee, and was sitting in
+the little verandah outside the inn, looking dreamily out towards a
+distant view of the sea, and thinking (must the truth be told?) of
+Elizabeth, when a visitor was announced. He looked round, and, to his
+surprise, beheld Mr. Heron.
+
+The artist was graver in manner and also a little more nervous than
+usual. After the first greetings were over he sank into an embarrassed
+silence, played with his watch-chain and his eye-glass, and, at last,
+burst somewhat abruptly into the subject upon which he had really come
+to speak.
+
+"Mr. Stretton," he said, "I trust that you will excuse me if I am taking
+a liberty; but the fact is, you mentioned to me yesterday that you
+thought of taking pupils----"
+
+"Yes," Stretton answered, simply. "I should be very glad if I could find
+any."
+
+"We think that we could find you some, Mr. Stretton."
+
+The young man's pale face flushed; but he did not speak. He only looked
+anxiously at the artist, who was pulling his pointed grey beard in a
+meditative fashion, and seemed uncertain how to proceed with his
+proposition.
+
+"I have two boys running wild for want of a tutor," he said at last. "We
+shall be here some weeks longer, and we don't know what to do with them.
+My wife says they are too much for her. Elizabeth has devoted herself to
+poor little Jack (something sadly wrong with his spine, I'm afraid, Mr.
+Stretton). Kitty--well, Kitty is only a child herself. The point
+is--would it be a waste of your time, Mr. Stretton, to ask you to spend
+a few weeks in this neighbourhood, and give these boys two or three
+hours a day? We thought that you might find it worth your while."
+
+Stretton was standing, with his shoulder against one of the vine-clad
+posts that supported the verandah. Mr. Heron wondered at his
+discomposure; for his colour changed from red to white and from white to
+red as sensitively as a girl's, and it was with evident difficulty that
+he brought himself to speak. But when he spoke the mystery seemed, in
+Mr. Heron's eyes, to be partly solved.
+
+"I had better mention one thing from the very first," said the young
+man, quietly. "I have no references. I am afraid the lack of them will
+be a fatal drawback with most people."
+
+"No references!" stammered Mr. Heron, evidently much taken aback.
+"But--my dear young friend--how do you propose to get a tutor's work
+without them?"
+
+"I don't know," said Stretton, with a smile in which a touch of
+sternness made itself felt rather than seen. "I don't suppose that I
+shall get very much work at all. But I hope to earn my bread in one way
+or another."
+
+"I--I--well, I really don't know what to say," remarked Mr. Heron,
+getting up, and buttoning his yellow gloves reflectively. "I should have
+no objection. I judge for myself, don't you know, by the face and the
+manner and all that sort of thing; but it's a different thing when it
+comes to dealing with women, you know. They are so particular----"
+
+"I am afraid I should not suit Mrs. Heron's requirements," said
+Stretton, in a very quiet tone.
+
+"It isn't that exactly," said Mr. Heron, hesitating; "and yet--well, of
+course, you know it isn't the usual thing to be met with the plain
+statement that you have no references! Not that I might even have
+thought of asking for them; ten to one that it would ever have occurred
+to me--but my wife----. Come, you don't mean it literally? You have
+friends in England, no doubt, but you don't want to apply to them."
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Heron; I spoke the literal truth. I have no references
+to give either as to character, attainments, or birth. I have no
+friends. And I agree with you and Mrs. Heron that I should not be a fit
+person to teach your boys their Latin accidence--that's all."
+
+"Not so fast, if you please," said Mr. Heron, more impressed by
+Stretton's tone of cold independence than he would have been by sheaves
+of testimonials to his abilities; "not so fast, my good fellow. Now,
+will you do me a favour? Let me think the matter over for half-an-hour,
+and come to you again. Then we will decide the matter, one way or the
+other."
+
+"I should prefer to consider the matter decided now," said Stretton.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear sir, you must not be hasty. In half-an-hour I shall
+see you again," cried the artist, as he turned his back on the young
+man, and walked off towards the Villa Venturi, swinging his stick
+jauntily in his hand. Stretton watched him, and bit his lip.
+
+"I was a fool to say that I wanted work," he said to himself, "and
+perhaps a greater fool to blurt out the fact that I had no respectable
+references so easily. However, I've done for myself in that quarter. The
+British dragon, Mrs. Grundy, would never admit a man as tutor to her
+boys under these mysterious circumstances. All the better, perhaps. I
+should be looked upon with suspicion, as a man 'under a cloud.' And I
+should not like that, especially in the case of that beautiful Miss
+Heron, whose clear eyes seem to rebuke any want of candour or courage by
+their calm fearlessness of gaze. Well, I shall not meet her under false
+pretences now, at any rate." And then he gave vent to a short, impatient
+sigh, and resumed the seat that he had vacated for Mr. Heron's benefit.
+
+He tried to read; but found, to his disgust, that he could not fix his
+mind on the printed page. He kept wondering what report Mr. Heron was
+giving to his wife and family of the interview that he had had with the
+English tutor "without references."
+
+"Perhaps they think that I was civil to the father because I hoped to
+get something out of them," said Stretton to himself, frowning anxiously
+at the line of blue sea in the distance. "Perhaps they are accusing me
+of being a rank impostor. What if they do? What else have I been all my
+life? What a fool I am!"
+
+In despair he flung aside his book, went up to his bed-room, and began
+to pack the modest knapsack which contained all his worldly wealth. In
+half-an-hour--when he had had that five minutes' decisive conversation
+with Mr. Heron--he would be on his way to Naples.
+
+He had all but finished his packing when the landlord shuffled upstairs
+to speak to him. There was a messenger from the Villa Venturi. There was
+also a note. Stretton opened it and read:--
+
+     "Dear Mr. Stretton,--Will you do me the favour to come up to the
+     villa as soon as you receive this note? I am sorry to trouble you,
+     but I think I can explain my motive when we meet.
+
+     "Yours truly,
+
+     "Alfred Heron."
+
+Stretton crumpled the note up in his hand, and let it drop to the floor.
+He glanced at his knapsack. Had he packed it too soon or not?
+
+He followed the servant, whom he found in waiting for him--a stolid,
+impenetrable-looking Englishman, who led the way to an entrance into the
+garden of the villa--an entrance which Stretton did not know.
+
+"Is your master in the garden? Does he wish me to come this way?" he
+asked, rather sharply.
+
+The stolid servant bowed his head.
+
+"My master desired me to take you to the lower terrace, sir, if you
+didn't find it too 'ot," he said, solemnly. And Stretton said nothing
+more. The lower terrace? It was not the terrace by the house; it was one
+at the further end of the garden, and, as he soon saw, it was upon a
+cliff overlooking the sea. It was overshadowed by the foliage of some
+great trees, and commanded a magnificent view of the coast, broken here
+and there into inlets and tiny bays, beyond which stretched "the deep
+sapphire of the sea." A slight haze hung over the distance, through
+which the forms of mountain peaks and tiny islets could yet be clearly
+seen. The wash of the water at the foot of the cliff, the chirp of the
+cicadas, were the only sounds to be heard. And here, on a low, wooden
+bench, in the deepest and coolest shade afforded by the trees, Stretton
+found--not Mr. Heron, as he had expected, but--Elizabeth.
+
+He bowed, hesitating and confused for the moment, but she gave him her
+white hand with a friendly look which set him at his ease, just as it
+had done upon his entrance to the villa on the previous evening.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Stretton," she said, "will you not? My uncle has gone up
+to the house for a paper, or a book, or something, and I undertook to
+entertain you until he came back. Have we not a lovely view? And one is
+always cool here under the trees, now that the heats of summer are past.
+I think you will find it a good place to read in when you are tired of
+giving lessons--that is, if you are going to be so kind as to give
+lessons to our troublesome boys."
+
+She had looked at him once, and in that glance she read what would have
+taken Mr. Heron's obtuse male intellect weeks to comprehend. She saw the
+young man's slight embarrassment and the touch of pride mingling with
+it; she noticed the spareness of outline and the varying colour which
+suggested recent illness, or delicacy of health; above all, she observed
+the expression of his face, high, noble, refined, as it had always been,
+but darkened by some inexplicable shadow from the past, some trace of
+sorrow which could never be altogether swept away. Seeing all these
+things, she knew instinctively that the calmest and quietest way of
+speaking would suit him best, and she felt that she was right when he
+answered, in rather low and shaken tones--
+
+"Pardon me. It is for Mr. Heron to decide; not for me."
+
+"I think my uncle has decided," said Elizabeth. "He asked me to
+ascertain when you would be willing to give the boys their first
+lesson."
+
+"He said that, now? Since he saw me?" cried Stretton, as if in
+uncontrollable surprise.
+
+Elizabeth's lips straightened themselves for a moment. Then she turned
+her face towards the young man, with the look of mingled dignity and
+candour which had already impressed him so deeply, and said, gently--
+
+"Is there anything to be surprised at in that?"
+
+"Yes," said Stretton, hanging his head, and absently pulling forward a
+long spray of clematis which grew beside him. "It is a very surprising
+thing to me that Mr. Heron should take me on trust--a man without
+recommendation, or influence, or friends." He plucked the spray as he
+spoke, and played restlessly with the leaves. Elizabeth watched his
+fingers; she saw that the movement was intended to disguise the fact
+that they were trembling. "As it is," he went on, "even though your
+father--I beg pardon, your uncle--admits me to this house, I doubt
+whether I do well to come. I think it would be better in many ways that
+I should decline this situation."
+
+He let the leaves fall from his hand and rose to his feet. "Will you
+tell Mr. Heron what I say?" he asked, in an agitated voice. "Tell him I
+will not take advantage of his kindness. I will go on to Naples--this
+afternoon."
+
+Elizabeth was puzzled. This was a specimen of humanity the like of which
+she had never met before. It interested her; though she hardly wished to
+interfere in the affairs of a man who was so much of a riddle to her.
+That he was a stranger and that he was young--not much older than
+herself, very probably--were facts that did not enter her mind with any
+deterrent force.
+
+But as Stretton lifted his hat and turned to leave her, she noticed how
+white and wan he looked.
+
+"Mr. Stretton," she said, imperiously, "please to sit down. You are not
+to attempt that long, hot walk again just now. Besides, you must wait to
+see my uncle. Sit down, please. Now, tell me, you have been ill lately,
+have you not?"
+
+"Yes," said Stretton, seating himself as she bade him, and answering
+meekly. "I had brain fever more than a year ago at the monastery of San
+Stefano, and my recovery was a slow one."
+
+"I know the Prior of San Stefano--Padre Cristoforo. Do you remember
+him?"
+
+"Yes. He was very good to me. I was there for twelve months or more. He
+gave me work to do in the school."
+
+"Will you mention that to my uncle? He is very fond of Padre
+Cristoforo."
+
+"I thought," said Stretton, colouring a little, and almost as though he
+were excusing himself, "that it would be useless to give the name of a
+Romanist Prior as a referee to Mr. Heron. Most people would think it an
+objection in itself?"
+
+"Why not give English names, then?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Because I have no English friends."
+
+There was a little silence. Stretton was leaning back in his seat,
+looking quietly out to sea; Elizabeth was sitting erect, with her hands
+crossed on her lap. Presently she spoke, but without turning her head.
+
+"Mr. Stretton, I do not want you to think my remarks impertinent or
+uncalled for. I must tell you first that I am in a somewhat unusual
+position. My aunt is an invalid, and does not like to be troubled about
+the children; my uncle hates to decide anything for himself. They have
+fallen into the habit--the unlucky habit for me--of referring many
+practical matters to my decision, and, therefore, you will understand
+that my uncle came to me on his return from the inn this morning and
+told me what you had said. I want to explain all this, so that you may
+see how it is that I have heard it so quickly. No one else knows."
+
+"You are very good," said Stretton, feeling his whole heart strengthened
+and warmed by this frank explanation. "I think you must see how great a
+drawback my absence of recommendations is likely to be to me."
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, seriously, "I do. But if you cannot overcome it
+in this case, how are you going to overcome it at all?"
+
+"I don't know, Miss Heron."
+
+"You said that you wished to take pupils," Elizabeth went on, too much
+interested in the subject to notice the mistake made in her name; "you
+told my uncle so, I believe. Will you get them more easily in England
+than here?"
+
+"I shall no doubt find somebody who will forego the advantages of a
+'character' for the sake of a little scholarship," said Stretton, rather
+bitterly. "Some schoolmaster, who wants his drudgery done cheap."
+
+"Drudgery, indeed!" said Elizabeth, softly. Then, after a pause--"That
+seems a great pity. And you are an Oxford man, too!"
+
+Stretton looked up, "How do you know that?" he said, almost sharply.
+
+"You talked of Balliol last night as if you knew it."
+
+"You have a good memory, Miss Heron. Yes, I was at Balliol; but you will
+not identify me there. The truth will out, you see; I was not at Oxford
+under my present name."
+
+He thought he should read a look of shocked surprise upon her face; but
+he was mistaken. She seemed merely to be studying him with grave,
+womanly watchfulness; not to be easily biassed, nor lightly turned
+aside.
+
+"That is your own affair, of course," she said. "You have a right to
+change your name if you choose. In your own name, I dare say you would
+have plenty of friends."
+
+"I had," he answered, gravely, but not, as she noticed, as if he were
+ashamed of having lost them.
+
+"And you have none now?"
+
+"Absolutely none."
+
+"Through your own fault?" She wondered afterwards how she had the
+courage to ask the question; but, at the moment, it came naturally to
+her lips, and he answered it as simply as it was asked.
+
+"No. Through my misfortune. Pray ask me nothing more."
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "I ought not to have asked anything. But
+I was anxious--for the children's sakes--and there was nobody to speak
+but myself. I will say nothing more."
+
+"I shall beg of you," said Stretton, trying to speak in as even a tone
+as hers, although the muscles round his lips quivered once or twice and
+made utterance somewhat difficult, "I shall beg of you to tell what I
+have said to Mr. Heron only; you and he will perhaps kindly guard my
+secret. I wish I could be more frank; but it is impossible. I trust
+that, when I find employment, my employers will be as kind, as generous,
+as you have been to-day. You will tell your uncle?"
+
+"What am I to tell him?" she said, turning her eyes upon him with a
+kindly smile in their serene depths. "That you will be here to-morrow at
+nine o'clock--or eight, before the day grows hot? Eight will be best,
+because the boys get so terribly sleepy and cross, you know, in the
+middle of the day; and you will be able to breakfast here at half-past
+ten as we do."
+
+He looked at her, scarcely believing the testimony of his own ears. She
+saw his doubt, and continued quietly enough, though still with that
+lurking smile in her sweet eyes. "You must not find fault with them if
+they are badly grounded; or rather you must find fault with me, for I
+have taught them nearly everything they know. They are good boys, if
+they are a little unruly now and then. Here is my uncle coming from the
+house. You had really better wait and see him, will you not, Mr.
+Stretton? I will leave you to talk business together."
+
+She rose and moved away. Stretton stood like a statue, passionately
+desiring to speak, yet scarcely knowing what to say. It was only when
+she gave him a slight, parting smile over her shoulder that he found his
+voice.
+
+"I can't thank you," he said, hoarsely. She paused for a moment, and he
+spoke again, with long gaps between the sentences. "You don't know what
+you have done for me.... I have something to live for now.... God bless
+you."
+
+He turned abruptly towards the sea, and Elizabeth, after hesitating for
+a moment, went silently to meet her uncle. She was more touched than she
+liked to acknowledge to herself by the young man's emotion; and she felt
+all the pleasurable glow that usually accompanies the doing of a good
+deed.
+
+"Perhaps we have saved him from great misery--poverty and starvation,"
+she mused to herself. "I am sure that he is good; he has such a fine
+face, and he speaks so frankly about his troubles. Of course, as my
+uncle says, he may be an adventurer; but I do not think he is. We shall
+soon be able to judge of his character."
+
+"Well, Betty," said Mr. Heron, as he came up to her, "what success? Have
+you dismissed the young man in disgrace, or are we to let him try to
+instruct these noisy lads every morning?"
+
+"I think you had better try him, uncle."
+
+"My dear Elizabeth, it is not for me to decide the question. You know
+very well that I could not do what you insist upon doing for us all----"
+
+"Don't tell Mr. Stretton that, please, uncle."
+
+Mr. Heron stopped short, and looked at her almost piteously.
+
+"Dear child, how can I go on pretending to be the master of this house,
+and hiring tutors for my children, when the expense comes out of your
+purse and not out of mine?"
+
+"My purse is wide enough," said Elizabeth, laughing. "Dear uncle, I
+should hate this money if I might not use it in the way I please. What
+good would it be to me if you could not all share it? Besides, I do not
+want to be gossiped about and stared at, as is the lot of most young
+women who happen to be heiresses. I am your orphan niece--that is all
+that the outside world need know. What does it matter which of us really
+owns the money?"
+
+"There are very few people of your opinion, my dear," said her uncle.
+"But you are a good, kind, generous girl, and we are more grateful to
+you than we can say. And now, shall I talk to this young man? Have you
+asked him any questions?"
+
+"Yes. I do not think that we need reject him because he has no
+references, uncle."
+
+"Very well, Elizabeth. I quite agree with you. But, on the whole, we
+won't mention the fact of his having no references to the rest of the
+family."
+
+"Just what I was about to say, Uncle Alfred."
+
+Thereupon she betook herself to the house, and Mr. Heron proceeded to
+the bench on the cliff, where he held a long and apparently satisfactory
+colloquy with his visitor. And at the end of the conversation it was
+decided that Mr. John Stretton, as he called himself, should give three
+or four hours daily of his valuable time to the instruction of the more
+youthful members of the Heron family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+PERCIVAL'S HOLIDAY.
+
+
+"Hey for the South, the sunny South!" said Percival Heron, striding into
+his friend Vivian's room with a lighted cigar between his teeth and a
+letter in his hand. "I'm off to Italy to-morrow."
+
+"I wish to Heaven that I were off, too!" returned Rupert, leaning back
+in a lounging-chair with a look of lazy discontent. "The fogs last all
+the year round in London. This is May; I don't know why I am in town at
+all."
+
+"Nor I," said his friend, briskly. "Especially when you have the cash to
+take you out of town as often as you like, and whenever you like, while
+I have to wait on the tender mercies of publishers and editors before I
+can put fifty pounds in my pocket and go for a holiday."
+
+"You're in luck just now, then, I am to understand?"
+
+"Very much so. Look at that, my boy." And he flourished a piece of thin
+paper in Vivian's face. "A cheque for a hundred. I am going to squander
+it on railway lines as soon as possible."
+
+"You are going to join your family?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to join my family. What a sweetly domestic sound! I
+don't care a rap for my family. I am going to see the woman I love best
+in the world, and, if she were not in Italy, I doubt whether wild horses
+would ever draw me from this vast, tumultuous, smoky, beloved city of
+mine--Alma Mater, indeed, to me, and to scores of men who are your
+brothers and mine----"
+
+"Now, look here, Percival," said Rupert, in a slightly wearied tone, "if
+you are going to rant and rave, I'll go out. My room is quite at your
+disposal, but I am not. I've got a headache. Why don't you go to a
+theatre or a music hall, and work off your superfluous energy there by
+clapping and shouting applause?"
+
+Percival laughed, but seated himself and spoke in a gentler tone.
+
+"I'll remember your susceptibilities, my friend. Let me stay and smoke,
+that's all. Throw a book at my head if I grow too noisy. Or hand me that
+'Review' at your elbow. I'll read it and hold my tongue."
+
+He was as good as his word. He read so long and so quietly that Vivian
+turned his head at last and addressed him of his own accord.
+
+"What makes your people stay so long abroad?" he said. "Are they going
+to stop there all the summer? I never heard that a summer in Italy was a
+desirable thing."
+
+"It's Elizabeth's doing," answered Percival, coolly. "She and my father
+between them got up an Italian craze; and off they went as soon as ever
+she came into that property, dragging the family behind them, all laden
+with books on Italian art, and quoting Augustus Hare, Symonds, and
+Ruskin indiscriminately. I don't suppose Kitty will have a brain left to
+stand on when she comes back again--if ever she does come back."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Rupert, with a sudden deep change of voice.
+
+"I mean--nothing. I mean, if she does not marry an Italian count or an
+English adventurer, or catch malaria and die in a swamp."
+
+"Good Heavens, Percival! how can you talk so coolly? One would think
+that it was a joke!"
+
+Vivian had risen from his chair, and was standing erect, with a decided
+frown upon his brow. Percival glanced at him, and answered lightly.
+
+"Don't make such a pother about nothing. She's all right. They're in a
+very healthy place; a little seaside village, where it has been quite
+cool, they say, so far. And they will return before long, because they
+mean to spend the autumn in Scotland. Yes, they say it is 'quite cool'
+at present. Don't see how it can be cool myself; but that's their look
+out. They've all been very well, and there's no immediate prospect of
+the marriage of either of the girls with an Italian or an English
+adventurer; not even of Miss Murray with your humble servant."
+
+Rupert threw himself back into his chair again as if relieved, and a
+half-smile crossed his countenance.
+
+"How is Miss Murray?" he asked, rather maliciously.
+
+"Very well, as far as I know," said Percival, turning over a page and
+smoothing out the "Review" upon his knee. He read on for two or three
+minutes more, then suddenly tossed the book from him, gave it a
+contemptuous kick, and discovered that his cigar had gone out. He got
+up, walked to the mantelpiece, found a match, and lighted it, and then
+said, deliberately--
+
+"They've done a devilish imprudent thing out there."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Hired a fellow as tutor to the boys without references or
+recommendations, solely because he was good-looking, as far as I can
+make out."
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"My father."
+
+"Did he do it?"
+
+"He and Elizabeth between them. Kitty sings his praises in every letter.
+He teaches the girls Italian."
+
+Rupert said nothing.
+
+"So I am going to Italy chiefly to see what the fellow is like. I can't
+make out whether he is young or old. Kitty calls him divinely handsome;
+and my father speaks of his grey hairs."
+
+"And Miss Murray?"
+
+"Miss Murray," said Percival, rather slowly, "doesn't speak of him at
+all." Then, he added, in quicker tones--"Doubtless he isn't worth her
+notice. Elizabeth can be a very grand lady when she likes. Upon my word,
+Vivian, there are times when I wonder that she ever deigned to bestow a
+word or look even upon me!"
+
+"You are modest," said Rupert, drily.
+
+"Modesty's my foible; it always was. So, Hey for the sunny South, as I
+said before.
+
+    'O, swallow, swallow, flying, flying South,
+    Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
+    And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.'
+
+Any message for the swallow, sir?" touching an imaginary cap. "Shall I
+say that 'Dark and true and tender is the North,' and 'Fierce and false
+and fickle is the South,' or any similar statement?"
+
+"I have no message," said Rupert.
+
+"So be it. Do you know anything of young Luttrell--Hugo
+Luttrell--by-the-bye?"
+
+"Very little. My sister is interested in him."
+
+"He is going to the bad at an uncommonly swift pace--that is all."
+
+"Old Mrs. Luttrell talks of making him her heir," said Vivian. "She
+asked him down last winter but he wouldn't go."
+
+"I don't wonder at it. She must be a very tough old lady if she thinks
+that he could shoot there with much pleasure after his cousin's
+accident."
+
+"I don't suppose that Mrs. Luttrell asked him with any such notion,"
+returned Rupert. "She merely wanted him to spend a few days with her at
+Netherglen."
+
+"Has she much to leave? I thought the estates were entailed," said
+Percival.
+
+"She has a rather large private fortune. I expected to find that you
+knew all about it," said Rupert, with a smile.
+
+"It's the last thing that I should concern myself about," said Percival,
+superbly. And Vivian was almost sorry that he had made the remark, for
+it overset all the remains of his friend's good temper, and brought into
+ugly prominence the upright, black mark upon his forehead caused by his
+too frequent frown.
+
+Matters were not mended when Rupert asked, by way of changing the
+conversation, whether Percival's marriage were to take place on Miss
+Murray's return to England.
+
+"Marriage? No! What are you thinking of?" said he, starting up
+impatiently. "Don't you know that our engagement--such, as it is--is a
+profound secret from the world in general? You are nearly the only
+person who knows anything about it outside our own family; and even
+there it isn't talked about. Marriage! I only wish there was a chance of
+it. But she is in no hurry to give up her liberty; and I can't press
+her."
+
+And then he took his departure, with an injured feeling that Rupert had
+not been very sympathetic.
+
+"I've a good mind to offer to go with him," said Mr. Vivian to himself
+when his friend was gone. "I should like to see them all again; I should
+like to enjoy the Italian sunshine and the fresh, sweet air with Kitty,
+and hear her innocent little comments on the remains of mediaeval art
+that her father is sure to be raving about. But it is better not. I
+might forget myself some day. I might say what could not be unsaid. And
+then, poor, little Kitty, it would be hard both for you and for me. No,
+I won't go. Stay in Italy and get married, Kitty: that is the best thing
+for us both. You will have forgotten your old friend by the time you
+come back to London; and I shall drag on at the old round, with the same
+weary, clanking chain at my heels which nobody suspects. Good God!"
+cried Rupert, with a sudden burst of passion which would have startled
+the friends who had seen in him nothing but the perfectly
+self-possessed, cold-natured, well-mannered man of the world, "what a
+fool a man can make of himself in his youth, and repent it all his life
+afterwards in sackcloth and ashes--yet repent it in vain--in vain!"
+
+Percival Heron did not choose to announce his coming to his friends. He
+travelled furiously, as it was his fashion to travel when he went
+abroad, and arrived at the little village, on the outskirts of which
+stood the Villa Venturi, so late in the evening that he preferred to
+take a bed at the inn, and sup there, rather than disturb his own people
+until morning. He enjoyed the night at the inn. It was a place much
+frequented by fishermen, who came to fill their bottles before going out
+at night, or to talk over the events of the previous day's fishing.
+There was a garden behind the house--a garden full of orange and I lemon
+trees--from which sweet breaths of fragrance were wafted to the nostrils
+of the guests as they sat within the little hostelry. Percival could
+speak Italian well, and understood the _patois_ of the fishermen. He had
+a wonderful gift for languages; and it pleased him to sit up half the
+night, drinking the rough wine of the country, smoking innumerable
+cigarettes, and laughing heartily at the stories of the fisher-folk,
+until the simple-minded Italians were filled with admiration and
+astonishment at this _Inglese_ who was so much more like one of
+themselves than any of the _Inglesi_ that they had ever met.
+
+Owing to these late hours and the amount of talking, perhaps, that he
+had got through, Percival slept late next morning, and it was not until
+eleven o'clock that he started, regardless of the heat, for the Villa
+Venturi. He had not very far to go, and it was with a light heart that
+he strode along holding a great, white umbrella above his head, glancing
+keenly at the view of sea and land which made the glory of the place,
+turning up his nose fastidiously at the smells of the village, and
+wondering in his heart what induced his relations to stay so long out of
+London. He rang the bell at the gateway with great decision, and told
+the servant to inform Mr. Heron that "an English gentleman" wished to
+speak to him. He was ushered into a little ante-room, requested to wait
+there until Mr. Heron was found, and left alone.
+
+But he was not content to wait very patiently. He was sure that he heard
+voices in the next room. Being quite without the scruples which had made
+Stretton, not long before, refuse to push open a door one single inch in
+order to see what was not meant to meet his eyes, he calmly advanced to
+an archway screened by long and heavy curtains, parted them with his
+fingers, and looked in.
+
+It was an innocent scene, and a pretty scene enough, on which his eyes
+rested, and yet it was one that gave Percival little pleasure. The room
+was not very light, and such sunshine as entered it fell through the
+coloured panes of a stained-glass window high in the wall. At an old oak
+table, black and polished with age, sat two persons--a master and a
+pupil. They had one book between them, and the pupil was reading from
+it. Papers, dictionaries, and copybooks strewed the table; it was
+evident that other pupils had been there before, but that they had
+abandoned the scene. Percival set his teeth, and the brightness went out
+of his eyes. If only the pupil had not been Elizabeth!
+
+It was not that she showed any other feeling than that of interest in
+the book that she was reading. Her eyes were fixed upon the printed
+page; her lips opened only to pronounce slowly and carefully the
+unfamiliar syllables before her. The tutor was quiet, grave, reserved;
+but Percival noticed, quickly and jealously, that he once or twice
+raised his eyes as if to observe the expression of Elizabeth's fair
+face; and, free from all offence as that glance certainly was, it made a
+wild and unreasoning fury rise up in the lover's heart. He looked, he
+heard an interchange of quiet question and answer, he saw a smile on her
+face, a curiously wistful look on his; then came a scraping sound, as
+the chairs were pushed back over the marble floor, and master and pupil
+rose. The lesson was over. Percival dropped the curtain.
+
+He was so pale when Elizabeth came to him in the little ante-room that
+she was startled.
+
+"Are you not well, Percival?" she asked, as she laid her hand in his.
+She did not allow him to kiss her; she did not allow him to announce her
+engagement; and, as he stood looking down into her eyes, he felt that
+the present state of things was very unsatisfactory.
+
+"I shall be better if you administer the cure," he said. "Give me a
+kiss, Elizabeth; just one. Remember that I have not seen you for nearly
+eight months."
+
+"I thought we made a compact," she began, trying to withdraw her hand
+from his; but he interrupted her.
+
+"That I should not kiss you--often; not that I should never kiss you at
+all, Elizabeth. And as I have come all the way from England, and have
+not seen you for so long, you might as well show me whether you are glad
+or not."
+
+"I am very glad to see you," said Elizabeth, quietly.
+
+"Are you? Then kiss me, my darling,--only once!"
+
+He put one arm round her. His face was very near her own, and his breath
+came thick and fast, but he waited for her permission still. In his own
+heart he made this kiss the crucial test of her faithfulness to him. But
+Elizabeth drew herself away. It seemed as though she found his eagerness
+distasteful.
+
+"Then you don't care for me? You find that you don't love me!" said
+Percival, almost too sharply for a lover. "I may go back to England as
+soon as I like? I came only to see you. Tell me that my journey has been
+a useless one, and I'll go."
+
+She smiled as she looked at him. "You have not forgotten how to be
+tyrannical," she said. "I hardly knew you when I first came in, because
+you looked so quiet and gentle. Don't be foolish, Percival."
+
+"Oh, of course, it is folly for a man to love you," groaned Percival,
+releasing her hands and taking a step or two away from her. "You have
+mercy on every kind of folly but that. Well, I'll go back."
+
+"No, you will not," said Elizabeth, calmly. "You will stay here and
+enjoy yourself, and go for a sail in the boat with us this evening, and
+eat oranges fresh from the trees, and play with the children. We are all
+going to take holiday whilst you are here, and you must not disappoint
+us."
+
+"Then you must kiss me once, Elizabeth." But Percival's face was
+melting, and his voice had a half-laughing tone. "I must be bribed to do
+nothing."
+
+"Very well, you shall be bribed," she answered, but with a rather
+heightened colour upon her cheek. And then she lifted up her face; but,
+as Percival perceived with a vague feeling of irritation, she merely
+suffered him to kiss her, and did not kiss him in return.
+
+His next proceeding was to put his father through a searching catechism
+upon the antecedents and abilities of the tutor, Mr. John Stretton, who
+was by this time almost domiciled at the Villa Venturi. Mr. Heron's
+replies to his son's questions were so confused, and finished so
+invariably by a reference to Elizabeth, that Percival at last determined
+to see what he could extract from her. He waited for a day or two before
+opening the subject. He waited and watched. He certainly discovered
+nothing to justify the almost insane dislike and jealousy which he
+entertained with respect to Mr. Stretton; when he reasoned with himself
+he knew that he was prejudiced and unreasonable; but then he had a habit
+of considering that his prejudices should be attended to. He examined
+the children, hoping to find that the new tutor's scholarship might give
+him a loophole for criticism; but he could find nothing to blame. In
+fact, he was driven reluctantly to admit that the tutor's knowledge was
+far wider and deeper than his own, although Percival was really no mean
+classical scholar, and valued himself upon a thorough acquaintance with
+modern literature of every kind. He was foiled there, and was therefore
+driven back upon the subject of the tutor's antecedents.
+
+"Who is this man Stretton, Elizabeth?" he asked one day. "My father says
+you know all about him."
+
+"I?" said Elizabeth, opening her eyes. "I know nothing more than Uncle
+Alfred does."
+
+"Indeed. Then you engaged him with remarkably little prudence, as it
+appears to me."
+
+"Prudence is not quite the highest virtue in the world."
+
+"Now, my dear Queen Bess, as Jack calls you, don't be didactic. Where
+did you pick up this starveling tutor? Was he fainting by the roadside?"
+
+"Mr. Stretton teaches very well, and is much liked by the boys,
+Percival. You heard Aunt Isabel tell the story of his first meeting with
+Uncle Alfred."
+
+"Ah, yes; the rescue of the umbrella. Well, what else? Of course, he got
+somebody to introduce him in proper form after that?"
+
+"No," said Elizabeth.
+
+"No! Then you had friends in common? You knew his family?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how, in Heaven's name, Elizabeth, did he make good his footing
+here?"
+
+There was a silence. The two were sitting upon the low bench on the
+cliff. It was evening, and the sun was sinking to rest over the golden
+waters; the air was silent and serene, Percival had been smoking, but he
+flung his cigar away, and looked full into Elizabeth's face as he asked
+the question.
+
+She spoke at last, tranquilly as ever.
+
+"He was poor, Percival, and we wanted to help him. You and I are not
+likely to think the worse of a man for being poor, are we? He had been
+ill; he seemed to be in trouble, and we were sorry for him; and I do not
+think that my uncle made a mistake in taking him."
+
+"And I," said Percival, with an edge in his voice, "think that he made a
+very great mistake."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?" he repeated, with a short, savage laugh. "I shall not tell you
+why."
+
+"Do you know anything against Mr. Stretton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What, Percival?" Her tone was indignant; the colour was flaming in her
+cheeks.
+
+"I know that Stretton is not his name. My father told me so." There was
+a pause, and then Percival went on, in a low voice, but with a gathering
+intensity which made it more impressive than his louder tones. "I'll
+tell you what I should do if I were my father. I should say to this
+fellow--'Now, you may be in trouble through no fault of your own, but
+that is no matter to me. If you cannot bear your own name, you have no
+business to live in an honest man's house under false pretences; you
+may, therefore, either tell me your whole story, and let me judge
+whether it is a disgraceful one or not, or you may go--the quicker the
+better.' That's what I should say to Mr. Stretton; and the sooner it is
+said to him the more I shall be pleased."
+
+"Fortunately," said Elizabeth, "the decision does not rest in your
+hands." She rose, and drew herself to her full height; her cheeks were
+crimson, her eyes gleamed with indignation. "Mr. Stretton is a
+gentleman; as long as he is in my employment--mine, if you please; not
+yours, nor your father's, after all--he shall be treated as one. You
+could not have shown yourself more ungenerous, more poor-spirited,
+Percival, than by what you have said to-day."
+
+And then she walked with a firm, resolute step and head erect, towards
+the house. Percival did not attempt to follow her. He watched her until
+she was out of sight, then he re-seated himself, and sank into deep
+meditation. It was night before he roused himself, and struck a blow
+with his hand upon the arm of the seat, which sent the rotten woodwork
+flying, as he gave utterance to his conclusion.
+
+"I was right after all. My father will live to own it some day. He has
+made a devil of a mistake."
+
+Then he rose and took the path to the house. Before he entered it,
+however, he looked vengefully in the direction in which the twinkling
+lights of the little village inn could be seen.
+
+"If you have a secret," he said, slowly and resolutely, from between his
+clenched teeth, "I'll find it out. If you have a disgraceful story in
+your life, I'll unmask it. If you have another name you want to hide,
+I'll publish it to the world. So help me, God! Because you have come, or
+you are coming, between me and the woman that I love. And if I ever get
+a chance to do you a bad turn, Mr. John Stretton, I'll do it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE MISTRESS OF NETHERGLEN.
+
+
+"Shall I go, or shall I not go?" meditated Hugo Luttrell.
+
+He was lying on a broad, comfortable-looking lounge in one of the
+luxurious rooms which he usually occupied when he stayed for any length
+of time in London. He had been smoking a dainty, perfumed cigarette--he
+very seldom smoked anything except cigarettes--but he held it absently
+between his fingers, and finally let it drop, while he read and re-read
+a letter which his servant had just brought to him.
+
+Nearly two years had passed since Richard Luttrell's death; years which
+had left their mark upon Hugo in many ways. The lines of his delicately
+beautiful, dark face had grown harder and sharper; and, perhaps on this
+account, he had a distinctly older look than was warranted by his
+two-and-twenty years. There were worn lines about his eyes, and a
+decided increase of that subtlety of expression which gave something of
+an Oriental character to his appearance. He had lost the youthful,
+almost boyish, look which had characterised him two years ago; he was a
+man now, but hardly a man whom one would have found it easy to trust.
+
+The letter was from Angela Vivian. She had written, at Mrs. Luttrell's
+request, to ask Hugo to pay them a visit. Mrs. Luttrell still occupied
+the house at Netherglen, and she seemed anxious for an interview with
+her nephew. Hugo had not seen her for many months; he had left Scotland
+almost immediately after Brian's departure, with the full intention of
+setting foot in it no more. But he had then considered himself tolerably
+prosperous. Brian's death had thrown a shade over his prospects. He
+could no longer count upon a successful application to Mr. Colquhoun if
+he were in difficulties, and Brian's six thousand pounds melted before
+his requirements like snow before an April sun. He had already
+squandered the greater part of it; he was deeply in debt; and he had no
+relation upon whom he could rely for assistance--unless it were Mrs.
+Luttrell, and Hugo had a definite dislike to the thought of asking Mrs.
+Luttrell for money.
+
+It was no more than a dislike, however. It was an unpleasant thing to
+do, perhaps, but not a thing that he would refrain from doing, if
+necessary. Why should not Mrs. Luttrell be generous to her nephew?
+Possibly she wished to make him her heir; possibly she would offer to
+pay his debts; at any rate, he could not afford to decline her help. So
+he must start for Netherglen next day.
+
+"Netherglen! They are still there," he said to himself, as he stared
+moodily at the sheet of black-edged note-paper, on which the name of the
+house was stamped in small, black letters. "I wonder that they did not
+leave the place. I should have done so if I had been Aunt Margaret. I
+would give a great deal to get out of going to it myself!"
+
+A sombre look stole over his face; his hand clenched itself over the
+paper that he held; in spite of the luxurious warmth of the room, he
+gave a little shiver. Then he rose and bestirred himself; his nature was
+not one that impelled him to dwell for very long upon any painful or
+disturbing thought.
+
+He gave his orders about the journey for the following day, then dressed
+and went out, remembering that he had two or three engagements for the
+evening. The season was nearly over, and many people had left London,
+but there seemed little diminution in the number of guests who were
+struggling up and down the wide staircase of a house at which Hugo
+presented himself about twelve o'clock that night, and he missed very
+few familiar faces amongst the crowd as he nodded greetings to his
+numerous acquaintances.
+
+"Ah, Luttrell," said a voice at his ear, "I was wondering if I should
+see you. I thought you might be off to Scotland already."
+
+"Who told you I was going to Scotland?" said Hugo.
+
+The dark shadow had crossed his face again; if there was a man in
+England whom at that time he cordially disliked, it was this
+man--Angela's brother--Rupert Vivian. He did not know why, but he always
+had a presage of disaster when he saw that high-bred, impassive face
+beside him, or heard the modulation of Vivian's quiet, musical voice.
+Hugo was superstitious, and he firmly believed that Rupert Vivian's
+presence brought him ill luck.
+
+"Angela wrote to me that Mrs. Luttrell was inviting you to Netherglen. I
+was going there myself, but I have been prevented. A relation of mine in
+Wales is dying, and has sent for me, so I may not be able to get to
+Scotland for some weeks."
+
+"Sorry not to see you. I shall be gone by the time you reach Scotland,
+then," responded Hugo, amiably.
+
+"Yes." Rupert looked down with a reflective air. "Come here, will you?"
+he said, drawing Hugo aside into a small curtained recess, with a seat
+just wide enough for two, which happened at that moment to be empty. "I
+have something to ask you; there is something that you can do for me if
+you will."
+
+"Happy to do anything in my power," murmured Hugo. He did not like to be
+asked to help other people, but there was a want of assurance in
+Vivian's usually self-contained demeanour which roused his curiosity.
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well, to begin with, you know the Herons and Miss Murray, do you not?"
+
+"I know them by name. I have met Percival Heron sometimes."
+
+"Do you know that they have returned rather unexpectedly from Italy and
+gone to Strathleckie, the house on the other side of the property--about
+six miles from Netherglen?"
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"I suppose that Miss Murray thinks she may as well take possession of
+her estate," replied Rupert, rather shortly. "May I ask whether you are
+going to call?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall certainly call."
+
+"Then, look here, Luttrell, I want you to do something for me," said
+Vivian, falling into a more friendly and confidential strain than he
+usually employed with Hugo. "Will you mention--in an incidental sort of
+way--to Mrs. Heron the reason why I have not come to Scotland--the claim
+that my relation in Wales has on me, and all that sort of thing? It is
+hardly worth while writing about it, perhaps; still, if it came in your
+way, you might do me a service."
+
+Hugo was so much relieved to find nothing more difficult required of him
+that he gave vent to a light laugh.
+
+"Why don't you write?" he said.
+
+"There's nothing to write about. I do not correspond with them," said
+Rupert, actually colouring a little beneath Hugo's long, satirical gaze.
+"But I fancy they may think me neglectful. I promised some time ago that
+I would run down; and I don't see how I can--until November, at the
+earliest. And, if you are there, you may as well mention the reason for
+my going to Wales, or, you see, it will look like a positive slight."
+
+"I'm to say all this to Mrs. Heron, am I? And to no one beside?"
+
+"That will be quite sufficient." There was a slight touch of hauteur in
+Vivian's tone. "And, if I may trouble you with something else----"
+
+"No trouble at all. Another message?"
+
+"Not exactly. If you would take care of this little packet for me I
+should be glad. I am afraid of its being crushed or lost in the post. It
+is for Miss Heron."
+
+He produced a little parcel, carefully sealed and addressed. It looked
+like a small, square box. Hugo smiled as he took it in his hand.
+
+"Perishable?" he asked, carelessly.
+
+"Not exactly. The contents are fully a hundred years old already. It is
+something for Miss Heron's birthday. She is a great favourite of mine--a
+nice little girl."
+
+"Quite a child, I suppose?"
+
+"Oh, of course. One won't be able to send her presents by-and-bye," said
+Rupert, with rather an uneasy laugh. "What a pity it is that some
+children ever grow up! Well, thanks, Hugo; I shall be very much obliged
+to you. Are you going now?"
+
+"Must be moving on, I suppose. I saw old Colquhoun the other day and he
+began telling me about Miss Murray, and all the wonders she was doing
+for the Herons. Makes believe that the money is theirs, not her own,
+doesn't she?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Odd idea. She must be a curiosity. They brought a tutor with them from
+Italy, I believe; some fellow they picked up in the streets."
+
+"He has turned out a very satisfactory one," Rupert answered, coldly.
+"They say that he makes a capital tutor for the little boys. I think he
+is a favourite with all of them; he teaches Miss Heron Italian."
+
+His voice had taken a curiously formal tone. It sounded as though he was
+displeased at something which had occurred to him.
+
+Hugo thought of that tone and of the conversation many times before he
+left London next evening. He was rather an adept at the discovery of
+small mysteries; he liked to draw conclusions from a series of small
+events, and to ferret out other people's secrets. He thought that he was
+now upon the track of some design of Vivian's, and he became exceedingly
+curious about it. If it had been possible to open the box without
+disturbing the seals upon it, he would certainly have done so; but, this
+being out of the question, he contented himself with resolving to be
+present when it was opened, and to observe with care the effect produced
+by Vivian's message on the faces of Mrs. Heron, Miss Heron, and Miss
+Murray.
+
+He reached Dunmuir (where the nearest station to his aunt's house was
+situated) at eleven o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Luttrell had sent the
+mail-phaeton for him. As Hugo took the reins and glanced at the shining
+harness and the lustrous coats of the beautiful bays, he could not help
+remembering the day when the mail-phaeton had last been sent to bring
+him from the station. Richard had then sat in the place that he now
+occupied, with Angela beside him; and Brian and Hugo laughed and talked
+in the back seat, and were as merry as they well could be. Nearly two
+years ago! What changes had been seen since then.
+
+The bays were fidgetty and would not start at once. Hugo was just
+shouting a hasty direction to the groom at their heads when he happened
+to glance aside towards the station door where two or three persons were
+standing. The groom had cause to wonder what was the matter. Hugo gave
+the reins a tremendous jerk, which brought the horses nearly upon their
+haunches, and then let them go at such a pace that it seemed as if he
+had entirely lost control over them. But he was a very good whip, and
+soon mastered the fiery creatures, reducing their mad speed by degrees
+to a gentle trot, which enabled the groom to overtake them, panting and
+red in the face, indeed, as he swung himself up behind. The groom was
+inclined to think that Mr. Hugo had lost his nerve for a few moments;
+for "his face turned as white," honest John remarked afterwards, "as if
+he had seen a ghost."
+
+"John," said Hugo, after driving for a good two miles in silence, "who
+was that gentleman at the station door?"
+
+"Gentleman, sir?"
+
+"A young man--at least, he seemed young--in a great-coat."
+
+"Oh!--I don't think that's a young gentleman, exactly; least-ways he's
+got grey hair. That's the gentleman that teaches at Mr. Heron's, sir;
+Mr. Heron, the uncle to Miss Murray that has the property now. His
+name's Mr. Stretton, sir. I asked Mr. Heron's coachman."
+
+"What made you ask?"
+
+The groom hesitated and shuffled; but, upon being kept sharply to the
+point, avowed that it was because the gentleman "seen from behind"
+looked so much like Mr. Brian Luttrell. "Of course, his face is quite
+different from Mr. Brian's, sir," he said, hastily, noting a shadow upon
+Hugo's brow; "and he has grey hair and a beard, and all that; but his
+walk was a little like poor Mr. Brian's, sir, I thought."
+
+Hugo was silent. He had not noticed the man's gait, but, in spite of the
+grey hair, the tanned complexion, the brown beard--which had lately been
+allowed to cover the lower part of Mr. Stretton's face, and had changed
+it very greatly--in spite of all these things he had noticed, and been
+startled by, the expression of a pair of grave, brown eyes--graver and
+sadder than Brian's eyes used to be, but full of the tenderness and the
+sweetness that Hugo had never seen in the face of any other man. Full,
+also, of recognition; there was the rub. A man who knows you cannot look
+at you in the same way as one who knows you not, and it was this look of
+knowledge which had unnerved Hugo, and make him doubt the evidence of
+his own senses.
+
+He was still silent and absorbed when he arrived at Netherglen, and felt
+glad to hear that he was not to see his aunt until later in the day.
+Angela came to meet him at the door; she was pale, and her black dress
+made her look very slender and fragile, but she had the old, sweet smile
+and pleasant words of welcome for him, and could not understand why his
+face was so gloomy, and his eyes so obstinately averted from her own.
+
+It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Hugo was admitted to Mrs.
+Luttrell's sitting-room. He had scarcely seen her since the death of her
+eldest son, and was manifestly startled and shocked to see her looking
+so much more aged and worn than she had been two years ago. She greeted
+him much after her usual fashion, however; she allowed him to touch her
+smooth, cold cheek with his lips, and take her stiff hand into his own,
+but she showed no trace of any softening emotion.
+
+"Sit down, Hugo," she said. "I am sorry to have brought you away from
+your friends."
+
+"Oh, I was glad to come," said Hugo, confusedly. "I was not with
+friends; I was in town. It was late for town, but I--I had business."
+
+"This house is no longer a cheerful one," continued Mrs. Luttrell, in a
+cold, monotonous voice. "There are no attractions for young men now. It
+has been a house of mourning. I could not expect you to visit me."
+
+"Indeed, Aunt Margaret, I would have come if I had known that you wanted
+me," said Hugo, wondering whether his tardiness would entail the loss of
+Mrs. Luttrell's money.
+
+He recovered his self-possession and his fluency at this thought; if
+danger were near, it behoved him to be on the alert.
+
+"I have wanted you," said Mrs. Luttrell. "But I could wait. I knew that
+you would come in time. Now, listen to what I have to say."
+
+Hugo held his breath. What could she say that needed all this preamble?
+
+"Hugo Luttrell," his aunt began, very deliberately, "you are a poor man
+and an extravagant one."
+
+Hugo smiled, and bowed his head.
+
+"But you are only extravagant. You are not vicious. You have never done
+a dishonourable thing--one for which you need blush or fear to meet the
+eye of an honest man? Answer me that, Hugo. I may know what you will
+say, but I want to hear it from your own lips."
+
+Hugo did not flinch. His face assumed the boyish innocence of expression
+which had often stood him in good stead. His great, dark eyes looked
+boldly into hers.
+
+"That is all true, Aunt Margaret. I may have done foolish things, but
+nothing worse. I have been extravagant, as you say, but I have not been
+dishonourable."
+
+He could not have dared to say so much if Richard or Brian had been
+alive to contradict him; but they were safely out of the way and he
+could say what he chose.
+
+"Then I can trust you, Hugo."
+
+"I will try to be worthy of your trust, Aunt Margaret."
+
+He bent down to kiss her hand in his graceful, foreign fashion; but she
+drew it somewhat hastily away.
+
+"No. None of your Sicilian ways for me, Hugo. That foreign drop in your
+blood is just what I hate. But you're the only Luttrell left; and I hope
+I know my duty. I want to have a talk with you about the house, and the
+property, and so on."
+
+"I shall be glad if I can do anything to help you," said Hugo, smoothly.
+His cheek was beginning to flush; he wished that his aunt would come to
+the point. Suspense was very trying! But Mrs. Luttrell seemed to be in
+no hurry.
+
+"You know, perhaps," she said, "that I am a tolerably rich woman still.
+The land, the farms, and the moors, and all that part of the property
+passed to Miss Murray upon my sons' deaths; but this house and the
+grounds (though not the loch nor the woods) are still mine, and I have a
+fair income with which to keep them up. I should like to know that one
+of my husband's name was to come after me. I should like to know that
+there would be Luttrells of Netherglen for many years to come."
+
+She paused a few minutes, but Hugo made no reply.
+
+"I have a proposition to make to you," she went on presently. "I don't
+make it without conditions. You shall hear what they are by-and-bye. I
+should like to make you my heir. I can leave my money and my house to
+anyone I choose. I have about fifteen-hundred a-year, and then there's
+the house and the garden. Should you think it worth having?"
+
+"I think," said Hugo, with a wily avoidance of any direct answer, "that
+it is very painful to hear you talk of leaving your property to anyone."
+
+"That is mere sentimental nonsense," replied his aunt, with a
+perceptible increase in the coldness of her manner. "The question is,
+will you agree to the conditions on which I leave my money to you?"
+
+"I will do anything in my power," murmured Hugo.
+
+"I want you, then, to arrange to spend at least half the year with me
+here. You can leave the army; I do not think that it is a profession
+that suits you. Live here, and fill the place of a son to me. I have no
+sons left. Be as like one of them as it is in your power to be."
+
+In spite of himself Hugo's face fell. Leave the army, leave England,
+bury himself for half the year with an old woman in a secluded spot,
+which, although beautiful in summer and autumn, was unspeakably dreary
+in winter? She had not required so much of Richard or Brian; why should
+she ask for such a sacrifice from him?
+
+Mrs. Luttrell watched his face, and read pretty clearly the meaning of
+the various expressions which chased each other across it.
+
+"It seems a hard thing to you at first, no doubt," she said, composedly.
+"But you would find interests and amusements in course of time. You
+would have six months of the year in which to go abroad, or to divert
+yourself in London. You should have a sufficient income. And my other
+condition is that you marry as soon as you can find a suitable wife."
+
+"Marry?" said Hugo, in dismay. "I never thought of marriage!" |
+
+"You will think of it some time, I presume. An early marriage is good
+for young men. I should like to see you married, and have your children
+growing up about me."
+
+"Perhaps you have thought of a suitable lady?" said Hugo, with a
+half-sneer. The prospect that had seemed so desirable at first was now
+very much lowered in his estimation, and he did not disguise the sullen
+anger that he felt. But he hardly expected Mrs. Luttrell's answer.
+
+"Yes, I have."
+
+"Indeed! Who is it?"
+
+"Miss Murray. Elizabeth Murray, to whom your cousins' estates have
+gone."
+
+"What sort of a person is she?"
+
+"Young, beautiful, rich. A little older than yourself, but not much. You
+would make a fine couple, Hugo. She came to see me the other day, and
+you would have thought she was a princess."
+
+"I should like to see her," said Hugo, thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, you must just go and call. And then you can think the matter over
+and let me know. I'm in no hurry for a decision."
+
+"You are very good, Aunt Margaret."
+
+"No. I am only endeavouring to be just. I should like to see you
+prosperous and happy. And, while you are here, you will oblige me by
+considering yourself the master of the house, Hugo. Give your own
+orders, and invite your own friends."
+
+Hugo murmured some slight objection.
+
+"It will not affect my comfort in the least. I kept some of the horses,
+and one or two vehicles that I thought you would like. Use them all. You
+will not expect to see very much of me; I seldom come downstairs, so the
+house will be free for you and your friends. When you have decided what
+you mean to do, let me know."
+
+Hugo thanked her and retired. He did not see her again until the
+following evening, when she met him with a question.
+
+"Have you seen Miss Murray yet?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo, lowering his eyes.
+
+"And have you come to any decision?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I should like to know what it is," said Mrs. Luttrell.
+
+Her hands, which were crossed before her on her knee, trembled a little
+as she said the words.
+
+Hugo hesitated for a moment.
+
+"I have made my decision," he said at last, in a firm voice, "and it is
+one that I know I shall never have cause to repent. Aunt Margaret, I
+accept your kind--your generous--offer, and I will be to you as a son."
+
+He had prepared his little speech so carefully that it scarcely sounded
+artificial when it issued from those curved, beautiful lips, and was
+emphasised by the liquid softness of his Southern eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A LOST LETTER.
+
+
+Hugo's visit to the Herons was paid rather late in the afternoon, and
+he, therefore, had the full benefit of the whole family party, as each
+member of it dropped in to tea. Mrs. Heron's old habits still
+re-asserted themselves, in spite of the slight check imposed on her by
+the remembrance that the house belonged to Elizabeth, that the many new
+luxuries and comforts, including freedom from debt, had come from
+Elizabeth's purse, and that Elizabeth, although she chose to abdicate
+her power, was really the sovereign of Strathleckie. But Elizabeth
+arrogated so little to herself, and was so wonderfully content to be
+second in the house, that Mrs. Heron was apt to forget the facts of the
+case, and to act as if she were mistress as much as she had ever been in
+the untidy dwelling in Gower-street.
+
+As regarded the matter of tidiness, Elizabeth had made reforms. There
+were now many more servants than there had been in Gower-street, and the
+drawing-room could not present quite the same look of chaos as had
+formerly prevailed there. But Elizabeth knew the ways of the household
+too well to expect that Mr. Heron's paint-brushes, Mrs. Heron's novels,
+and the children's toys would not be found in every quarter of the
+house; it was as much as she could do to select rooms that were intended
+to fill the purposes of studio, boudoir, and nursery; she could not make
+her relations confine themselves and their occupations to their
+respective apartments.
+
+She had had a great struggle with her uncle before the present state of
+affairs came about. He had roused himself sufficiently to protest
+against making use of her money and not giving her, as he said, her
+proper position; but Elizabeth's determined will overcame all his
+objections. "I never wanted this money," she said to him; "I think it a
+burden. The only way in which I can enjoy it is by making life a little
+easier to other people. And you have the first claim--you and my
+cousins; because you took me in and were good to me when I was a little,
+friendless orphan of twelve years old. So, now that I have the chance,
+you must come and stay with me in my house and keep me from feeling
+lonely, and then I shall be able to think that my wealth is doing good
+to somebody beside myself. You make me feel as if I were a stranger, and
+not one of yourselves, when you object to my doing things for you. Would
+you mind taking gifts from Kitty? And am I so much less dear to you than
+Kitty? You used to tell me that I was like a daughter to you. Let me be
+your daughter still."
+
+Mr. Heron found it difficult to make protests in the face of these
+arguments; and Mrs. Heron slid gracefully into the arrangement without
+any protest at all. Kitty's objections were easily overcome; and the
+children thought it perfectly natural that their cousin should share her
+good gifts with them, in the same way that, when she was younger, she
+divided with them the toys and sweeties that kind friends bestowed upon
+her.
+
+Therefore, when Hugo called at Strathleckie, he was struck with the fact
+that it was Mrs. Heron, and not Elizabeth, who acted as his hostess. It
+needed all his knowledge of the circumstances and history of the family
+to convince himself that the house did not belong to Alfred Heron, the
+artist, and that the stately girl in a plain, black dress, who poured
+out the tea, was the real mistress of the house. She acted very much as
+though she were a dependent, or at most an elder daughter, in the same
+position as little Kitty, who assumed no airs of authority over anybody
+or anything.
+
+Hugo admired Elizabeth, as he admired beautiful women everywhere; but he
+was not interested in her. Mentally he called her fool for not adopting
+her right station and spending her money in her own way. She was too
+grave for him. He was more at his ease with Kitty.
+
+Rupert Vivian's message--if it could be called a message--was given
+lightly and carelessly enough, but Hugo had the satisfaction of seeing
+the colour flash all over Miss Heron's little _mignonne_ face as he
+listened to Mrs. Heron's languid reply.
+
+"Dear me! and is that old relative in Wales really dying? Mr. Vivian has
+always made periodical excursions into Wales ever since I knew him.
+Well, I wondered why he did not write to say that he was coming. It was
+an understood thing that he should stay with us as soon as we returned
+from Italy, and I was surprised to hear nothing from him. Were not you,
+Kitty?"
+
+"No, I was not at all surprised," said Kitty, rather sharply.
+
+"I had a commission to execute for my friend," said Hugo, turning a
+little towards her. "Mr. Vivian asked me to take charge of a parcel, and
+to place it in your own hands; he was afraid that it would be broken if
+it went by post. He told me that it was a little birthday remembrance."
+
+He laid the parcel on a table beside the girl. He noticed that her
+colour varied, but that she did not speak. Mrs. Heron's voice filled the
+pause.
+
+"How kind of you to bring it, Mr. Luttrell! Mr. Vivian always remembers
+our birthdays; especially Kitty's. Does he not, Kitty?"
+
+"Not mine especially," said Kitty, frowning. She looked at the box as if
+she did not care to open it.
+
+"Do let us see what it is," pursued Mrs. Heron. "Mr. Vivian has such
+exquisite taste! Shall we open the box, Kitty?"
+
+"If you like," returned Kitty. "Here is a pair of scissors."
+
+"Oh, we could not think of opening your box for you; open it yourself,
+dear. Make haste; we are all quite curious, are we not, Mr. Luttrell?"
+
+Mr. Luttrell smiled a little, and toyed with his tea-spoon; his eyes
+were fixed questioningly on Kitty's mutinous face, with its
+down-dropped, curling lashes and pouting rose-leaf lips. He felt more
+curiosity respecting the contents of that little box than he cared to
+show.
+
+She opened it at last, slowly and reluctantly, as it seemed to him, and
+took out of a nest of pink cotton-wool a string of filagree silver
+beads. They were very delicately worked, and there was some ground for
+Vivian's fear that they might get injured in the post, for their beauty
+was very great. Mrs. Heron went into ecstasies over the gift. It was
+accompanied merely by a card, on which a few words were written: "For
+Miss Heron's birthday, with compliments and good wishes from Rupert
+Vivian." Kitty read the inscription; her lip curled, but she still kept
+silence. Hugo thought that her eye rested with some complacency upon the
+silver beads; but she did not express a tithe of the pleasure and
+surprise which flowed so readily from Mrs. Heron's fluent tongue.
+
+"Don't you like them, Kitty?" asked an inconvenient younger brother who
+had entered the room.
+
+"They are very pretty," said Kitty.
+
+"Not so pretty as the ornament he sent you last year," said Harry. "But
+it's very jolly of him to send such nice things every birthday, ain't
+it?"
+
+"Yes, he is very kind," Kitty answered, with a shy sort of stiffness,
+which seemed to show that she could well dispense with his kindness.
+Hugo laughed to himself, and pictured Vivian's discomfiture if he had
+seen the reception of his present. He changed the subject.
+
+"Have you been long in Scotland, Miss Murray?"
+
+"For a fortnight only. We came rather suddenly, hearing that the tenant
+had left this house. We expected him to stay for some time longer."
+
+"It is fortunate for us that Strathleckie happened to fall vacant," said
+Hugo, gravely.
+
+"Do you know, Betty," said one of the boys at that moment, "that Mr.
+Stretton says he has been in Scotland before, and knows this part of the
+country very well?"
+
+"Yes, he told me so."
+
+"Mr. Stretton is our tutor," said Harry, kindly explaining his remark to
+the visitor. "He only came yesterday morning. He had a holiday when we
+came here; and so had we."
+
+"I presume that you like holidays," said Hugo, caressing the silky
+moustache that was just covering his upper lip, and smiling at the
+child, with a notion that he was making himself pleasant to the ladies
+of the party by doing so.
+
+"I liked holidays before Mr. Stretton came to us," said Harry. "But I
+don't mind lessons half so much now. He teaches in such a jolly sort of
+way."
+
+"Mr. Stretton is a favourite," remarked Hugo, looking at the mother.
+
+"Such a clever man!" sighed Mrs. Heron. "So kind to the children! We met
+him in Italy."
+
+"I think I saw him at the station yesterday. He has grey hair?"
+
+"Yes, but he's quite young," interposed Harry, indignantly. "He isn't
+thirty; I asked him. He had a brain fever, and it turned his hair grey;
+he told me so."
+
+"It has a very striking effect," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "He has a
+fine face--my husband says a beautiful face--and framed in that grey
+hair----I wish you could see him, Mr. Luttrell, but he is so shy that it
+seems impossible to drag him out of his own particular den."
+
+"So very shy, is he?" thought Hugo to himself. "I wonder where I have
+seen him. I am sure I have seen him before, and I am sure that he knew
+me. Well, I must wait. I suppose I shall meet him again in the course of
+time."
+
+He took his leave, remembering that he had already out-stayed the
+conventional limits of a call; and he was pleased when Mrs. Heron showed
+some warmth of interest in his future movements, and expressed a wish to
+see him again very soon. Her words showed either ignorance or languid
+neglect of the usages of society, but they did not offend him. He wanted
+to come again. He wanted to see more of Kitty.
+
+He had ridden from Strathleckie to Netherglen, and he paced his horse
+slowly along the solitary road which he had to traverse on his way
+homewards. The beautiful autumn tints and the golden haze that filled
+the air had no attractions for him. But it was pleasant to him to be
+away from Mrs. Luttrell; and he wanted a little space of time in which
+to meditate upon his future course of action. He had seen the woman whom
+his aunt wished him to marry. Well, she was handsome enough; she was
+rich; she would look well at the head of his table, ruling over his
+household, managing his affairs and her own. But he would rather that it
+had been Kitty.
+
+At this point he brought his horse to a sudden standstill. Before him,
+leaning over a gate with his back to the road, he saw a man whom he
+recognised at once. It was Mr. Stretton, the tutor. He had taken off his
+hat, and his grey hair looked very remarkable upon his youthful figure.
+Hugo walked his horse slowly forward, but the beat of the animal's feet
+on the hard road aroused the tutor from his reverie. He glanced round,
+saw Hugo approaching, and then, without haste, but without hesitation,
+quietly opened the gate, and made his way into the field.
+
+Hugo stopped again, and watched him as he crossed the field. He was very
+curious concerning this stranger. He felt as if he ought to recognise
+him, and he could not imagine why.
+
+Mr. Stretton was almost out of sight, and Hugo was just turning away,
+when his eye fell upon a piece of white paper on the ground beside the
+gate. It looked like a letter. Had the tutor dropped it as he loitered
+in the road? Hugo was off his horse instantly, and had the paper in his
+hand. It was a letter written on thin, foreign paper, in a small, neat,
+foreign hand; it was addressed to Mr. John Stretton, and it was written
+in Italian.
+
+To Hugo, Italian was as familiar as English, and a momentary glance
+showed him that this letter contained information that might be valuable
+to him. He could not read it on the road; the owner of the letter might
+discover his loss and turn back at any moment to look for it. He put it
+carefully into his pocket, mounted his horse again, and made the best of
+his way to Netherglen.
+
+He was so late in arriving that he had little time to devote to the
+letter before dinner. But when Mrs. Luttrell had kissed him and said
+good-night, when he, with filial courtesy, had conducted her to the door
+of her bed-room, and taken his final leave of her and of Angela on the
+landing, then he made his way to the library, rang for more lights, more
+coal, spirits and hot water, and prepared to devote a little time to the
+deciphering of the letter which Mr. John Stretton had been careless
+enough to lose.
+
+He was not fond of the library. It was next to the room in which they
+had laid Richard Luttrell when they brought him home after the
+"accident." It looked out on the same stretch of garden; the rose trees
+that had tapped mournfully at that other window, when Hugo was compelled
+by Brian to pay a last visit to the room where the dead man lay, had
+sent out long shoots that reached the panes of the library window, too.
+When there was any breeze, those branches would go on tap, tapping
+against the glass like the sound of a human hand. Hugo hated the noise
+of that ghostly tapping: he hated the room itself, and the long, dark
+corridor upon which it opened, but it was the most convenient place in
+the house for his purpose, and he therefore made use of it.
+
+"San Stefano!" he murmured to himself, as he looked at the name of the
+place from which the letter had been dated. "Why, I have heard my uncle
+mention San Stefano as the place where Brian was born. They lived there
+for some months. My aunt had an illness there, which nobody ever liked
+to talk about. Hum! What connection has Mr. John Stretton with San
+Stefano, I wonder? Let me see."
+
+He spread the letter carefully out before him, turned up the lamp, and
+began to read. As he read, his face turned somewhat pale; he read
+certain passages twice, and then remained for a time in the same
+position, with his elbows upon the table and his face supported between
+his hands. He found matter for thought in that letter.
+
+It ran as follows:--
+
+"My Dear Mr. Stretton,--I will continue to address you by this name as
+you desire me to do, although I am at a loss to understand your motive
+in assuming it. You will excuse my making this remark; the confidence
+that you have hitherto reposed in me leads me to utter a criticism which
+might otherwise be deemed an impertinence. But it seems to me a pity
+that you either did not retain your old name and the advantages that
+this name placed in your way, or that you did not take up the
+appellation which, as I fear I must repeat, is the only one to which you
+have any legal right. If your name is not Luttrell, it is Vasari. If you
+object to retaining the name of Luttrell, why not adopt Vasari? Why
+complicate matters by taking a name (like that of Stretton) which has no
+meaning, no importance, no distinction? All unnecessary concealment of
+truth is foolish; and this is an unnecessary concealment.
+
+"Secondly, may I ask why you propose to accompany your English friends
+to a place so near your old home? If you wish it to be thought that you
+are dead, why, in Heaven's name, do you go to a spot which is not ten
+miles from the house where you were brought up? True, your appearance is
+altered; your hair is grey and your beard has grown. But your voice:
+have you thought how easily your voice may betray you? And I have known
+cases where the eyes alone have revealed a person's identity. If you
+wish to keep your secret, let me entreat you not to go to Strathleckie.
+If you wish to undo all that you have succeeded in doing, if you wish to
+deprive the lady who has inherited the Strathleckie property of her
+inheritance, then, indeed, you will go to Scotland, but in so doing you
+show a want of judgment and resolution which I cannot understand.
+
+"You were at the monastery with us after your illness for many months.
+We learned to know you well and to regard you with affection. We were
+sorry when you grew restless and wandered away from us to seek fresh
+work amongst English people--English and Protestant--for the sake of old
+associations and habit. But we did not think--or at least I did not
+think--that you were so illogical and so weak as your present conduct
+drives me to consider you.
+
+"There is only one explanation possible. You risk discovery, you follow
+these people to Scotland because one of the ladies of the family has
+given you, or you hope that she will give you, some special marks of
+favour. In plain words, you are in love. I have partially gathered that
+from your letters. Perhaps she also is in love with you. There is a Miss
+Heron, who is said to be beautiful; there is also Miss Murray. Is it on
+account of either of these ladies that you have returned to Scotland?
+
+"I speak very frankly, because I conceive that I have a certain claim
+upon your confidence. I do not merely allude to the kindness shown to
+you by the Brothers of San Stefano, which probably saved your life. I
+claim your regard because I know that you were born in this village,
+baptised by one of ourselves, that you are of Italian parentage, and
+that you have never had any right to the name that you have borne for
+four-and-twenty years. This was suspicion when I saw you last; it is
+certainty now. We have found the woman Vincenza, who is your mother. She
+has told us her story, and it is one which even your English courts of
+law will find it difficult to disprove. She acknowledges that she
+changed the two children; that, when one of her twins died, she thought
+that she could benefit the other by putting it in the place of the
+English child. Her own baby, Bernardino, was brought up by the Luttrell
+family and called Brian Luttrell. That was yourself.
+
+"How about the English boy, the real heir to the property? I told you
+about him when you were with us; I offered to let you see him: I wanted
+you to know him. You declined; I think you were wrong. You did see him
+many a time; you were friendly with him, although you did not know the
+connection that existed between you. I believe that you will remember
+him when I tell you that he was known in the monastery as Brother Dino.
+Dino Vasari was the name by which he had been known; but I think that
+you never learnt his surname. He had a romantic affection for you, and
+was grieved when you refused to meet the man who had so curious a claim
+upon your notice. I sent him away from the monastery in a few days, as
+you will perhaps remember; I knew that if he saw much of you, not even
+my authority, my influence, would induce him to keep the secret of his
+birth--from you. You are rivals, certainly; you might be enemies; and,
+just because that cause of rivalry and enmity subsists, Dino Vasari
+loves you with his whole soul. If you stood in your old position, even I
+could not persuade him to dispossess you; but you have voluntarily given
+it up. Your property has gone to your cousin, and Dino has now no
+scruple about claiming his rights. Now that Vincenza Vasari's evidence
+has been obtained, it is thought well that he should make the story
+public, and try to get his position acknowledged. Therefore he is
+starting for England, where he will arrive on the eighteenth of the
+month. He has his orders, and he will obey them. It is perhaps well that
+you should know what they are. He is to proceed at once to Scotland, and
+obtain interviews as soon as possible with Mr. Colquhoun and Mrs.
+Luttrell. He will submit his claims to them, and ascertain the line that
+they will take. After that, he will put the law in motion, and take
+steps towards dispossessing Miss Murray.
+
+"I write all this to you at Dino's own request. I grieve to say that he
+is occasionally headstrong to a degree which gives us pain and anxiety.
+He refused to take any steps in the matter until I had communicated with
+you, because he says that if you intend to make yourself known by your
+former name, and take back the property which accrued to you upon Mr.
+Richard Luttrell's death, he will not stand in your way. I have pointed
+out to him, as I now point out to you, that this line of action would be
+dishonest, and practically impossible, because, in his interests, we
+should then take the matter up and make the facts public, but he insists
+upon my mentioning the proposal. I mention it in full confidence that
+your generosity and sense of honour will alike prevent you from putting
+obstacles in the way of my pupil's recognition by his mother and
+succession to his inheritance.
+
+"If you wish that Dino (as for the sake of convenience I will still call
+him) should be restored to his rights, and if you desire to show that
+you have no ill-feeling towards him on account of this proposed
+endeavour to recover what is really his own, he begs you to meet him on
+his arrival in London on the 18th of August. He will be in lodgings kept
+by a good Catholic friend of ours at No. 14, Tarragon-street,
+Russell-square, and you will inquire for him by the name of Mr. Vasari,
+as he will not assume the name of Brian Luttrell until he has seen you.
+He will, of course, be in secular dress.
+
+"I have now made you master of all necessary facts. If I have done so
+under protest, it is no concern of yours. I earnestly recommend you to
+give up your residence in Scotland, and to return, at any rate until
+this matter is settled, to San Stefano. I need hardly say that Brian
+Luttrell will never let you know the necessity of such drudgery as that
+in which you have lately been engaged.
+
+"With earnest wishes for your welfare, and above all for your speedy
+return to the bosom of the true Catholic Church in which you were
+baptised, and of which I hope to see you one day account yourself a
+faithful child, I remain, my dear son,
+
+    "Your faithful friend and father,
+    "Cristoforo Donaldi,
+    "Prior of the Monastery of San Stefano."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+"MISCHIEF, THOU ART AFOOT."
+
+
+Hugo's meditations were long and deep. More than an hour elapsed before
+he roused himself from the thoughtful attitude which he had assumed at
+the close of his first perusal of this letter. When he lifted his face
+from his hands, his lips were white, although they were twisted into the
+semblance of a smile.
+
+"So that is why I fancied I knew his face," he said, half aloud. "Who
+would have thought it? Brian alive, after all! What a fool he must be!
+What an unmitigated, egregious fool!"
+
+He poured out some brandy for himself with rather a shaky hand, and
+drank it off without water. He shivered a little, and drew closer to the
+fire. "It's a very cold night," he muttered, holding his hands out to
+the leaping flame, and resting his forehead upon the marble mantelpiece.
+"It's a cold night, and ---- it all, are my wits going? I can't think
+clearly; I can hardly see out of my eyes. It's the shock; that's what it
+is. The shock? Yes, Dio mio, and it is a shock, in all conscience!
+Whoever would have believed that Brian could possibly be alive all this
+time! Poor devil! I suppose that little 'accident' to Richard preyed
+upon his mind. He must be mad to have given up his property from a
+scruple of that sort. I never should have thought that a man could be
+such a fool. It's an awful complication."
+
+He threw himself into an arm-chair, and leaned back with his dark,
+delicately-beautiful face slanted reflectively towards the ceiling. He
+was too much disturbed in mind to afford himself the solace of a cigar.
+
+"This old fellow--the Prior--seems to know the family affairs very
+intimately," he went on thinking. "This is another extraordinary
+occurrence. Brian alive is nothing to the fact that Brian is the son of
+some Italian woman--a peasant-woman probably. Did Aunt Margaret suspect
+it? She always hated Brian; every one could see that. When she said
+once, 'He is not my son,' did she mean the words literally? Quite
+possible."
+
+"And the real Brian Luttrell is now to appear on the scene! What is his
+name? Dino--Bernardino--Vasari. Of course, there was little use in his
+coming forward as long as Richard Luttrell was alive. Now that he is
+gone and Brian is heir to the property, this young fellow, whom the
+priests have got hold of, becomes important. No doubt this is what they
+have hoped for all along. He will have the property and he is a devout
+son of the Church, and will employ it to Catholic ends. I know the
+jargon--I heard enough of it in Sicily. They have the proofs, no
+doubt--they could easily manufacture them if they were wanting; and they
+will oust Elizabeth Murray and set their pet pupil in her place, and
+manage the land and the money and everything else for him. And what will
+Mrs. Luttrell say?"
+
+He paused, and changed his position uneasily. His brows contracted; his
+eye grew restless as he continued to reflect.
+
+"It's my belief," he said at last, "that Mrs. Luttrell will be
+enchanted. And then what will become of me?"
+
+He rose from his chair and began to pace up and down the room. "What
+will become of me?" he repeated. "What will become of the
+fifteen-hundred a-year, and the house and grounds, and all the rest of
+the good things that she promised to give me? They will go, no doubt, to
+the son and heir. Did she ever propose to give me anything while Richard
+and Brian had to be provided for? Not she! She notices me now only
+because she thinks that I am the only Luttrell in existence. When she
+knows that there is a son of her's still living, I shall go to the wall.
+I shall be ruined. There will be no Netherglen for me, no marriage with
+an heiress, no love-making with pretty little Kitty. I shall have to
+disappear from the scene. I cannot hold my ground against a son--a son
+of the house! Curses on him! Why isn't he dead?"
+
+Hugo bestowed a few choice Sicilian epithets of a maledictory character
+upon Dino Vasari and Brian Luttrell both; then he returned to the table
+and studied the latter pages of Father Cristoforo's letter.
+
+"Meet him in London. I should like to meet Dino Vasari, too. I wonder
+whether Brian had read this letter when he dropped it. These
+instructions come at the very end. If he has not read these sentences, I
+might find a way of outwitting them all yet. I think I could prevent
+Dino Vasari from ever setting foot in Scotland. How can I find out?"
+
+"And what an extraordinary thing for Brian to do--to take a tutorship in
+the very family where Elizabeth Murray is living. What has he done it
+for? Is he in love with one of those girls? Or does he hope to retrieve
+his mistake by persuading Elizabeth Murray to marry him? A very
+round-about way of getting back his fortune, unless he means to induce
+Dino Vasari to hold his tongue. If Dino Vasari were out of the way, and
+Brian felt his title to the estate rather shaky, of course, it would be
+very clever of him to make love to Elizabeth. But he's too great a fool
+for that. What was his motive, I wonder? Is it possible that he did not
+know who she was?"
+
+But he rejected this suggestion as an entirely incredible one.
+
+After a little further thought, another idea occurred to him. Father
+Cristoforo's letter consisted of three closely-written sheets of paper.
+He separated the first sheet from the others; the last words on the
+sheet ran as follows:--
+
+"Is it on account of either of these ladies that you have returned to
+England?"
+
+This sheet he folded and enclosed in an envelope, which he carefully
+sealed and addressed to John Stretton, Esquire. He placed the other
+sheets in his own pocket-book, and then went peacefully to bed. He could
+do nothing more, he told himself, and, although his excitable
+disposition prevented his sleeping until dawn grew red in the eastern
+sky, he would not waste his powers unnecessarily by sitting up to brood
+over the resolution that he had taken.
+
+Before ten o'clock next morning he was riding to Strathleckie. On
+reaching the house he asked at once if he could see Mr. Stretton. The
+maid-servant who answered the door looked surprised, hesitated a moment,
+and then asked him to walk in. He followed her, and was not surprised to
+find that she was conducting him straight to the school-room, which was
+on the ground-floor. He had thought that she looked stupid; now he was
+sure of it. But it was a stupidity so much to his advantage that he
+mentally vowed to reward it by the gift of half-a-crown when he had the
+opportunity.
+
+The boys were at their lessons; their tutor sat at the head of the
+table, with his back towards the light. When he saw Hugo enter, he
+calmly took a pair of blue spectacles from the table and fixed them upon
+his nose. Hugo admired the coolness of the action. The blue spectacles
+were even a better disguise than the grey hair and the beard; if Mr.
+Stretton had worn them when he was standing at the railway station door,
+Hugo would never have been haunted by that look of recognition in his
+eyes.
+
+"Mary has made a mistake," said Mr. Stretton to one of the boys, in a
+curiously-muffled voice. "Take this gentleman up to the drawing-room,
+Harry."
+
+"There is no mistake," said Hugo, suavely. "I called to see Mr. Stretton
+on business; it will not take me a moment to explain. Mr. Stretton, may
+I ask whether you have lost any paper--a letter, I think--during the
+last few days?"
+
+"Yes. I lost a letter yesterday afternoon."
+
+"On the high road, I think. Then I was not mistaken in supposing that a
+paper that the wind blew to my feet this morning, as I was strolling
+down the road, belonged to yourself. Will you kindly open this envelope
+and tell me whether the paper contained in it is yours?"
+
+Mr. Stretton took the envelope and opened it without a word. He looked
+at the sheet, saw that one only was there, and then replied.
+
+"I am much obliged to you for your kindness. Yes, this is part of the
+letter that I lost."
+
+"Only part? Indeed, I am sorry for that," said Hugo, with every
+appearance of genuine interest. "I was first attracted towards it
+because it looked like a foreign letter, and I saw that it was written
+in Italian. On taking it up, I observed that it was addressed to a Mr.
+Stretton, and I could think of no other Mr. Stretton in the
+neighbourhood but yourself."
+
+"I am much obliged to you," Mr. Stretton repeated.
+
+"I hope you will find the rest of the letter," said Hugo, with rather a
+mocking look in his beautiful eyes. "It is awkward sometimes to drop
+one's correspondence. I need hardly say that it was safe in my
+hands----"
+
+"I am sure of that," said Mr. Stretton, mechanically.
+
+"But others might have found it--and read it. I hope it was not an
+important letter."
+
+"I hope not," Mr. Stretton answered, recovering himself a little; "but
+the fact is that I had read only the first page or two when I was
+interrupted, and I must have dropped it instead of putting it into my
+pocket."
+
+"That was unfortunate," said Hugo. "I hope it contained no very
+important communication. Good morning, Mr. Stretton; good morning to
+you," he added, with a smile for the children. "I must not interrupt you
+any longer."
+
+He withdrew, with a feeling of contemptuous wonder at the carelessness
+of a man who could lose a letter that he had never read. It was not the
+kind of carelessness that he practised.
+
+He did not leave the house without encountering Mrs. Heron and Kitty. He
+was easily persuaded to stay for a little time. It cost him no effort to
+make himself agreeable. He was like one of those sleek-coated animals of
+the panther tribe, sufficiently tamed or tameable to like caresses; and
+very few people recognised the latent ferocity that lay beneath the
+velvet softness of those dreamy eyes. He could bask in the sunshine like
+a cat; but he was only half-tamed after all.
+
+Elizabeth distrusted him; Kitty thought her unjust, and therefore acted
+as though she liked him better than she really did. She was a child
+still in her love of mischief, and she soon found a sort of pleasure in
+alternately vexing and pleasing her new admirer. But she was not in
+earnest. What did it matter to her if Hugo Luttrell's eyes glowed when
+she spoke a kind word to him, or his brow grew black as thunder if she
+neglected him for someone else? It never occurred to her to question
+whether it was wise to trifle with passions which might be of truly
+Southern vehemence and intensity.
+
+Hugo did not leave the house without making--or thinking that he had
+made--a discovery. Mr. Stretton did not appear at luncheon, but Hugo
+caught sight of him afterwards in the garden--with Elizabeth. To Hugo's
+mind, the very attitude assumed by the tutor in speaking to Miss Murray
+was a revelation. He was as sure as he was of his own existence that Mr.
+Stretton was "in love." Whether the affection was returned by Miss
+Murray or not he could not feel so sure.
+
+He made his way, after his visit to the Herons, to Mr. Colquhoun's
+office, and was fortunate in finding that gentleman at home.
+
+"Well, Hugo, and how are you?" asked the lawyer, who did not regard Mrs.
+Luttrell's nephew with any particular degree of favour. "What brings you
+to this part of the world again?"
+
+"My aunt's invitation," said Hugo.
+
+"Ah, yes; your aunt has a hankering after anybody of the name of
+Luttrell, at present. It won't last. Don't trust to it, Hugo."
+
+"I cannot say that I know what you mean, Mr. Colquhoun. I suppose I am
+at liberty to accept my aunt's repeated and pressing invitation? I came
+here to ask you a question. I will not trespass on your time longer than
+I can help."
+
+"Ask away, lad," said the old lawyer, not much impressed by Hugo's
+stateliness of demeanour. "Ask away. You'll get no lies, at any rate.
+And what is it you're wanting now?"
+
+"Have you any reason to suppose that my cousin Brian is not dead?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Colquhoun, shortly. "I haven't. I wish I had. Have you?"
+
+Without replying to this question, Hugo asked another.
+
+"You have no reason to think that there is any other man who would call
+himself by that name?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Colquhoun again, "I haven't. And I don't wish I had. But
+have you?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo.
+
+"Come, come, come," said the lawyer, restlessly; "you are joking, young
+man. Don't carry a joke too far. What do you mean?"
+
+Again Hugo replied by a question. "Did you ever hear of a place called
+San Stefano?" he said, gently.
+
+Old Mr. Colquhoun bounded in his seat. "Good God!" he said, although he
+was not a man given to the use of such ejaculations. And then he stared
+fixedly at Hugo.
+
+"I can't think how it has been kept quiet so long," said Hugo,
+tentatively. He was feeling his way. But this remark roused Mr.
+Colquhoun's ire.
+
+"Kept quiet? There was nothing to be kept quiet. Nothing except Mrs.
+Luttrell's own delusion on the subject; nobody wanted it to be known
+that she was as mad as a March hare on the subject. The nurse was as
+honest as the day. I saw her and questioned her myself."
+
+"But my aunt never believed----"
+
+"She never believed Brian to be her son. So much I may tell you without
+any breach of confidence, now that they are both in their graves, poor
+lads!" And then Mr. Colquhoun launched out upon the story of Mrs.
+Luttrell's illness and (so-called) delusion, to all of which Hugo
+listened with serious attention. But at the close of the narrative, the
+lawyer remembered Hugo's opening question. "And how did you come to know
+anything about it?" he said.
+
+Hugo's answer was ready. "I met a queer sort of man in the town this
+morning who was making inquiries that set me on the alert. I got hold of
+him--walked along the road with him for some distance--and heard a long
+story. He was a priest, I think--sent from San Stefano to investigate. I
+got a good deal out of him."
+
+"Eh?" said Mr. Colquhoun, slowly. "And where might he be staying, yon
+priest?"
+
+"Didn't ask," replied Hugo. "I told him to come to you for information.
+So you can look out. There's something in the wind, I'm sure. I thought
+you might have heard of it. Thank you for your readiness to enlighten
+me, Mr. Colquhoun. I've learnt a good deal to-day. Good morning."
+
+"Now what did he mean by that?" said the lawyer, when he was left alone.
+"It's hard to tell when he's telling the truth and when he's lying just
+for the pleasure of it, so to speak. As for his priest--I'm not so sure
+that I believe in his priest. I'll send down to the hotel and inquire."
+
+He sent to every hotel in the place, and from every hotel he received
+the same answer. They had no foreign visitor, and had had none for the
+last three weeks. There was apparently not a priest in the place. "It'll
+just be one of Master Hugo's lies," said Mr. Colquhoun, grimly. "There's
+a rod in pickle for that young man one of these days, and I should like
+well to have the applying of it to his shoulders. He's an awful scamp,
+is Hugo."
+
+There was a triumphant smile upon Hugo's face as he rode away from the
+lawyer's office. Twice in that day had his generalship been successful,
+and his success disposed him to think rather meanly of his
+fellow-creatures' intellects. It was surely very easy, and decidedly
+pleasant, to outwit one's neighbours! He had made both Brian and Mr.
+Colquhoun give him information which they would have certainly withheld
+had they known the object for which it had been asked. He was proud of
+his own dexterity.
+
+On his arrival at Netherglen he found that Mrs. Luttrell and Angela had
+gone for a drive. He was glad of it. He wanted a little time to himself
+in Brian's old room. He had already noticed that an old-fashioned
+davenport which stood in this room had never been emptied of its
+contents, and in this davenport he found two or three papers which were
+of service to him. He took them away to his bed-room, where he practised
+a certain kind of handwriting for two or three hours with tolerable
+success. He tried it again after dinner, when everybody was in bed, and
+he tried it again next day. It was rather a difficult hand to imitate
+well, but he was not easily discouraged.
+
+"I am afraid, dear aunt, that I must run up to town for a day or two,"
+he said to Mrs. Luttrell that evening, with engaging frankness. "I have
+business to transact. But I will be back in three or four days at most,
+if you will permit me."
+
+"Do as you please, Hugo," said Mrs. Luttrell, in her stoniest manner. "I
+have no wish to impose any kind of trammels upon you."
+
+"Dear Aunt Margaret, the only trammels that you impose are those of
+love!" said Hugo, in his silkiest undertone.
+
+Angela looked up. For the moment she was puzzled. To her, Hugo's speech
+sounded insincere. But the glance of the eye that she encountered was so
+caressing, the curves of his mouth were so sweetly infantine, that she
+accused herself of harsh judgment, and remembered Hugo's foreign blood
+and Continental training, which had given him the habit, she supposed,
+of saying "pretty things." She could not doubt his sincerity when she
+looked at the peach-like bloom of that oval face, the impenetrable
+softness of those velvet eyes. Hugo's physical beauty always stood him
+in good stead.
+
+"You are an affectionate, warm-hearted boy, I believe, Hugo," said Mrs.
+Luttrell. Then, after a short pause, she added, with no visible link of
+connection, "I have written instructions to Colquhoun. I expect him here
+to-morrow."
+
+Hugo looked innocent and attentive, but made no comment. His aunt kissed
+him with more warmth than usual when she said good-night. She had seldom
+kissed her sons after they reached manhood; but she caressed Hugo very
+frequently. She was softer in her manner with him than she had been even
+with Richard.
+
+"Take care of yourself in London," she said to him. "Do you want any
+money?"
+
+"No, thank you, Aunt Margaret. I shall be back in three days if I start
+to-morrow--at least, I think so. I'll telegraph if I am detained."
+
+"Yes, do so. To-morrow is the seventeenth. You will be back by the
+twentieth?"
+
+"If my business is done," said Hugo. And then he went back to his little
+experiments in caligraphy.
+
+It was not until the afternoon of the 18th of August that he found
+himself at the door of No. 14, Tarragon-street. It was a dingy-looking
+house in a dismal-looking street. Hugo shivered a little as he pulled
+the tarnished bell-handle. "How can people live in streets like this?"
+he said to himself, with a slight contemptuous shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"Mr. Vasari?" he said, interrogatively, as a downcast-looking woman came
+to the door.
+
+"Yes, sir. What name, sir, if you please?"
+
+"Say that a gentleman from Scotland wishes to see him."
+
+The woman gave him a keen look, as if she knew something of the errand
+upon which Dino Vasari had come to her house; but said nothing, and
+ushered him at once into a sitting-room on the ground-floor. The room
+was curtained so heavily that it seemed nearly dark. Hugo could not see
+whether it was tenanted by more than one person; of one he was sure,
+because that one person came to meet him with outstretched hands and
+eager words of greeting.
+
+"Mr. Luttrell! You have come, then; you have come--I knew you would!"
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Hugo, and at the sound of his voice the first
+speaker fell back amazed; "but I am Hugo Luttrell--not Brian. I come
+from him."
+
+"A thousand pardons; this English darkness is to blame," said the other,
+in fluent English speech, though with a slightly foreign accent. "Let us
+have lights; then we can know each other. I am--Dino Vasari."
+
+He said the name with a certain hesitation, as though not sure whether
+or no he ought to call himself by it. The light of a candle fell
+suddenly upon the two faces--which were turned towards one another in
+some curiosity. The two had a kind of superficial likeness of feature,
+but a total dissimilarity of expression. The subtlety of Hugo's eyes and
+mouth was never shown more clearly than when contrasted with the noble
+gravity that marked every line of Dino's traits. They stood and looked
+at each other for a moment--Dino, wrapped in admiration; Hugo, lost in a
+thought of dark significance.
+
+"So you are the man!" he was saying to himself. "You call yourself my
+cousin, do you? And you want the Strathleckie and the Luttrell estates?
+Be warned and go back to Italy, my good cousin, while you have time; you
+will never reach Scotland alive, I promise you. I shall kill you first,
+as I should kill a snake lying in my path. Never in your life, Mr. Dino
+Vasari, were you in greater danger than you are just now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A FLASK OF ITALIAN WINE.
+
+
+"I am Brian Luttrell's cousin," said Hugo, quietly, "and I come from
+him."
+
+"Then you know--you know----" Dino stammered, and he looked eagerly into
+Hugo's face.
+
+"I know all."
+
+"You know where he is now?"
+
+"I do. I have brought you a letter from him--a sort of introduction,"
+said Hugo, with a faint smile. "I trust that you will find it
+satisfactory."
+
+"No introduction is necessary," was Dino's polite reply. "I have heard
+him speak of you."
+
+Hugo's eyes flashed an interrogation. What had Brian said of him? But
+Dino's tones were so courteous, his face so calmly impassive, that Hugo
+was reassured. He bowed slightly, and placed a card and a letter on the
+table. Dino made an apology for opening the letter, and moved away from
+the table whilst he read it.
+
+There was a pause. Hugo's face flushed, his hands twitched a little. He
+was actually nervous about the success of his scheme. Suppose Dino were
+to doubt the genuineness of that letter!
+
+It consisted of a few words only, and they were Italian:--
+
+"Dino mio," it began, "the bearer of this letter is my cousin Hugo, who
+knows all the circumstances and will explain to you what are my views. I
+am ill, and cannot come to London. Burn this note.
+
+    "Brian Luttrell."
+
+Dino read it twice, and then handed it to Hugo, who perused it with as
+profound attention as though he had never seen the document before. When
+he gave it back, he was almost surprised to see Dino take it at once to
+the grate, deposit it amongst the coals, and wait until it was consumed
+to ashes before he spoke. There was a slight sternness of aspect, a
+compression of the lips, and a contraction of the brow, which impressed
+Hugo unfavourably during the performance of this action. It seemed to
+show that Dino Vasari might not be a man so easy to deal with as Brian
+Luttrell.
+
+"I have done what I was asked to do," he said, drawing himself up to his
+full height, and turning round with folded arms and darkening brow. "I
+have burnt his letter, and I should now be glad, Mr. Luttrell, to hear
+the views which you were to explain to me."
+
+"My cousin Brian----" began Hugo, with some deliberation; but he was not
+allowed to finish his sentence. Quick as thought, Dino Vasari
+interrupted him.
+
+"Pardon me, would it not be as well--under the circumstances--to speak
+of the gentleman in question as Mr. Stretton?"
+
+Hugo shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I have no objection," he said, "so long as you do not take my calling
+him by that name to be the expression of my opinion concerning the
+subject under consideration."
+
+This was so elaborate a sentence that Dino took some little time to
+consider it.
+
+"I see," he said at last, with a questioning look; "you mean that you
+are not convinced that he is the son of Vincenza Vasari?"
+
+"Neither is he," said Hugo.
+
+"But if we have proof----"
+
+"Mr. Vasari, you cannot imagine that my cousin will give up his rights
+without a struggle?"
+
+"But he has given them up," said Dino, vehemently. "He refuses to be
+called by his own name; he has let the estates pass away from him----"
+
+"But he means to claim his rights again," said Hugo.
+
+"Oh." Then there was a long silence. Dino sat down in a chair facing
+that of Hugo, and confronted him steadily. "I understood," he said at
+last, "when I was in Italy, that he had resolved to give up all claim to
+his name, or to his estate. He had disagreeable associations with both.
+He determined to let himself be thought dead, and to earn his own living
+under the name of John Stretton."
+
+"He did do so," said Hugo, softly; "but he has changed his mind."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"If I tell you why, may I ask you to keep what I say a profound secret?"
+
+Dino hesitated. Then he said firmly, "I will keep it secret so long as
+he desires me to do so."
+
+"Then listen. The reason of his change of mind is this. He has fallen in
+love. You will ask--with whom? With the woman to whom his estate has
+passed--Miss Murray. He means to marry her, and in that way to get back
+the estate which, by his own mad folly, he has forfeited."
+
+"Is this true?" said Dino, slowly. He fixed his penetrating dark eyes
+upon Hugo as he spoke, and turned a little pale. "And does this
+lady--this Miss Murray--know who he is? For I hear that he calls himself
+Stretton in her house. Does she know?"
+
+Hugo deliberated a little. "No," he answered, "I am sure that she does
+not."
+
+Dino rose to his feet. "It is impossible," he said, with an indignant
+flash of his dark eyes, which startled Hugo; "Brian would never be so
+base."
+
+"My only wonder is," murmured Hugo, reflectively, "that Brian should be
+so clever."
+
+"You call it clever?" said Dino, still more indignantly. "You call it
+clever to deceive a woman, to marry her for her money, to mislead her
+about one's name? Are these your English fashions? Is it clever to break
+your word, to throw away the love and the help that is offered you, to
+show yourself selfish, and designing, and false? This is what you tell
+me about the man whom you call your cousin, and then you ask me to
+admire his behaviour? Oh, no, I do not admire it. I call it mean, and
+base, and vile. And that is why he would not come to see me himself;
+that is why he sent you as an emissary. He could not look me in the face
+and tell me the things that you have told me!"
+
+He sat down again. The fire died out of his eyes, the hectic colour from
+his cheek. "But I do not believe it!" he said, more sorrowfully than
+angrily; and in a much lower voice; "I do not believe that he means to
+do this thing. He was always good and always true."
+
+Hugo watched him, and spoke after a little pause. "You had his letter,"
+he said. "He told you to believe what I said to you. I could explain his
+views."
+
+"Ah, but look you, perhaps you do not understand," said Dino, turning
+towards him with renewed vivacity. "It is a hard position, this of mine.
+Ever since I was a little child, it was hinted to me that I had English
+parents, that I did not belong to the Vasari family. When I grew older,
+the whole story of Vincenza's change of the children was told to me, and
+I used to think of the Italian boy who had taken my place, and wonder
+whether he would be sorry to exchange it for mine. I was not sorry; I
+loved my own life in the monastery. I wanted to be a priest. But I
+thought of the boy who bore my name; I wove fancies about him night and
+day; I wished with all my heart to see him. I used to think that the day
+would come when I should say to him--'Let us know each other; let us
+keep our secret, but love each other nevertheless. You can be Brian
+Luttrell, and I will be Dino Vasari, as long as the world lasts. We will
+not change. But we will be friends.'"
+
+His voice grew husky; he leaned his head upon his hands for a few
+moments, and did not speak. Hugo still watched him curiously. He was
+interested in the revelation of a nature so different from his own;
+interested, but contemptuous of it, too.
+
+"I could dream in this way," said Dino at last, "so long as no land--no
+money--was concerned. While Brian Luttrell was the second son the
+exchange of children was, after all, of very little consequence. When
+Richard Luttrell died, the position of things was changed. If he had
+lived, you would never have heard of Vincenza Vasari's dishonesty. The
+priests knew that there would be little to be gained by it. But when he
+died my life became a burden to me, because they were always saying--'Go
+and claim your inheritance. Go to Scotland and dispossess the man who
+lords it over your lands, and spends your revenues. Take your rights.'"
+
+"And then you met Brian?" said Hugo, as the narrator paused again.
+
+"I met him and I loved him. I was sorry for his unhappiness. He learnt
+the story that I had known for so many years, and it galled him. He
+refused to see the man who really ought to have borne his name. He knew
+me well enough, but he never suspected that I was Mr. Luttrell's son. We
+parted at San Stefano with friendly words; he did not suspect that I was
+leaving the place because I could not bear to see him day by day
+brooding over his grief, and never tell him that I did not wish to take
+his place."
+
+"But why did you not tell him?"
+
+"I was ordered to keep silence. The Prior said that he would tell him
+the whole story in good time. They sent me away, and, after a time, I
+heard from Father Cristoforo that he was gone, and had found a tutorship
+in an English family, that he vowed never to bear the name of Luttrell
+any more, and that the way was open for me to claim my own rights, as
+the woman Vincenza Vasari had been found and made confession."
+
+"So you came to England with that object?"
+
+"With the object, first," said Dino, lifting his face from his crossed
+arms, "of seeing him and asking him whether he was resolved to despoil
+himself of his name and fortune. I would not have raised a hand to do
+either, but, if he himself did it, I thought that I might pick up what
+he threw away. Not for myself, but for the Church to which I belong. The
+Church should have it all."
+
+"Would you give it away?" cried Hugo.
+
+"I am to be a monk. A monk has no property," was Dino's answer. "I
+wanted to be sure that he did not repent of his decision before I moved
+a finger."
+
+"You seem to have no scruple about despoiling Miss Murray of her goods,"
+said Hugo, drily.
+
+A fresh gleam shot from the young man's eyes.
+
+"Miss Murray is a woman," he said, briefly. "She does not need an
+estate. She will marry."
+
+"Marry Brian Luttrell, perhaps."
+
+"If she marries him as Mr. Stretton, she must take the consequences."
+
+"Well," said Hugo, "I must confess, Mr. Vasari, that I do not understand
+you. In one breath you say you would not injure Brian by a
+hair's-breadth; in another you propose to leave him and his wife in
+poverty if he marries Miss Murray."
+
+"No, pardon me, you mistake," replied Dino, gently. "I will never injure
+him whom you call, Brian, but if he keeps the name of Stretton I shall
+claim the rights which he has given up. And, when the estate is mine, I
+will give him and his wife what they want; I will give them half, if
+they desire it, but I will have what is my own, first of all, and in
+spite of all."
+
+"You say, in fact, that you will not injure Brian, but that you do not
+care how much you injure Miss Murray."
+
+"That is not it," cried Dino, his dark eye lighting up and his form
+positively trembling with excitement. "I say that, if Brian himself had
+come to me and asked me to spare him, or the woman he loved, for his
+sake I would have yielded and gone back to San Stefano to-morrow; I
+would have destroyed the evidence; I would have given up all, most
+willingly; but when he treats me harshly, coldly--when he will not, now
+that he knows who I am, make one little journey to see me and tell me
+what he wishes; when he even tries to deceive me, and to deceive this
+lady of whom you speak--why, then, I stand upon my rights; and I will
+not yield one jot of my claim to the Luttrell estate and the Luttrell
+name."
+
+"You will not?"
+
+"I will fight to the death for it."
+
+Hugo smiled slightly.
+
+"There will be very little fighting necessary, if you have your evidence
+ready. You have it with you, I presume?"
+
+"I have copies; the original depositions are with my lawyer."
+
+"Ah. And he is----"
+
+"A Mr. Grattan; there is his address," said Dino, placing a card before
+his visitor. "I suppose that all further business will be transacted
+through him?"
+
+"I suppose so. Then you have made your decision?"
+
+"Yes. One moment, Mr. Luttrell. Excuse me for mentioning it; but you
+have made two statements, one of which seems to me to contradict the
+other." Dino had recovered all his usual coolness, and fixed his keen
+gaze upon Hugo in a way which that young man found a little
+embarrassing. "You told me that Brian--as we may still call
+him--intended to claim his old name once more. Then you said that he
+meant to marry Miss Murray under the name of Stretton. You will remark
+that these two intentions are incompatible; he cannot do both these
+things."
+
+Hugo felt that he had blundered.
+
+"I spoke hastily," he said, with an affectation of ingenuous frankness,
+which sat very well upon his youthful face. "I believe that his
+intentions are to preserve the name of Stretton, and to marry Miss
+Murray under it."
+
+"Then I will tell Mr. Grattan to take the necessary steps to-morrow,"
+said Dino, rising, as if to hint that the interview had now come to an
+end.
+
+Hugo looked at him with surprised, incredulous eyes.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vasari," he said, naively, "don't let us part on these
+unfriendly terms. Perhaps you will think better of the matter, and more
+kindly of Brian, if we talk it over a little more."
+
+"At the present moment, I think talk will do more harm than good, Mr.
+Luttrell."
+
+"Won't you write yourself to Brian?" faltered Hugo, as if he hardly
+dared to make the suggestion.
+
+"No, I think not. You will tell him my decision."
+
+"I'm afraid I have been a bad ambassador," said Hugo, with an air of
+boyish simplicity, "and that I have offended you."
+
+"Not at all." Dino held out his hand. "You have spoken very wisely, I
+think. Do not let me lose your esteem if I claim what I believe to be my
+rights."
+
+Hugo sighed. "I suppose we ought to be enemies--I don't know," he said.
+"I don't like making enemies--won't you come and dine with me to-night,
+just to show that you do not bear me any malice. I have rooms in town;
+we can be there in a few minutes. Come back with me and have dinner."
+
+Dino tried to evade the invitation. He would much rather have been
+alone; but Hugo would take no denial. The two went out together without
+summoning the landlady: Hugo took his companion by the arm, and walked
+for a little way down the street, then summoned a hansom from the door
+of a public-house, and gave an address which Dino did not hear. They
+drove for some distance. Dino thought that his new friend's lodgings
+were situated in a rather obscure quarter of London; but he made no
+remark in words, for he knew his own ignorance of the world, and he had
+never been in England before. Hugo's lodgings appeared to be on the
+second-floor of a gloomy-looking house, of which the ground-floor was
+occupied by a public bar and refreshment-room. The waiters were German
+or French, and the cookery was distinctly foreign in flavour. There was
+a touch of garlic in every dish, which Dino found acceptable, and which
+was not without its charm for Hugo Luttrell.
+
+Dessert was placed upon the table, and with it a flask of some old
+Italian wine, which looked to Dino as if it had come straight from the
+cellars of the monastery at San Stefano. "It is our wine," he said, with
+a smile. "It looks like an old friend."
+
+"I thought that you would appreciate it," said Hugo, with a laugh, as he
+rose and poured the red wine carelessly into Dino's glass. "It is too
+rough for me; but I was sure that you would like it."
+
+He poured out some for himself and raised the glass, but he scarcely
+touched it with his lips. His eyes were fixed upon his guest.
+
+Dino smiled, praised his host's thoughtfulness, and swallowed a mouthful
+or two of the wine; then set down his glass.
+
+"There is something wrong with the flavour," he said: "something a
+little bitter."
+
+"Try it again," said Hugo, averting his eyes. "I thought it very good.
+At any rate, it is harmless: one may drink any amount of it without
+doing oneself an injury."
+
+"Yes, but this is curiously coarse in flavour," persisted Dino. "One
+would think that it was mixed with some other spirit or cordial. But I
+must try it again."
+
+He drained his glass. Hugo refilled it immediately, but soon perceived
+that it was needless to offer his guest a second draught. Dino raised
+his hand to his brow with a puzzled gesture, and then spoke confusedly.
+
+"I do not know how it is," he said. "I am quite dizzy--I cannot
+see--I----"
+
+His eyes grew dim: his hands fell to his sides, and his head upon his
+breast. He muttered a few incoherent words, and then sank into silence,
+broken only by the sound of his heavy breathing and something like an
+occasional groan. Hugo watched him carefully, and smiled to himself now
+and then. In a short time he rose, emptied the remainder of the wine in
+the flask into Dino's glass, rinsed out the flask with clear water, then
+poured the dregs, as well as the wine in the glasses, into the mould of
+a large flower-pot that stood in a corner of the room. "Nobody can tell
+any tales now, I think," said Hugo, with a triumphant, disagreeable
+smile. And then he called the waiter and paid his bill--as if he were a
+temporary visitor instead of having lodgings in the house, as he had led
+Dino to believe.
+
+The waiter glanced once or twice at the figure on the chair. "Gentleman
+had a leetle moche to drink," he said, nodding towards poor Dino.
+
+"A little too much," said Hugo, carelessly. "He'll be better soon." Then
+he went and shook the young man by the arm. "Come," he said, "it's time
+for us to go. Wake up; I'll see you home. That wine was a little too
+strong for you, was it not?"
+
+Dino opened his eyes, half-rose, muttered something, and then sank back
+in his chair.
+
+"Gentleman want a cab, perhaps?" said the waiter.
+
+"Well, really, I don't know," said Hugo, looking quite puzzled and
+distressed. "If he can't walk we must have a cab; but if he can, I'd
+rather not; his lodgings are not far from here. Come, Jack, can't you
+try?"
+
+Dino, addressed as Jack for the edification of the waiter, rose, and
+with Hugo's help staggered a few steps. Hugo was somewhat disconcerted.
+He had not counted upon Dino's small experience of intoxicating liquors
+when he prepared that beverage for him beforehand. He had meant Dino to
+be wild and noisy: and, behold, he presented all the appearance of a man
+who was dead drunk, and could hardly walk or stand.
+
+They managed to get him downstairs, and there, revived by the fresh air,
+he seemed able to walk to the lodgings which, as Hugo said, were close
+at hand. The landlord and the waiters laughed to each other when the two
+gentlemen were out of sight. "He must have taken a good deal to make him
+like that," said one of them. "The other was sober enough. Who were
+they?" The landlord shook his head. "Never saw either of them before
+yesterday," he said. "They paid, at any rate: I wish all my customers
+did as much." And he went back to the little parlour which he had
+quitted for a few moments in order to observe the departure of the
+gentleman who had got so drunk upon a flask of heady Italian wine.
+
+Meanwhile, Hugo was leading his victim through a labyrinth of dark
+streets and lanes. Dino was hard to conduct in this manner; he leaned
+heavily upon his guide, he staggered at times, and nearly fell. The
+night was dark and foggy; more than once Hugo almost lost his bearings
+and turned in a wrong direction. But he had a reason for all the devious
+windings and turnings which he took; he was afraid of being spied upon,
+followed, tracked. It was not until he came at last to a dark lane,
+between rows of warehouses, where not a light twinkled in the rooms, nor
+a solitary pedestrian loitered about the pavement, that he seemed
+inclined to pause. "This is the place," he said to himself, tightening
+his grasp upon the young man's arm. "This is the place I chose."
+
+He led Dino down the lane, looking carefully about him until he came to
+a narrow archway on his left hand. This archway opened on a flagged
+passage, at the end of which a flight of steps led up to one of the
+empty warehouses. It was a lonely, deserted spot.
+
+He dragged his companion into this entry; the steps of the two men
+echoed upon the flags for a little way, and then were still. There was
+the sound of a fall, a groan, then silence. And after five minutes of
+that silence, Hugo Luttrell crept slowly back to the lane, and stood
+there alone. He cast one fearful glance around him: nobody was in sight,
+nobody seemed to have heard the sounds that he had heard. With a quick
+step and resolute mien he plunged again into the network of little
+streets, reached a crowded thoroughfare at last, and took a cab for the
+Strand. He had a ticket for a theatre in his pocket. He went to the
+theatre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+BRIAN'S WELCOME.
+
+
+The hint given in the Prior's letter concerning Brian's reasons for
+continuing to teach in the Heron family, together with Hugo's own
+quickness of perception, had enabled that astute young man to hit upon
+something very like the exact truth. He had exaggerated it in his
+conversation with Dino: he had attributed motives to Brian which
+certainly never entered Brian's mind; but this was done for his own
+purposes. He thought that Brian's love for Elizabeth Murray might prove
+a useful weapon in the struggle between Dino's sense of his rights and
+the romantic affection that he entertained for the man who had taken his
+place in the world--an affection which Hugo understood so little and
+despised so much, that he fancied himself sure of an easy victory over
+Dino's resolution to fight for his rightful position. It was greatly to
+his surprise that he found so keen a sense of justice and resentment at
+the little trust that Brian had reposed in him present in Dino's mind:
+the young man had been irritatingly firm in his determination to possess
+the Strathleckie estate; he knew precisely what he wanted, and what he
+meant to do. And although he was inclined to be generous to Brian and to
+Miss Murray, there seemed no reason to expect that he would be equally
+generous to Hugo. Therefore Hugo had felt himself obliged to use what he
+called "strong measures."
+
+He did not like strong measures. They were disagreeable to him. But they
+were less disagreeable than the thought of being poor. Hugo made little
+account of human life and human suffering so long as the suffering did
+not actually touch himself. He seemed to be born with as little heart as
+a beast of prey, which strikes when it is angry, or when it wants food,
+with no remorse and no regret. "A disagreeable necessity," Hugo called
+his evil deed, but he considered that the law of self-preservation
+justified him in what he did.
+
+And Brian Luttrell? What reason was it that made him fling prudence to
+the winds, and follow the Herons to the neighbourhood of a place where
+he had resolved never to show his face again?
+
+There was one great, overmastering reason--so great that it made him
+attempt what was well-nigh impossible. His love for Elizabeth Murray had
+taken full possession of him: he dreamed of her, he worshipped the very
+ground she trod upon; he would have sacrificed life itself for the
+chance of a gentle word from her.
+
+Life, but not honour. Much as he loved her, he would have fled to the
+very ends of the earth if he had known, if he had for one moment
+suspected, that she was the Miss Murray who owned the landed estate
+which once went with the house and grounds of Netherglen.
+
+It seemed almost incredible that he should not have had this fact forced
+from the first upon his knowledge; but such at present was the case.
+They had remained in Italy for the first three months of his engagement,
+and, during that time, he had not lived in the Villa Venturi, but simply
+given his lessons and taken his departure. Sometimes he breakfasted or
+lunched with the family party, but at such times no business affairs
+were discussed. And Elizabeth had made it a special request that Mr.
+Stretton should not be informed of the fact that it was she who
+furnished money for the expenses of the household. She had taken care
+that his salary should be as large as she could make it without
+attracting remark, but she had an impression that Mr. Stretton would
+rather be paid by Mr. Heron than by her. And, as she wished for silence
+on the subject of her lately-inherited wealth, and as the Herons were of
+that peculiarly happy-go-lucky disposition that did not consider the
+possession of wealth a very important circumstance, Mr. Stretton passed
+the time of his sojourn in Italy in utter ignorance of the fact that
+Elizabeth was the provider of villa, gardens, servants, and most of the
+other luxuries with which the Herons were well supplied. Percival, in
+his outspoken dislike of the arrangement, would probably have
+enlightened him if they had been on friendly terms; but Percival showed
+so decided and unmistakable an aversion to the tutor, that he scarcely
+spoke to him during his stay, and, indeed, made his visit a short one,
+chiefly on account of Mr. Stretton's presence.
+
+The change from Italy to Scotland was made at the doctor's suggestion.
+The children's health flagged a little in the heat, and it was thought
+better that they should try a more bracing air. When the matter was
+decided, and Mr. Colquhoun had written to them that Strathleckie was
+vacant, and would be a convenient house for Miss Murray's purposes in
+all respects--then, and not till then, was Mr. Stretton informed of the
+proposed change of residence, and asked whether he would accompany the
+family to Scotland.
+
+Brian hesitated. He knew well enough the exact locality of the house to
+which they were going: he had visited it himself in other days. But it
+was several miles from Netherglen: he would be allowed, he knew, to
+absent himself from the drawing-room or the dinner-table whenever he
+chose, he need not come in contact with the people whom he used to know.
+Besides, he was changed beyond recognition. And probably the two women
+at Netherglen led so retired a life that neither of them was likely to
+be encountered--not even at church; for, although the tenants of
+Netherglen and Strathleckie went to the same town for divine worship on
+Sunday mornings, yet Mrs. Luttrell and Angela attended the Established
+Church, while the Herons were certain to go to the Episcopal. And Hugo
+was away. There was really small chance of his being seen or recognised.
+He thought that he should be safe. And, while he still hesitated, he
+looked up and saw that the eyes of Miss Murray were bent upon him with
+so kindly an inquiry, so gracious a friendliness in their blue depths,
+that his fears and doubts suddenly took wing, and he thought of nothing
+but that he should still be with her.
+
+He consented. And then, for the first time, it crossed his mind to
+wonder whether she was a connection of the Murrays to whom his estate
+had passed, and from whom he believed that Mr. Heron was renting the
+Strathleckie house.
+
+He had left England without ascertaining what members of the Murray
+family were living; and the letter in which Mr. Colquhoun detailed the
+facts of Elizabeth's existence and circumstances, had reached Geneva
+after his departure upon the expedition which was supposed to have
+resulted in his death. He had never heard of the Herons. He imagined
+Gordon Murray to be still living--probably with a large family and a
+wife. He knew that they could not live at Netherglen, and he wondered
+vaguely whether he should meet them in the neighbourhood to which he was
+going. Murray was such an ordinary name that in itself it told him
+nothing at all. Elizabeth Murray! Why, there might be a dozen Elizabeth
+Murrays within twenty miles of Netherglen: there was no reason at all to
+suppose that this Elizabeth Murray was a connection of the Gordon
+Murrays who were cousins of his own--no, not of his own: he had
+forgotten that never more could he claim that relationship for himself.
+They were cousins of some unknown Brian Luttrell, brought up under a
+false name in a small Italian village. What had become of that true
+Brian, whom he had refused to meet at San Stefano? And had Father
+Cristoforo succeeded in finding the woman whom he sought, and supplying
+the missing links in the evidence? In that case, the Murrays would soon
+hear of the claimant to their estate, and there would be a law-suit.
+Brian began to feel interested in the matter again. He had lost all care
+for it in the period following upon his illness. He now foresaw, with
+something almost like pleasure, that he could easily obtain information
+about the Murrays if he went with the Herons to Strathleckie. And he
+should certainly take the first opportunity of making inquiries. Even if
+he himself were no Luttrell, there was no reason why he should not take
+the deepest interest in the Luttrells of Netherglen. He wanted
+particularly to know whether the Italian claimant had come forward.
+
+He was perfectly ignorant of the fact of which Father Cristoforo's
+letter would have informed him, that this possible Italian claimant was
+no other than his friend, Dino Vasari.
+
+Of course, he could not be long at Strathleckie without finding out the
+truth about Elizabeth. If he had lived much with the Herons, he would
+have found it out in the course of the first twenty-four hours.
+Elizabeth's property was naturally referred to by name: the visitors who
+came to the house called upon her rather than upon the Herons: it was
+quite impossible that the secrecy upon which Elizabeth had insisted in
+Italy could be maintained in Scotland. The only wonder was that he
+should live, as he did live, for five whole days at Strathleckie without
+discovering the truth. Perhaps Elizabeth took pains to keep it from him!
+
+She had been determined to keep another secret, even if she could not
+hide the fact, that she was a rich woman. She would not have her
+engagement to Percival made public. For two whole years, she said, she
+would wait: for two whole years neither she nor her cousin should
+consider each other as bound. But that she herself considered the
+engagement morally binding might be inferred from the fact of her
+allowing Percival to kiss her--she surely would not have permitted that
+kiss if she had not meant to marry him! So Percival himself understood
+it; so Elizabeth knew that he understood.
+
+She was not quite like herself in the first days of her residence in
+Scotland. She was graver and more reticent than usual: little inclined
+to talk, and much occupied with the business that her new position
+entailed upon her. Mr. Colquhoun, her solicitor, was astonished at her
+clear-headedness; Stewart, the factor, was amazed at the attention she
+bestowed upon every detail; even the Herons were surprised at the
+methodical way in which she parcelled out her days and devoted herself
+to a full understanding of her position. She seemed to shrink less than
+heretofore from the responsibilities that wealth would bring her, and
+perhaps the added seriousness of her lip and brow was due to her resolve
+to bear the burden that providence meant her to bear instead of trying
+to lay it upon other people's shoulders.
+
+A great deal of this necessary business had been transacted before Mr.
+Stretton made his appearance at Strathleckie. He had been offered a
+fortnight's holiday, and had accepted it, seeing that his absence was to
+some extent desired by Mrs. Heron, who was always afraid lest her dear
+children should be overworked by their tutor. Thus it happened that he
+did not reach Strathleckie until the very day on which Hugo also arrived
+on his way to Netherglen. They had seen each other at the station, where
+Brian incautiously appeared without the blue spectacles which he relied
+upon as part of his disguise. From the white, startled horror which
+overcast Hugo's face, this young man saw that he had been almost, if not
+quite, recognised; and he expected to be sought out and questioned as to
+his identity. But Hugo made no effort to question him: in fact, he did
+not see the tutor again until the day when he came to restore a fragment
+of the letter which Brian had carelessly dropped in the road before he
+read it. During this interview he betrayed no suspicion, and Brian
+comforted himself with the thought that Hugo had, at any rate, not read
+the sheet that he returned to him.
+
+A dog-cart was sent for him and his luggage on the day of his arrival.
+He had a five miles' drive before he reached Strathleckie, where he
+received a tumultuous welcome from the boys, a smiling one from Mrs.
+Heron and Kitty, a hearty shake of the hands from Mr. Heron. But where
+was Elizabeth? He did not dare to ask.
+
+She was out, he learnt afterwards: she had driven over to the town to
+lunch with the Colquhouns. For a moment he did think this strange; then
+he put aside the thought and remembered it no more.
+
+There was a long afternoon to be dragged through: then there was a
+school-room tea, nominally at six, really not until nearly seven,
+according to the lax and unpunctual fashion of the Heron family. Mr.
+Stretton had heard that there were to be guests at dinner, and, keeping
+up his character as a shy man, declined to be present. He was sitting in
+a great arm-chair by the cheerful, little fire, which was very
+acceptable even on an August evening: the clock on the mantelpiece had
+just chimed a quarter-past seven, and he was beginning to wonder where
+the boys could possibly be, when the door opened and Elizabeth came in.
+He rose to his feet.
+
+"They told me that you had come," she said, extending her hand to him
+with quiet friendliness. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mr.
+Stretton."
+
+"Very pleasant, thank you."
+
+He could not say more: he was engaged in devouring with his eyes every
+feature of her fair face, and thinking in his heart that he had
+underrated the power of her beauty. In the fortnight that he had been
+away from her he had pictured her to himself as not half so fair. She
+had taken off her out-door things, and was dressed in a very plain,
+brown gown, which fitted closely to her figure. At her throat she wore a
+little bunch of sweet autumn violets, with one little green leaf,
+fastened into her dress by a gold brooch. It was the very ostentation of
+simplicity, yet, with that noble carriage of her head and shoulders, and
+those massive coils of golden-brown hair, nobody could have failed to
+remark the distinction of her appearance, nor to recognise the fact that
+there is a kind of beauty which needs no ornament.
+
+Brian took off the ugly, blue spectacles which he had adopted of late,
+and laid them upon the mantelshelf. He did not need them in the
+flickering firelight, which alone illumined the dimness of the room.
+
+Elizabeth laid her shapely arm upon the mantelpiece and looked into the
+fire. He stood beside her, looking down at her--for he was a little
+taller than herself--but she seemed unconscious of his gaze. She spoke
+presently in rather low tones.
+
+"The boys are late. I hope they do not often keep you waiting in this
+way."
+
+"They have never done it before. I do not mind."
+
+"They were very anxious to have you back. They missed you very much."
+
+Had she missed him, too? He could not venture to ask that question.
+
+"You will find things changed," she went on, restlessly lifting a little
+vase upon the mantelpiece and setting it down again; "you will find us
+much busier than we used to be--much more absorbed in our own pursuits.
+Scotland is not like Italy."
+
+"No. I wish it were."
+
+"And I----" Her voice broke, as if some emotion troubled her; there came
+a swift, short sigh, and then she spoke more calmly. "I wish sometimes
+that one had no duties, no responsibilities; but life would not be worth
+having if one shirked them, after all."
+
+"There is a charm in life without them--at least, so far without them as
+that pleasant life in Italy used to be," said he, rather eagerly.
+
+"Yes, but that is all over."
+
+"All over?"
+
+She bowed her head.
+
+"Is there nothing left?" said Brian, approaching her a little more
+nearly. Then, as she was silent, he continued in a hurried, low voice,
+"I knew that life must be different here, but I thought that some of the
+pleasantest hours might be repeated--even in Scotland--although we are
+without those sunny skies and groves of orange trees. Even if the clouds
+are grey, and the winds howl without, we might still read Dante's
+'Paradiso' and Petrarca's 'Sonnets,' as we used to do at the Villa
+Venturi."
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, gently, "we might. But here I shall not have
+time."
+
+"Why not? Why should you sacrifice yourself for others in the way you
+do? It is not right."
+
+"I--sacrifice myself?" she said, lifting her eyes for a moment to his
+face. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean," he said, "that I have watched you for the last three months,
+and I have seen you day after day give up your own pleasure and your own
+profit for others, until I longed to ask them what right they had to
+claim your whole life and leave you nothing--nothing--for yourself----"
+
+"You mistake," she interrupted him quickly. "They leave me all I want;
+and they were kind to me when I came amongst them--a penniless
+child----"
+
+"What does it matter if you were penniless?" said Brian. "Have you not
+paid them a thousand times for all that they did for you?" Then, as she
+looked at him with rather a singular expression in her eyes, he hastened
+to explain. "I mean that you have given them your love, your care, your
+time, in a way that no sister, no daughter, ever could have done! You
+have taught the children all they know; you have sympathised with the
+cares of every one in turn--I have watched you and seen it day by day!
+And I say that even if you are penniless, as you say, you have repaid
+them a thousand times for all that they have done; and that you are
+wrong to let them take your time and your care, to the exclusion of your
+own interests. I beg your pardon; I have said too much," he said,
+breaking off suddenly, as the singular expression deepened upon her
+musing face.
+
+"No," she said, with a smile, "I like to hear it: go on. What ought I to
+do?"
+
+"Ah, that I cannot tell you. But I think you give yourself almost too
+much to others. Surely, no one could object if you took a little time
+from the interests of the rest of the family for your own pleasure, for
+your studies, your amusements?"
+
+"No," she answered, quietly, "I do not suppose they would."
+
+She stood and looked into the fire, and the smile again crossed her
+face.
+
+"I have said more than I ought to have done," repeated Brian. "Forgive
+me."
+
+"I will forgive you for everything," she said, "except for thinking that
+one can do too much for the people that one loves. I am sure that you do
+not act upon that principle, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"It can be carried to an extreme, like any other," said Mr. Stretton,
+wisely.
+
+"And you think I carry it to an extreme? Oh, no. I only do what it is a
+pleasure to me to do. Think of the situation: an orphaned, penniless
+girl--that is what you have said to yourself is it not----?"
+
+"Yes," said Brian, wondering a little at the keen inquiry in her eyes as
+she paused for the reply. The questioning look was lost in a lovely
+smile as she proceeded; she cast down her eyes to hide the expression of
+pleasure and amusement that his words had caused.
+
+"An orphaned, penniless girl, then, cast on the charity of friends who
+were then not very well able to support her, educated by them, loved by
+them--does she not owe them a great debt, Mr. Stretton? What would have
+become of me without my uncle's care? And, now that I am able to repay
+them a little--in various ways"--she hesitated as she spoke--"ought I
+not to do my best to please them? Ought I not to give them as much of
+myself as they want? Make a generous answer, and tell me that I am
+right."
+
+"You are always right--too right!" he said, half-impatiently. "If you
+could be a little less generous----"
+
+"What then?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Why, then, you would be--more human, perhaps, more like ourselves--but
+less than what we have always taken you for," said Mr. Stretton,
+smiling.
+
+Elizabeth laughed. "You have spoilt the effect of your lecture," she
+said, turning away.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I ought not to have said what I did," said Brian,
+sensitively alive to her slightest change of tone. "Miss Murray, tell me
+at least that I have not offended you before you go."
+
+"You have not offended me," she said. He could not see her face.
+
+"You are quite sure?" he said, anxiously. "For, indeed, I had forgotten
+that it was not my part to offer any opinion upon your conduct, and I am
+afraid that I have given it with impertinent bluntness. You will forgive
+me?"
+
+She turned round and looked at him with a smile. There was a colour in
+her cheek, a softness in her eye, that he did not often see. "Indeed,
+Mr. Stretton," she said, gently, "I have nothing to forgive. I am very
+much obliged to you."
+
+He took a step towards her as if there was something else that he would
+have gladly said; but at that moment the sound of the boys' voices
+echoed through the hall.
+
+"There is no time for more," said Brian, with some annoyance.
+
+"No," she answered. "And yet I have something else to say to you. Will
+you remember that some other day?"
+
+"Indeed, I shall remember," he said, fervently. And then the boys burst
+into the room, and in the hubbub of their arrival Elizabeth escaped.
+
+Her violets had fallen out of her brooch. Brian found them upon the
+floor when she had gone; henceforth he kept them amongst his treasures.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE WISHING WELL.
+
+
+Hugo's first call at Strathleckie was made on the day following Mr.
+Stretton's arrival. Father Cristoforo's letter had been delivered by
+that morning's post, and it was during a stroll, in which, to tell the
+truth, Brian was more absorbed by the thought of Elizabeth than by any
+remembrance of his own position or of the Prior's views, that he dropped
+the letter of which the contents had so important a bearing on his
+future life. In justice to Brian, it must be urged that he had no idea
+that the Prior's letter was likely to be of any importance. Ever since
+he left San Stefano, the Prior had corresponded with him; but his
+letters were generally on very trivial subjects, or filled with advice
+upon moral and doctrinal points, which Brian could not find interesting.
+The severe animadversions upon his folly in returning to Scotland under
+an assumed name, which filled the first sheet, did not rouse in him any
+lively desire to read the rest of the letter. It was not likely to
+contain anything that he ought to know; and, at any rate, he could
+explain the loss and apologise for it in his next note to Padre
+Cristoforo.
+
+The meeting between him and Elizabeth in the garden, which had been such
+a revelation to Hugo's mind, was purely accidental and led to no great
+result. She had been begged by the children to ask Mr. Stretton for a
+holiday. They wanted to go to a Wishing Well in the neighbourhood, and
+to have a picnic in honour of Kitty's birthday. Mr. Stretton was sure
+not to refuse them they said--if Elizabeth asked. And Mr. Stretton did
+not refuse.
+
+His love for Elizabeth--that love which had sprung into being almost as
+soon as he beheld her, and which had grown with every hour spent in her
+company--was one of those deep and overmastering passions which a man
+can feel but once in a lifetime, and which many men never feel at all.
+If Brian had lived his life in London and at Netherglen with no great
+shock, no terrible grief, no overthrow of all his hopes, he might not
+have experienced this glow and thrill of passionate emotion; he might
+have walked quietly into love, made a suitable marriage, and remained
+ignorant to his life's end of the capabilities for emotion which existed
+within him. But, as often happens immediately after the occurrence of a
+great sorrow or recovery from a serious illness, his whole being seemed
+to undergo a change. When the strain of anxiety and prolonged anguish of
+mind was relaxed, the claims of youth re-asserted themselves. With
+returning health and strength there came an almost passionate
+determination to enjoy as much as remained to be enjoyed in life. The
+sunshine, the wind, the sea, the common objects of Nature,
+
+    "To him were opening Paradise."
+
+And when, for the first time, Love also entered into his life, the world
+seemed to be transfigured. Although he had suffered much and lost much,
+he found it possible to dream of a future in which he might make for
+himself a home, and know once more the meaning of happiness. Was he
+selfish in hoping that life still contained a true joy for him, in spite
+of the sorrows that fate had heaped upon his head, as if she meant to
+overwhelm him altogether? At least, the hope was a natural one, and
+showed courage and resolution. He clung to it desperately, fiercely; he
+felt that after all he had lost he could not bear to let it go. The hope
+was too sweet--the chance of happiness too beautiful--to be lost. He
+felt as if he had a right to this one blessing. He had lost all beside.
+But, perhaps, this was a presumptuous mood, destined to rebuke and
+disappointment.
+
+The fourth day after his arrival dawned, and he had not yet perceived,
+in his blindness of heart, the difference of position between the
+Elizabeth of his dreams and the Elizabeth of reality. Could the crisis
+be averted very much longer?
+
+He fancied that Elizabeth was colder to him after that little scene in
+the study than she had ever been before. She looked pale and dispirited,
+and seemed to avoid speaking to him or meeting his eye. At
+breakfast-time that morning he noticed that she allowed a letter that
+had been brought to her to lie unopened beside her plate "It's from
+Percival, isn't it?" said Kitty, thoughtlessly. "You don't seem to be
+very anxious to read it." Elizabeth made no answer, but the colour rose
+to her cheek and then spread to the very roots of her golden-brown hair.
+Brian noticed the blush, and for the first time felt his heart contract
+with a bitter pang of jealousy. What right had Percival Heron to write
+letters to Elizabeth? Why did she blush when she was asked a question
+about a letter from him?
+
+The whole party set off soon after ten o'clock for an expedition to a
+little loch amongst the hills. They intended to lunch beside the loch,
+then to enjoy themselves in different ways: Mr. Heron meant to sketch;
+Mrs. Heron took a novel to read; the others proposed to visit a spring
+at some little distance known as "The Wishing Well." This programme was
+satisfactorily carried out; but it chanced that Kitty and the boys
+reached the well before the others, and then wandered away to reach a
+further height, so that Brian and Elizabeth found themselves alone
+together beside the Wishing Well.
+
+It was a lonely spot from which nothing but stretches of barren moor and
+rugged hills could be discerned. One solitary patch of verdure marked
+the place where the rising spring had fertilised the land; but around
+this patch of green the ground was rich only in purple heather. Not even
+a hardy pine or fir tree broke the monotony of the horizon. Yet, the
+scene was not without its charm. There was grandeur in the sweep of the
+mountain-lines; there was a wonderful stillness in the sunny air, broken
+only by the buzz of a wandering bee and the trickle of the stream; there
+was the great arch of blue above the moor, and the magical tints of
+purple and red that blossoming heather always brings out upon the
+mountain-sides. The bareness of the land was forgotten in its wealth of
+colouring; and perhaps Brian and Elizabeth were not wrong when they said
+to each other that Italy had never shown them a scene that was half so
+fair.
+
+The water of the spring fell into a carved stone basin, which, tradition
+said, had once been the font of an old Roman Catholic chapel, of which
+only a few scattered stones remained. People from the surrounding
+districts still believed in the efficacy of its waters for the cure of
+certain diseases; and the practice of "wishing," which gave the well its
+name, was resorted to in sober earnest by many a village boy and girl.
+Elizabeth and Brian, who had hitherto behaved in a curiously grave and
+reserved manner to each other, laughed a little as they stood beside the
+spring and spoke of the superstition.
+
+"We must try it," said Elizabeth, looking down into the sparkling water.
+"A crooked pin must be thrown in, and then we must silently wish for
+anything we especially desire, and, of course, we shall obtain it."
+
+"Quite worth trying, if that is the case," said Brian. "But--I have
+tried the experiment before."
+
+"Here?"
+
+"Yes, here."
+
+"I did not know that you had been to Dunmuir before."
+
+"My wish did not come to pass," remarked Brian; "but there is no reason
+why you should not be more successful than I was, Miss Murray. And I
+feel a certain sort of desire to try once again."
+
+"Here is a crooked pin," said Elizabeth. "Drop it into the water."
+
+"Are you going to try?" he asked, when the ceremony had been performed.
+
+"There is nothing that I wish for very greatly."
+
+"Nothing? Ah, I have one wish--only one."
+
+"I am unfortunate in that I have none," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Then give me the benefit of your wishes. Wish that my wish may be
+fulfilled," said Brian.
+
+She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, and threw a crooked pin into
+the water.
+
+"I have wished," she said, as she watched it sink, "but I must not say
+what I wish: that breaks the charm."
+
+"Sit down and rest," said Brian, persuasively, as she turned away.
+"There is a little shade here; and the others will no doubt join us
+by-and-bye. You must be tired."
+
+"I am not tired, but I will sit down for a little while," said
+Elizabeth.
+
+She seated herself on a stone beside the well; and Brian also sat down,
+but rather below her, so that he seemed to be sitting at her feet, and
+could look up into her face when he spoke. He kept silence at first, but
+said at last, with gentle deference of tone:--
+
+"Miss Murray, there was something that you said you would tell me when
+you had the opportunity."
+
+She paused before she answered.
+
+"Not just now," he understood her to say at last, but her words were low
+and indistinct.
+
+"Then--may I tell you something?"
+
+She spoke more clearly in reply.
+
+"I think not."
+
+"Forgive me for saying so, but you must hear it some time. Why not now?"
+
+She did not speak. Her colour varied a little, and her brows contracted
+with a slight look of pain.
+
+"I do not know how to be silent any longer," he said, raising his eyes
+to her face, with a grave and manly resolve in their brown depths. "I
+have thought a great deal about it--about you; and it seems to me that
+there is no real reason why I should not speak. You are of age; you can
+do as you please; and I could work for both--because--Elizabeth--I love
+you."
+
+It was brokenly, awkwardly said, after all; but more completely uttered,
+perhaps, than if he had told his tale at greater length, for then he
+would have been stopped before he reached the end. As it was,
+Elizabeth's look of terror and dismay brought him to a sudden pause.
+
+"Oh, no!" she said, "no; you don't mean that. Take back what you have
+said, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"I cannot take it back," he said, quickly, "and I would not if I could;
+because you love me, too."
+
+The conviction of his words made her turn pale. She darted a distressed
+look at him, half-rose from her seat, and then sat down again. Twice she
+tried to speak and failed, for her tongue clove to the roof of her
+mouth. But at last she found her voice.
+
+"You do not know," she said, hurriedly and hoarsely, "that I am engaged
+to my cousin Percival."
+
+He rose to his feet, and withdrew two or three paces, looking down on
+her in silent consternation. She did not lift her eyes, but she felt
+that his gaze was upon her. It seemed to pierce to the very marrow of
+her bones, to the bottom of her heart.
+
+"Is this true?" he said at last, in a voice as changed as her own had
+been--hoarse and broken almost beyond recognition. "And you never told
+me?"
+
+"Why should I have told you? Only my uncle knows. It was a secret," she
+answered, in a clearer and colder tone. "I am sorry you did not know."
+
+"So am I. God knows that I am sorry," said the young man, turning away
+to hide the look of bitter despair and disappointment, which he could
+not help but feel was too visibly imprinted on his face. "For if I had
+known, I might never have dared to love you. If I had known, I should
+never have dreamt of you as my wife."
+
+At the sound of these two words, a shiver ran through her frame, as if a
+cold wind had blown over her from the mountain-heights above. She did
+not speak, however, and Brian went on in the low, difficult voice which
+told the intensity of his feelings more clearly than his words.
+
+"I have been blind--mad, perhaps--but I thought that there was a hope
+for me. I fancied that you cared for me a little, that you guessed what
+I felt--that you, perhaps, felt it also. Oh, you need not tell me that I
+have been presumptuous. I see it now. But it was my one hope in life--I
+had nothing left; and I loved you."
+
+His voice sank; he still stood with his face averted; a bitter silence
+fell upon him. For the moment he thought of the many losses and sorrows
+that he had experienced, and it seemed to him that this was the
+bitterest one of all. Elizabeth sat like a statue; her face was pale,
+her under-lip bitten, her hands tightly clasped together. At the end of
+some minutes' silence she roused herself to speak. There was an accent
+of hurt pride in her voice, but there was a tremor, too.
+
+"I gave you no reason to think so, Mr. Stretton," she said.
+
+"No," he answered, still without turning round. "I see now; I made a
+mistake."
+
+"That you should ever have made the mistake," said Elizabeth, slowly,
+"seems to me----"
+
+She did not finish the sentence. She spoke so slowly that Brian found it
+easy to interrupt her. He turned and broke impetuously into the middle
+of her phrase.
+
+"It seems an insult--I understand. But I do not mean it as an insult. I
+mean it only as a tribute to your exquisite goodness, your sweetness,
+which would not let me pass upon my way without a word of kindly
+greeting--and yet what can I say, for I did not misunderstand that
+kindliness. I was not such a fool as to do that! No, I never really
+hoped; I never thought that you could for a moment look at me; believe
+me when I say that, even in my wildest dreams, I knew myself to be far,
+infinitely far, below you, utterly unworthy of your love, Elizabeth."
+
+"No, no," she murmured, "you must not say that."
+
+"But I do say it, and I mean it. I only ask to be forgiven for that wild
+dream--it lasted but for a moment, and there was nothing in it that
+could have offended even you, I think; nothing but the love itself. And
+I believe in a man's right to love the woman who is the best, the most
+beautiful, the noblest on earth for him, even if she were the Queen
+herself! If you think that I hoped where I ought to have despaired,
+forgive me; but don't say you forgive me for merely loving you; I had
+the right, to do that."
+
+She altered her attitude as he spoke. Her hands were now before her
+face, and he saw that the tears were trickling between her fingers. All
+the generosity of the man's nature was stirred at the sight.
+
+"I am very sorry that I have distressed you," he said. "I am sorry that
+I spoke so roughly--so hastily--at first. Trust me when I say that I
+will not offend in the same way again."
+
+She lifted her face a little, and tried to wipe away her tears. "I am
+not offended, Mr. Stretton," she said. "You mistake me--I am only
+sorry--deeply sorry--that I--if I--have misled you in any way."
+
+"Oh, you did not mislead me, Miss Murray," replied Brian, gently; "it
+was my own folly that was to blame. But since I have spoken, may I say
+something more? I should like, if possible, to justify myself a little
+in your eyes."
+
+She bowed her head. "Will you not sit down?" she said, softly. "Say what
+you like; or, at least, what you think best."
+
+He did not sit down exactly, but he came back to the stone on which he
+had been sitting at her feet, and dropped on one knee upon it.
+
+"Let me speak to you in this way, as a culprit should speak," he said,
+with a faint smile which had in it a gleam of some slightly ironical
+feeling, "and then you can pardon or condemn me as you choose."
+
+"If you feel like a culprit you condemn yourself," said Elizabeth,
+lifting her eyes to his.
+
+"I do not feel like a culprit, Miss Murray. I have, as I said before, a
+perfect right to love you if I choose----" Elizabeth's eyes fell, and
+the colour stole into her cheeks--"I would maintain that right against
+all the world. But I want you to be merciful: I want you to listen for a
+little while----"
+
+"Not to anything that I ought not to hear, Mr. Stretton."
+
+"No: to nothing that would wrong Mr. Percival Heron even by a thought.
+Only--it is a selfish wish of mine; but I have been misjudged a good
+deal in my life, and I do not want you to misjudge me--I should like you
+to understand how it was that I dared--yes, I dared--to love you. May I
+speak?"
+
+"I don't know whether I ought to listen. I think I ought to go," said
+Elizabeth, with an irrepressible little sob. "No, do not speak--I cannot
+bear it."
+
+"But in justice to me you ought to listen," said Brian, gently, and yet
+firmly. He laid one hand upon hers, and prevented her from rising. "A
+few words only," he said, in pleading tones. "Forgive me if I say I must
+go on. Forgive me if I say you must listen. It is for the last--and the
+only--time."
+
+With a great sigh she sank back upon the stone seat from which she had
+tried to rise. Brian still held her hand. She did not draw it away. The
+lines of her face were all soft and relaxed; her usual clearness of
+purpose had deserted her. She did not know what to do.
+
+"If you had loved me, Elizabeth--let me call you Elizabeth just for
+once; I will not ask to do it again--or if you had even been free--I
+would have told you my whole history from beginning to end, and let you
+judge how far I was justified in taking another name and living the life
+I do. But I won't lay that burden upon you now. It would not be fair. I
+think that you would have agreed with me--but it is not worth while to
+tell you now."
+
+"I am sure that you would not have acted as you did without a good and
+honourable motive," said Elizabeth, trembling, though she did not know
+why.
+
+"I acted more on impulse than on principle, I am afraid,", he answered.
+"I was in great trouble, and it seemed easier--but I saw no reason
+afterwards to change my decision. Elizabeth, my friends think me dead,
+and I want them to think so still. I had been accused of a crime which I
+did not commit--not publicly accused, but accused in my own home by
+one--one who ought to have known me better; and I had inadvertently--by
+pure accident, remember--brought great misery and sorrow upon my house.
+In all this--I could swear it to you, Elizabeth--I was not to blame. Can
+you believe my word?"
+
+"I can, I do."
+
+"God bless you for saying so, my love--the one love of my
+life--Elizabeth! Forgive me: I will not say it again. To add to my
+troubles, then, I found reason to believe that I had no right to the
+name I bore, that I was of a different family, a different race,
+altogether; that it would simplify the disposal of certain property if I
+were dead; and so--I died. I disappeared. I can never again take the
+name that once was mine."
+
+He said all this, but no suspicion of the truth crossed Elizabeth's
+mind. That she was the person who had benefited by his disappearance was
+as far from her thoughts as from Brian's at that moment. That he was the
+Brian Luttrell of whom she had so often heard, whose death in the Alps
+had seemed so certain that even the law courts had been satisfied that
+she might rightfully inherit his possessions, that he--John Stretton,
+the boys' tutor--could be this dead cousin of her's, was too incredible
+a thought ever to occur to her. She felt nothing but sorrow for his past
+troubles, and a conviction that he was perfectly in the right.
+
+"But you are deceiving your friends," she said.
+
+"For their good, as I firmly believe," answered Brian, sorrowfully. "If
+I went back to them, I should cause a great deal of confusion and
+distress: I should make my so-called heirs uncomfortable and unhappy,
+and, as far as I can see, I should have no right to the property that
+they would not consent to retain if I were living."
+
+"Yes--if I am dead, and if no one else appears to claim it. It is a
+complicated business, and one that would take some time to explain. Let
+it suffice that I was utterly hopeless, utterly miserable, when I cast
+away what had always seemed to me to be my birthright; that I was then
+for many months very ill; and that, when you met me in Italy, I was just
+winning my way back to health, and repose of mind and body. And then--do
+you remember how you looked and spoke to me? Of course, you do not know.
+You were good, and sweet, and kind: you stretched out your hand to aid a
+fallen man, for I was poorer and more friendless than you knew; and from
+the moment when you said you trusted me, as we sat together on the bench
+upon the cliffs my whole soul went out to you, Elizabeth, and I loved
+you as I never had loved before--as I never shall love again."
+
+"In time," she murmured, "you will learn to care for someone else, in
+time you will forget me."
+
+"Forget you! I can never forget you, Elizabeth. Your trust in me--an
+unknown, friendless man, your goodness to me, your sweet pity for me,
+will never be forgotten. Can you wonder if I loved you, and if I thought
+that my love must surely have betrayed itself? I fancied that you
+guessed it----"
+
+"No, no," she said, hurriedly. "I did not guess. I did not think. I only
+knew that you were a kind friend to me, and taught me and helped me in
+many ways. I have been often very lonely--I never had a friend."
+
+"Is Percival Heron, then, no friend to you?" he asked, with something of
+indignant sternness in his voice.
+
+"Ah, yes, he is a friend; but not--not--I cannot tell you what he
+is----"
+
+"But you love him?" cried Brian, the sternness changing to anguish, as
+the doubt first presented itself to him. "Elizabeth, do not tell me that
+you have promised yourself to a man that you do not love! I may be
+miserable; but do not let me think that you will be miserable, too."
+
+He caught both her hands in his and looked her steadily in the face. "I
+have heard them say that you never told a lie in all your life," he went
+on. "Speak the truth still, Elizabeth, and tell me whether you love
+Percival Heron as a woman should love a man! Tell me the truth."
+
+She shrank a little at first, and tried to take her hands away. But when
+she found that Brian's clasp was firm, she drew herself up and looked
+him in the face with eyes that were full of an unutterable sadness, but
+also of a resolution which nothing on earth could shake.
+
+"You have no right to ask me the question," she said; "and I have no
+right to give you any answer."
+
+But something in her troubled face told him what that answer would have
+been.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+"GOOD-BYE."
+
+
+"I see," he said, dropping her hands and turning away with a heavy sigh.
+"I was too late."
+
+"Don't misunderstand me," said Elizabeth, with an effort. "I shall be
+very happy. I owe a debt to my uncle and my cousins which scarcely
+anything can repay."
+
+"Give them anything but yourself" he said, gravely. "It is not right--I
+do not speak for myself now, but for you--it is not right to marry a man
+whom you do not love."
+
+"But I did not say that I do not love him," she cried, trying to shield
+herself behind this barrier of silence. "I said only that you had no
+right to ask the question."
+
+Brian looked at her and paused.
+
+"You are wrong," he said at last, but so gently that she could not take
+offence. "Surely one who cares for you as I do may know whether or not
+you love the man that you are going to marry. It is no unreasonable
+question, I think, Elizabeth. And if you do not love him, then again I
+say that you are wrong and that it is not like your brave and honest
+self to be silent."
+
+"I cannot help it," she said, faintly. "I must keep my word."
+
+"You are the best judge of that," he answered. But there was a little
+coldness in his tone.
+
+"Yes, I am the best judge," she went on more firmly. "I have promised;
+and I will not break the promise that I have made. I told you before how
+much I consider that I owe to them. Now that I have the chance of doing
+a thing that will benefit, not only Percival, but all of them--from a
+worldly point of view, I mean--I cannot bear to think of drawing back
+from what I said I would do."
+
+"How will it benefit them?"
+
+"In a very small way, no doubt," she said, looking aside, so that she
+might not see the mute protest of his face; "because worldly prosperity
+is a small thing after all; but if you had seen, as I have, what it was
+to my uncle to live in a poverty-stricken, sordid way, hampered with
+duns and debts, and Percival harassing himself with vain endeavours to
+set things straight, and the children feeling the sting of poverty more
+and more as they grew older--and then to know that one has the power in
+one's hands of remedying everything, without giving pain or hurting any
+one's pride, or----"
+
+"I am sorry," said Brian, as she hesitated for a word. "But I do not
+understand."
+
+"Why not!"
+
+"How can you set things straight? And how is it that things want setting
+straight? Mr. Heron is--surely--a rich man."
+
+She laughed; even in the midst of her agitation, she laughed a soft,
+pleasant, little laugh.
+
+"Oh, I forgot," she said, suddenly. "You do not know. I found out on the
+day you came that you did not know."
+
+"Did not know--what?"
+
+She raised her eyes to his face, and spoke with gravity, but great
+sweetness.
+
+"Nobody meant to deceive you," she said; "in fact, I scarcely know how
+it is that you have not learnt the truth--partly; I suppose, because in
+Italy I begged them not to tell anybody the true state of the case; but,
+really, my uncle is not rich at all. He is a poor man. And Percival is
+poor, too--very poor," she added, with a lingering sigh over the last
+two words.
+
+"Poor! But--how could a poor man travel in Italy, and rent the Villa
+Venturi, say nothing of Strathleckie?"
+
+"He did not rent it. They were my guests."
+
+"Your guests? And what are they now, then?"
+
+"My guests still."
+
+Brian rose to his feet.
+
+"Then you are a rich woman?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is you, perhaps, who have paid me for teaching these boys?"
+
+"There is no disgrace in being paid for work that is worth doing and
+that is done well," said Elizabeth, flashing an indignant look at him.
+
+He bowed his head to the rebuke.
+
+"You are right, Miss Murray. But you will, I hope, do me the justice to
+see that I was perfectly ignorant of the state of affairs; that I was
+blind--foolishly blind----"
+
+"Not foolishly. You could not help it."
+
+"I might have seen. I might have known. I took you for----" And there
+Brian stopped, actually colouring at the thought of his mistake.
+
+"For the poor relation; the penniless cousin. But it was most natural
+that you should, and two years ago it would have been perfectly true. I
+have not been a rich woman for very many months, and I do not love my
+riches very much."
+
+"If I had known," began Brian; and then he burst out with a sudden
+change of tone. "Give them your riches, since they value them and you do
+not, and give yourself to me, Elizabeth. Surely your debt to them would
+then be paid."
+
+"What! by recompensing kindness with treachery?" she said, glancing at
+him mournfully. "No, that plan would not answer. The money is a small
+part of what I owe them. But I do sometimes wish that it had gone to
+anybody but me; especially when I remember the sad circumstances under
+which it became mine. When I think of poor Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen,
+I have never felt as if it were right to spend her sons' inheritance in
+what gave pleasure to myself alone."
+
+"Mrs. Luttrell of ---- But what have you to do with her?" said Brian,
+with a sudden fixity of feature and harshness of voice that alarmed
+Elizabeth. "Mrs. Luttrell of Netherglen! Good Heaven! It is not
+you--you--who inherited that property? The Luttrell-Murrays----"
+
+"I am the only Luttrell-Murray living," said Elizabeth.
+
+He stared at her dumbly, as if he could not believe his ears.
+
+"And you have the Luttrell estate?" he said at last.
+
+"I have."
+
+"I am glad of it," he answered; and then he put his hand over his eyes
+for a second or two, as if to shut out the light of day. "Yes, I am very
+glad."
+
+"What do you mean, Mr. Stretton?" said Elizabeth, who was watching him
+intently. "Do you know anything of my family? Do you know anything of
+the Luttrells?"
+
+"I have met some of them," he answered, slowly. His face was paler than
+usual, and his eyes, after one hasty glance at her, fell to the ground.
+"It was a long time ago. I do not know them now."
+
+"You said you had been here before. You----"
+
+"Miss Murray, don't question me as to how I knew them. You cannot guess
+what a painful subject it is to me. I would rather not discuss it."
+
+"But, Mr. Stretton----"
+
+"Let me tell you something else," he said, hastily, as if anxious to
+change the subject. "Let me ask you--as you are the arbitress of my
+destiny, my employer, I may call you--when you will let me go. Could the
+boys do without me at once, do you think? You would soon find another
+tutor."
+
+"Mr. Stretton! Why should you go? Do you mean to leave us?" exclaimed
+Elizabeth. "Oh, surely it is not necessary to do that!"
+
+"Do you think it would be so easy for me, then, to take money from your
+hands after what has passed between us?"
+
+"Money is a small thing," said she.
+
+"Money! yes; but there are other things in the world beside money. And
+it is better that I should go away from you now. It is not for my peace
+to see you every day, and know that you are to marry Percival Heron.
+Cannot you guess what pain it is to me?"
+
+"But the children: you have no love for them, then. I thought that you
+did love our little Jack--and they are so fond of you."
+
+"Don't try to keep me," he said, hoarsely. "It is hard enough to say
+good-bye without having to refuse you anything. The one thing now for
+which I could almost thank God is that you never loved me, Elizabeth."
+
+She shivered, and drew a long, sobbing breath. Her face looked pale and
+cold: her voice did not sound like itself as she murmured--
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because--no, I can't tell you why. Think for yourself of a reason. It
+is not that I love you less; and yet--yet--not for the world would I
+marry you now that I know what I know."
+
+"You would not marry me because I am rich: that is it, is it not?" she
+asked him. "I knew that some men were proud; but I did not think that
+you would be so proud."
+
+"What does it signify? There is no chance of your marrying me; you are
+going to marry another man--whom you do not love; we may scarcely ever
+see each other again after to-day. It is better so."
+
+"If I were free," she said, slowly, "and if--if--I loved you, you would
+be doing wrong to leave me because--only because--I was a little richer
+than you. I do not think that that is your only motive. It is since you
+heard that I was one of the Luttrell-Murrays that you have spoken in
+this way."
+
+"What if it were? The fact remains," he said, gloomily. "You do not care
+for me; and I--I would give my very soul for you, Elizabeth. I had
+better go. Think of me kindly when I am away--that is all. I see Miss
+Heron and the boys on the brow of the hill signalling to us. Will you
+excuse me if I say good-bye to you now, and walk back towards
+Strathleckie?"
+
+"Must it be now?" she said, scarcely knowing what the words implied. She
+turned her face towards him with a look that he never forgot--a look of
+inexpressible regret, of yearning sweetness, of something only too like
+the love that he thought he had failed to win. It caused him to turn
+back and to lean over her with a half-whispered question--
+
+"Would it have been possible, Elizabeth, if we had met earlier, do you
+think that you ever could have loved me?"
+
+"Do you think you ought to ask me?"
+
+"Ah, give me one word of comfort before I go. Remember that I go for
+ever. It will do no one any harm. Could you have loved me, Elizabeth?"
+
+"I think I could," she murmured in so low a tone that he could hardly
+hear the words. He seized her hands and pressed them closely in his own;
+he could do no more, for the Herons were very near. "Good-bye, my love,
+my own darling!" were the last words she heard. They rang in her ears as
+if they had been as loud as a trumpet-call; she could hardly believe
+that they had not re-echoed far and wide across the moor. She felt giddy
+and sick. The last sight of his face was lost in a strange, momentary
+darkness. When she saw clearly again he was walking away from her with
+long, hasty strides, and her cousins were close at hand. She watched him
+eagerly, but he did not turn round. She knew instinctively that he had
+resolved that she should never see his face again.
+
+"What is the matter, Betty?" cried one of the children. "You look so
+white! And where is Mr. Stretton going? Mr. Stretton! Wait for us!"
+
+"Don't call Mr. Stretton," said Elizabeth, collecting her forces, and
+speaking as nearly as possible in her ordinary tone. "He wants to get
+back to Strathleckie as quickly as possible. I am rather tired and am
+resting."
+
+"You are not usually tired with so short a walk," said Kitty, glancing
+sharply at her cousin's pallid cheeks. "Are you not well?"
+
+"Yes, I am quite well," Elizabeth answered. "But I am very, very tired."
+
+And then she rose and made her way back to the loch-side, where Mr. and
+Mrs. Heron were still reposing. But her steps lagged, and her face did
+not recover its usual colour as she went home, for, as she had said, she
+was tired--strangely and unnaturally tired--and it was with a feeling of
+relief that she locked herself into her own room at Strathleckie, and
+gave way to the gathering tears which she had hitherto striven to
+restrain. She would willingly have stayed away from the dinner-table,
+but she was afraid of exciting remark. Her pale face and heavy eyelids
+excited remark as much as her absence would have done; but she did not
+think of that. Mr. Stretton, who usually dined with them, sent an excuse
+to Mrs. Heron. He had a headache, and preferred to remain in his own
+room.
+
+"It must have been the sun," said Mrs. Heron. "Elizabeth has a headache,
+too. Have you a headache, Kitty?"
+
+"Not at all, thank you," said Kitty.
+
+There was something peculiar in her tone, thought Elizabeth. Or was it
+only that her conscience was guilty, and that she was becoming apt to
+suspect hidden meanings in words and tones that used to be harmless and
+innocent enough? The idea was a degrading one to her mind. She hated the
+notion of having anything to conceal--anything, at least, beyond what
+was lawful and right. Her inheritance, her engagement to Percival, had
+been to some extent kept secret; but not, as she now said passionately
+to herself, not because she was ashamed of them. Now, indeed, she was
+ashamed of her secret, and there was nothing on earth from which she
+shrank so much as the thought of its being discovered.
+
+She went to bed early, but she could not sleep. The words that Brian had
+said to her, the answers that she had made to him, were rehearsed one
+after the other, turned over in her mind, commented on, and repeated
+again and again all through the night. She hardly knew the meaning of
+her own excitement of feeling, nor of the intense desire that possessed
+her to see him again and listen once more to his voice. She only knew
+that her brain was in a turmoil and that her heart seemed to be on fire.
+Sleep! She could not think of sleep. His face was before her, his voice
+was sounding in her ears, until the cock crew and the morning sunlight
+flooded all the room. And then for a little while, indeed, she slept,
+and dreamt of him.
+
+She awoke late and unrefreshed. She dressed leisurely, wondering
+somewhat at the vehemence of last night's emotion, but not mistress
+enough of herself to understand its danger. In that last moment of her
+interview with Brian she had given way far more than he knew. If he had
+understood and taken advantage of that moment of weakness, she would not
+have been able to refuse him anything. At a word she would have given up
+all for him--friends, home, riches, even her promise to Percival--and
+gone forth into the world with the man she loved, happier in her poverty
+than she had ever been in wealth. "Ask me no more, for at a touch I
+yield," was the silent cry of her inmost soul. But Brian had not
+understood. He did not dream that with Elizabeth, as with most women,
+the very weakest time is that which immediately follows the moment of
+greatest apparent strength. She had refused to listen to him at all--and
+after that refusal she was not strong, but weak in heart and will as a
+wearied child.
+
+Realising this, Elizabeth felt a sensation of relief and safety. She had
+escaped a great gulf--and yet--and yet--she had not reached that point
+of reasonableness and moderation at which she could be exactly glad that
+she had escaped.
+
+She made her way downstairs, and reached the dining-room to find that
+everyone but herself had breakfasted and gone out. She was too feverish
+to do more than swallow a cup of coffee and a little toast, and she had
+scarcely concluded her scanty meal before Mr. Heron entered the room
+with a disconcerted expression upon his face.
+
+"Do you know the reason of this freak of Stretton's, Elizabeth?" he
+asked almost immediately.
+
+"What do you mean, Uncle Alfred?"
+
+"I mean--has he taken a dislike to Strathleckie, or has anybody offended
+him? I can't understand it. Just when we were settling down so nicely,
+and found him such an excellent tutor for the boys! To run away after
+this fashion! It is too bad!"
+
+"Does Mr. Stretton think of leaving Strathleckie?" said Elizabeth, with
+her eyes bent steadfastly upon the table-cloth.
+
+"Think of leaving! My dear Lizzie, he has left! Gone: went this morning
+before any of us were down. Spoke to me last night about it; I tried to
+dissuade him, but his mind was quite made up."
+
+"What reason did he give?"
+
+"Well, he would not tell me the exact reason. I tried to find out, but
+he was as close as--as--wax," said Mr. Heron, trying to find a suitable
+simile. "He said he was much obliged to us all for our kindness to him;
+had no fault to find with anything or anybody; liked the place; but, all
+the same, he wanted to go, and go he must. I offered him double the
+salary--at least, I hinted as much: I knew you would not object, Lizzie
+dear, but it was no use. Partly family affairs; partly private reasons:
+that was all I could get out of him."
+
+Mr. Heron's long speech left Elizabeth the time to consider what to say.
+
+"It does not matter very much," she answered at length, indifferently:
+"we can find someone who will teach the boys quite as well, I have no
+doubt."
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Mr. Heron. "Well, perhaps so. But, you see, it
+is not always easy to get a tutor at this time of the year, Elizabeth;
+and, besides, we shall not find one, perhaps, so ready to read Italian
+with you, as Mr. Stretton used to do----"
+
+Oh, those Italian readings! How well she remembered them! How the
+interest which Mr. Stretton had from the first inspired in her had grown
+and strengthened in the hours that they spent together, with heads bent
+over the same page, and hearts throbbing in unison over the lines that
+spoke of Dante's Beatrice, or Petrarca's Laura! She shuddered at the
+remembrance, now fraught to her with keenest pain.
+
+"I shall not want to read Italian again," she said, rising from the
+table. "We had better advertise for a tutor, Uncle Alfred, unless you
+think the boys might run wild for a little while, or unless Percival can
+find us one."
+
+"Shall you be writing to Percival to-day, my dear?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Because you might mention that Mr. Stretton has left us. I am afraid
+that Percival will be glad," said Mr. Heron, with a little laugh; "he
+had an unaccountable dislike to poor Stretton."
+
+"Yes, Percival will be glad," said Elizabeth, turning mechanically to
+leave the room. At the door she paused. "Mr. Stretton left an address, I
+suppose?"
+
+"No, he did not. He said he would write to me when his plans were
+settled. And I'm sorry to say he would not take a cheque. I pressed it
+upon him, and finally left it on the table for him--where I found it
+again this morning. He said that he had no right to it, leaving as
+suddenly as he did--some crochet of that kind. I should think that
+Stretton could be very Quixotic if he chose."
+
+"When he writes," said Elizabeth, "you will send him the cheque, will
+you not, Uncle Alfred? I do not think that he is very well off; and it
+seems a pity that he should be in want of money for the sake of--of--a
+scruple."
+
+She did not wait for a reply, but closed the door behind her, and stood
+for a few moments in the hall, silently wondering what to do and where
+to go. Finally she put on her garden hat and went out into the grounds.
+She felt that she must be alone.
+
+A sort of numbness came over her. He had gone, without a word, without
+making any effort to see her again. His "Good-bye" had been spoken in
+solemn earnest. He had been stronger than Elizabeth; although in
+ordinary matters it might be thought that her nature was the stronger of
+the two. There was nothing, therefore, for her to say or do; she could
+not write to him, she could not call him back. If she could have done so
+she would. She had never known before what it was to hunger for the
+sight of a beloved face, to think of the words that she might have said,
+and long to say them. She did not as yet know by what name to call her
+misery. Only, little by little she woke up to the fact that it was what
+people meant when they spoke of love. Then she began to understand her
+position. She had promised to marry Percival Heron, but her heart was
+given to the penniless tutor who called himself John Stretton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+A COVENANT.
+
+
+Brian had no fixed notion of what he should do, but he thought it better
+to go to London, where he could more easily decide on his future
+movements. He was in no present difficulty, for the liberal salary which
+he had received from the Herons during the past few months was almost
+untouched, and although he had just now a morbid dislike to touching the
+money that had come to him through Elizabeth's generosity, he had the
+sense to see that he must make use of it, and turn it to the best
+possible account.
+
+In the course of his journey he bought a newspaper. His eyes fell almost
+immediately upon a paragraph which caused him some amazement.
+
+"Mysterious Case of Attempted Murder.--A young man of respectable
+appearance was discovered early this morning in a state of complete
+insensibility at the end of a passage leading out of Mill-street,
+Blackfriars. He was found to have received a severe wound, presumably
+with a knife, in the left side, and had lost a considerable amount of
+blood, but, although weak, was still living. His watch and purse had not
+been abstracted, a fact which points to the conclusion either that the
+wound was inflicted by a companion in a drunken brawl, or that the thief
+was disturbed in his operations before the completion of the work. The
+young man speaks a little English as well as Italian, but he has not yet
+been able to give a precise account of the assault committed upon him.
+It is thought that the police have a clue to the criminal. The name
+given in the gentleman's pocket-book is Vasari; and he has been removed
+to Guy's Hospital, where he is reported to be doing well."
+
+"Vasari! Dino Vasari! can it be he?" said Brian, throwing down his
+newspaper. "What brings him to London?"
+
+Then it occurred to him that Father Cristoforo's long letter might have
+contained information concerning Dino's visit to London: possibly he had
+been asked to do the young Italian some service, which, of course, he
+had been unable to render as he had not read the letter. He felt doubly
+vexed at his own carelessness as he thought of this possibility, and
+resolved to go to the hospital and see whether the man who had been
+wounded was Dino Vasari or not. And then he forgot all about the
+newspaper paragraph, and lost himself in sad reflections concerning the
+unexpected end of his connection with the Herons.
+
+Arrived in London, he found out a modest lodging, and began to arrange
+his plans for the future. A fit of restlessness seemed to have come upon
+him. He could not bear to think of staying any longer in England. He
+paid a visit next morning to an Emigration Agency Office, asking whether
+the agents could direct him to the best way of obtaining suitable work
+in the Colonies. He did not care where he went or what he did; his
+preference was for work in the open air, because he still at times felt
+the effect of that brain-fever which had so nearly ended his existence
+at San Stefano; but his physique was not exactly of the kind which was
+most suited to bush-clearing and sheep-farming. This he was told, and
+informed, moreover, that so large a number of clerks arrived yearly in
+Australia and America, that the market in that sort of labour was
+over-stocked, and that, if he was a clerk, he had a better chance in the
+Old World than in the New.
+
+"I am not a clerk; I have lately been a tutor," said Brian.
+
+References?
+
+He could refer them to his late employer.
+
+A degree? Oxford or Cambridge?
+
+And there the questions ceased to be answered satisfactorily. He could
+not tell them that he had been to Oxford, because he dared not refer
+them to the name under which he studied at Balliol. He hesitated,
+blundered a little--he certainly had never mastered the art of lying
+with ease and fluency--and created so unfavourable an impression in the
+mind of the emigration agent that that gentleman regarded him with
+suspicion from that moment, and apparently ceased to wish to afford him
+any aid.
+
+"I am very sorry," he said, politely, "but I don't think that we have
+anything that would suit you. There is a college at Dunedin where they
+want a junior master, but there, a man with a good degree
+and--hum--unimpeachable antecedents would be required. People out there
+are in want of men with a trade: not of clerks, nor of poor professional
+men."
+
+"Then I must go as a hodman or a breaker of stones," said Brian, "for I
+mean to go."
+
+"I don't think that that employment is one for which you are especially
+fitted, Mr. Smith," said the agent, with a slight smile. Brian had
+impatiently given the name of Smith in making his application, and the
+agent, who was a man of wide experience, did not believe that it was his
+own; "but, of course, if you like to try it, you can look at these
+papers about 'assisted passages.'"
+
+"Thank you, that is not necessary," answered Brian, rather curtly. "A
+steerage passage to Australia does not cost a fortune. If I go out as a
+labouring man I think I can manage it. But I am obliged to you for your
+kindness in answering my questions."
+
+He had resumed his usual manner, which had been somewhat ruffled by the
+tone taken by the agent, and now asked one or two practical questions
+respecting the fares, the lines of steamers, and matters of that kind;
+after which he bade the agent a courteous good-morning and went upon his
+way.
+
+He foresaw that the inevitable cloud hanging over his past story would
+prove a great obstacle to his obtaining employment in the way he
+desired. Any work requiring certificates or testimonials was utterly out
+of the question for him in England. In Australia or New Zealand things
+might be different. He had no great wish to go to America--he had once
+spent a summer holiday in the Eastern States, and did not fancy that
+they would be agreeable places of residence for him in his present
+circumstances, and he had no great desire to "go West;" besides, he had
+a wish to put as great a distance as possible between himself and
+England. As he walked away from the emigration office he made up his
+mind to take the first vessel that sailed for Sydney.
+
+He had nothing to do. He wanted to divert his mind from thoughts of
+Elizabeth. It flashed across his mind that he would go to the hospital
+and inquire after the man who had been stabbed, and who called himself
+Vasari.
+
+He made his request to see the patient, and was admitted with such
+readiness that he suspected the case to be a dangerous one. And, indeed,
+the house-surgeon acknowledged this to be so. The stab, he said, had
+gone wonderfully near the vital parts; a hair's-breadth deviation to the
+right or left, and Vasari would have been a dead man. It was still
+uncertain whether he would recover, and all agitation must be avoided,
+as he was not allowed either to move or speak.
+
+"I am not sure whether he is the young man I used to know or not," said
+Brian, doubtfully. "Vasari--was there a Christian name given as well?"
+
+"Yes: Bernardino, and in another place simply Dino. Was that the name of
+your friend?"
+
+"Yes, it was. If I saw him I should be sure. I don't suppose that my
+appearance would agitate him," said Brian, little suspecting the deep
+interest and importance which would attach to his visit in Dino's mind.
+
+"Come, then." And the surgeon led the way to the bed, hidden by a screen
+from the rest of the ward, where Dino lay.
+
+Brian passed with the nurse inside the screen, and looked pityingly at
+the patient.
+
+"Yes," he said, in a low tone, "it is the man I know."
+
+He thought that Dino was unconscious, but at the sound of his voice--low
+though it was--the patient opened his eyes, and fixed them upon Brian's
+face. Brian had said that his appearance would produce no agitation, but
+he was mistaken. A sudden change passed over that pale countenance.
+Dino's great dark eyes seemed to grow larger than ever; his face assumed
+a still more deathly tinge; the look of mingled anguish and horror was
+unmistakable. He tried to speak, he tried to rise in his bed, but the
+effort was too great, and he sank back insensible. The indignant nurse
+hustled Brian away, and would not allow him to return; he ought to have
+known, she said, that the sight of him would excite the patient. Brian
+had not known, and was grieved to think that his visit had been
+unacceptable. But that did not prevent him from writing an account of
+the state in which he had found Dino Vasari to his friend, Padre
+Cristoforo; nor from calling at the hospital every day to inquire after
+the state of his Italian friend. He was glad to hear at last that Dino
+was out of danger; then, that he was growing a little stronger; and then
+that he had expressed a desire to see the English gentleman when he
+called again.
+
+By this time he had, to some extent, changed his plans. Neither
+Australia nor New Zealand would be his destination. He had taken his
+passage in a vessel bound for Pernambuco, and a very short time remained
+to him in England. He was glad to think that he should see Dino before
+he went.
+
+He found the young man greatly altered: his eyes gleamed in orbits of
+purple shadow: his face was white and wasted. But the greatest change of
+all lay in this--that there was no smile upon his lips, no pleasure in
+his eyes, when he saw Brian draw near his bed.
+
+"Dino!" said Brian, holding out his hand. "How did you come here, amico
+mio?" And then he noticed the absence of any welcoming word or gesture
+on Dino's part. The large dark eyes were bent upon him questioningly,
+and yet with a proud reserve in their shadowy depths. And the
+blue-veined hands locked themselves together upon the coverlet instead
+of returning Brian's friendly grasp.
+
+"Why have you come?" said Dino, in a loud whisper. "What do you want?"
+
+"I want nothing save to ask how you are and to see you again," replied
+Brian, after a pause of astonishment.
+
+"If you want to alter your decision it is not yet too late. I have taken
+no steps towards the claiming of my rights."
+
+"His mind must be wandering," thought Brian to himself. He added aloud
+in a soothing tone, "I have made no decision about anything, Dino. Can I
+do anything for you?"
+
+Dino looked at him long and meditatively. Brian's face expressed some
+surprise, but perfect tranquility of mind. He had seated himself at
+Dino's bed-side, and was leaning his chin upon his hand and his elbow
+upon his crossed knees.
+
+"Why did you make Hugo Luttrell your messenger? Why not come to meet me
+yourself as Padre Cristoforo begged you to do?"
+
+Brian shook his head. "I don't think you had better talk, Dino," he
+said. "You are feverish, surely. I will come and see you again
+to-morrow."
+
+"No, no: answer my question first," said Dino, a slight flush rising to
+his thin cheeks. "Why could you not come yourself?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"When! You know."
+
+"Upon my honour, Dino, I don't know what you mean."
+
+"You--you--had a letter from Padre Cristoforo--about me?" said Dino,
+stammering with eagerness.
+
+Brian looked guilty. "I was a great fool, Dino," he said, penitently. "I
+had a letter from him, and I managed to lose it before I had read more
+than the first sheet, in which there was nothing about you. I suppose he
+told me in that letter why you came to London, and asked me to meet you
+or something; and I wish I had met you, if it would have prevented this
+unfortunate accident of yours, or whatever it was. My own carelessness
+is always to blame," said Brian, with a heavy sigh, "and I don't wonder
+that you look coldly upon me, Dino, when I seem to have done you such an
+unfriendly turn. But I don't think I need say that I never meant to do
+it."
+
+"How did you know that I was here?" asked Dino, with breathless
+interest.
+
+"I saw in the papers an account of your being found insensible from a
+wound in your side. The name Vasari was mentioned, and I came to see if
+it could possibly be you."
+
+Dino was silent for a few minutes. Then his face lighted up, his pale
+lips parted with a smile. "So you never read Father Cristoforo's
+letter?" he said. "And you sent me no message of reply?"
+
+"Certainly not. How could I, when I did not know that you were in
+England?"
+
+Dino held out his hands. "I misjudged you," he said, simply, "Will you
+forgive me and take my hand again?"
+
+Brian clasped his hand. "You know there's nothing to forgive," he said,
+with a smile. "But I am glad you don't think I neglected you on purpose,
+Dino. I had not forgotten those pleasant days at San Stefano."
+
+Dino smiled, too, but did not seem inclined to speak again. The nurse
+came to say that the interview had lasted long enough, and Brian took
+his leave, promising to come on the morrow, and struck with the look of
+perfect peace and quiet upon the placid face as it lay amongst the white
+pillows, almost as white as they.
+
+He had only a couple of days left before he was to start for Pernambuco,
+where he had heard of work that was likely to suit him. He had made his
+arrangements, taken his passage in the steerage: he had nothing to do
+now but to write a farewell letter to Mr. Heron, telling him whither he
+was bound, and another--should he write that other or should he not?--to
+Elizabeth. He felt it hard to go without saying one last farewell to
+her. The discovery that she was the heiress of his property had finally
+decided him to leave England. He dared not risk the chance of being
+recognised and identified, if such recognition and identification would
+lead to her poverty. For even if, by a deed of gift in his supposed name
+of Brian Luttrell, he devised his wealth to her, he knew that she would
+never consent to take it if he were still alive. The doubt thrown on his
+birth and parentage would not be conclusive enough in her mind to
+justify her in despoiling him of what all the judges in the land would
+have said was his birthright. But then Brian did not know that Vincenza
+Vasari had been found. The existence of another claimant to the Luttrell
+estate never troubled him in the least. He wronged nobody, he thought,
+by allowing Elizabeth Murray to suppose that Brian Luttrell was dead.
+
+He wrote a few lines to Mr. Heron, thanking him for his kindness, and
+informing him that he was leaving England for South America; and then he
+proceeded to the more difficult task of writing to Elizabeth. He
+destroyed many sheets of paper, and spent a great deal of time in the
+attempt, although the letter, as it stood at last, was a very simple
+affair, scarcely worthy of the pains that had been bestowed upon it.
+
+"Dear Miss Murray," he wrote, "when you receive this note I shall have
+left England, but I cannot go without one word of farewell. You will
+never know how much you did for me in those early days of our
+acquaintance in Italy; how much hope you gave me back, how much interest
+in life you inspired in me; but for all that you did I thank you. Is it
+too much to ask you to remember me sometimes? I shall remember you until
+the hour of my death. Forgive me if I have said too much. God bless you,
+Elizabeth! Let me write that name once, for I shall never write to you
+nor see your face again."
+
+He put no signature. He could not bear to use a false name when he wrote
+to her; and he was sure that she would know from whom the letter came.
+
+He went out and dropped it with his own hands into a letter-box; then he
+came back to his dreary lodgings, never expecting to find there anything
+of interest. But he found something that interested him very much
+indeed. He found a long and closely written letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano.
+
+Father Cristoforo could not resist the opportunity of lecturing his
+young friend a little. He gave him a good many moral maxims before he
+came to the story that he had to tell, and he pointed them by observing
+rather severely that if it were not for Brian's carelessness, his pupil
+might possibly have escaped the "accident" that had befallen him. For if
+Brian had met Dino in London on the appointed day, he would not have
+been wandering alone in the streets (as Father Cristoforo imagined him
+to have been) or fallen into the hands of thieves and murderers.
+
+With which prologue the Padre once more began his story. And this time
+Brian read it all.
+
+He put down the letter at last with a curious smile: the smile of a man
+who does not want to acknowledge that he suffers pain. "Dino," he said
+to himself, lingeringly. "Dino! It is he who is Brian Luttrell, then,
+after all. And what am I? And, oh, my poor Elizabeth! But she will only
+regret the loss of the money because she will no longer be able to help
+other people. The Herons will suffer more than she. And Percival Heron!
+How will it affect him? I think he will be pleased. Yes, I think he is
+disinterested enough to be thoroughly pleased that she is poor. I should
+be pleased, in his case.
+
+"There is no doubt about it now, I suppose," he said, beginning to pace
+up and down the little room, with slow, uneven steps and bent head. "I
+am not a Luttrell. I am a Vasari. My mother's name was Vincenza
+Vasari--a woman who lied and cheated for the sake of her child. And I
+was the child! Good God! how can it be that I have that lying blood in
+my veins? Yet I have no right to say so; it was all done for me--for
+me--who never knew a mother's love. Oh, mother, mother, how much happier
+your son would have been if you had reared him in the place where he was
+born, amongst the vines and olive-yards of his native land.
+
+"And I must see Dino to-morrow. So he knows the whole story. I
+understand now why he thought ill of me for not coming to meet him, poor
+fellow! I must go early to-morrow."
+
+He went, but as soon as he reached Dino's bed-side he found that he knew
+not what to say, Dino looked up at him with eyes full of grave, wistful
+affection, and suddenly smiled, as if something unwontedly pleasant had
+dawned upon his mind.
+
+"Ah," he said, "at last--you know."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Brian.
+
+"And you are sorry? I am sorry, too."
+
+"No," said Brian, finding it rather difficult to express himself at that
+moment; "I am not sorry that you are the man who will bear the name of
+Luttrell, that I have wrongly borne so long. I suppose--from what the
+Prior says--that your claim can be proved; if I were in my old position
+I should be the first to beg you to prove it, and to give up my name and
+place to you if justice required it. As it is, I do not stand in your
+way, because the old Brian Luttrell--the one who killed his brother, you
+know--is dead."
+
+"But if you were in your old position, could you still pardon me and be
+friendly with me, even if I claimed my rights?"
+
+"I hope so," said Brian. "I hope that I should not be so ungenerous as
+to look upon you as an enemy because you wished to take your own place
+amongst your own kindred. You ought rather to look upon me as your
+enemy, because I have occupied your place so long."
+
+"You are good--you are generous--you are noble!" said Dino, his eyes
+suddenly filling with tears. "If all the world were like you! And do you
+know what I shall do if the estate ever becomes mine? You shall take the
+half--you may take it all, if it please you better. But we will divide
+it, at any rate, and be to each other as brothers, shall we not? I have
+thought of you so often!"
+
+He spoke ardently, eagerly; pressing Brian's hands between his own from
+time to time. It was from an impulse as strong and simple as any of
+Dino's own that Brian suddenly stooped down and kissed him on the
+forehead. The caress seemed natural enough to Dino; it was as the
+ratification of some sacred bond to the English-bred Brian Luttrell.
+Henceforth, the two became to each other as brothers, indeed; the
+interests of one became the interests of the other. Before long, Dino
+learnt from Brian himself the whole of his sad story. He lay with
+shining eyes and parted lips, his hand clasped in Brian's, listening to
+his account of the events of the last two years. The only thing that
+Brian did not touch upon was his love for Elizabeth. That wound was too
+recent to be shown, even to Dino, who had leaped all at once, as it
+seemed, into the position of his bosom friend. But Dino guessed it all.
+
+As Brian walked back to his lodgings from the hospital, he was haunted
+by a verse of Scripture which had sprung up in his mind, and which he
+repeated with a certain sense of pleasure as soon as he recollected the
+exact words. "And it came to pass"--so ran the verse that he
+remembered--"when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul that the soul
+of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as
+his own soul." He liked the words. He looked them out in a Bible
+belonging to his landlady when he reached home, and he found another
+verse that touched him, too. "Then Jonathan and David made a covenant,
+because he loved him as his own soul."
+
+Had not Brian Luttrell and Dino Vasari made a covenant?
+
+The practical result of their friendship was an important one to Brian.
+He sacrificed his passage money, and did not sail on the following day
+for Pernambuco.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+ELIZABETH'S CONFESSION.
+
+
+"I wonder what she wants with me," said Percival Heron, meditatively. He
+was sitting at his solitary breakfast-table, having pushed from him an
+empty coffee-cup and several newspapers: a letter from Elizabeth was in
+his hands. It consisted of a few lines only, and the words that had
+roused his wonderment were these:--
+
+"I am very anxious to see you. Could you come down to Strathleckie at
+once? If not, pray come as soon as possible."
+
+"I suppose she is too true a woman to say exactly what she wants," said
+Percival, a gay smile curling his lips beneath his black moustache.
+"Perhaps she won't be very angry with me this time if I press her a
+little on the subject of our marriage. We parted on not very good terms
+last time, rather _en delicatesse_, if I'm not mistaken, after
+quarrelling over our old subject of dispute, the tutor. Well, my lady's
+behests are to be obeyed. I'll wire an acceptance of the invitation and
+start to-night."
+
+He made the long journey very comfortably, grumbling now and then in a
+good-tempered way at Elizabeth for sending for him in so abrupt a
+fashion; but on the whole he felt pleased that she had done so. It
+showed that she had confidence in him. And he was very anxious for the
+engagement to be made public: its announcement would be a sort of
+justification to him in allowing her to do as much as she had done for
+his family. Percival had, in truth, always protested against her
+generosity, but failed in persuading his father not to accept it. Mr.
+Heron was too simple-minded to see why he should not take Elizabeth's
+gifts, and Mrs. Heron did not see the force of Percival's arguments at
+all.
+
+"Elizabeth is not here, then," he said to Kitty, who met him at the
+station.
+
+"No," answered Kitty in rather a mysterious voice. "She wouldn't come."
+
+"Why wouldn't she come?" said Percival, sharply. He followed his sister
+into the waggonette as he spoke: he did not care about driving, and
+gladly resigned the reins to the coachman.
+
+"I can't tell you. I don't think she is well."
+
+"Not well? What's the matter?"
+
+"I don't know. She always has a headache. Did she want you to come,
+Percival?"
+
+"She wrote to ask me."
+
+"I'm glad of that."
+
+"Kitty, will you have the goodness to say what you mean, instead of
+hinting?"
+
+Kitty looked frightened.
+
+"I don't mean anything," she said, hurriedly, while a warm wave of
+colour spread itself over her cheeks and brow.
+
+"Don't mean anything? That's nonsense. You should not say anything then.
+Out with it, Kitty. What do you think is wrong with Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, Percival, don't be so angry with me," said Kitty, with the tears in
+her eyes. "Indeed, I scarcely meant to speak; but I did wish you to
+understand beforehand----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't think she wants to marry you." And then Kitty glanced up from
+under her thick, curling lashes, and was startled at the set and rigid
+change which suddenly came over her brother's features. She dared not
+say any more, and for some minutes they drove on in silence. Presently,
+Percival turned round to her with an icy sternness in his voice.
+
+"You should not say such things unless you have authority from Elizabeth
+to say them. Did she tell you to do so?"
+
+"No, no, indeed she did not," cried Kitty, "and, of course, I may be
+mistaken; but I came to see you, Percival, on purpose to tell you."
+
+"No woman is happy unless she is making mischief," said her brother,
+grimly.
+
+"You ought not to say that, Percival; it is not fair. And I must say
+what I came to say. Elizabeth is very unhappy about something. I don't
+know what; and after all her goodness to us you ought to be careful that
+you are not making her do anything against her will."
+
+"Did you ever know Elizabeth do anything against her will?"
+
+"Against her wishes, then," said Kitty, firmly, "and against the
+dictates of her heart."
+
+"'These be fine words, indeed!'" quoted Percival, with a savage laugh.
+"And who has taught you to talk about the 'dictates of her heart?' Leave
+Elizabeth and me to settle our affairs between ourselves, if you please.
+We know our duty to each other without taking advice from a little
+schoolgirl."
+
+Kitty stifled a sob. "If you break Elizabeth's heart," she said,
+vehemently, "you can't say I didn't warn you."
+
+Percival looked at her, stifled a question at the tip of his tongue, and
+clutched his newspaper viciously. It occurred to him that Kitty knew
+something, that she would never have uttered a mere vague suspicion; but
+he would not ask her a direct question. No, Elizabeth's face and voice
+would soon tell him whether she was unhappy.
+
+He was right. Kitty had seen the parting between Brian and Elizabeth;
+and she had guessed a great deal more than she saw. She spoke out of no
+desire to make mischief, but from very love for her cousin and care for
+her happiness; but when she noted Percival's black brows she doubted
+whether she had done right.
+
+Percival did not speak again throughout the drive. He sat with his eyes
+bent on his newspaper, his hand playing with his moustache, a frown on
+his handsome face. It was not until the carriage stopped at the door of
+Strathleckie, and he had given his hand to Kitty to help her down that
+he opened his lips.
+
+"Don't repeat what you have said to me to any other person, please."
+
+"Of course not, Percival."
+
+There was no time for more. The barking of dogs, the shouts of children,
+the greeting of Mr. Heron, prevented anything further. Percival looked
+round impatiently. But Elizabeth was not there.
+
+He was tired, although he would not confess it, with his night journey;
+and a bath, breakfast, and change of clothes did not produce their usual
+exhilarating effect. He found it difficult to talk to his father or to
+support the noise made by the children. Kitty's hint had put his mind
+into a ferment.
+
+"Can these boys not be sent to their lessons?" he said, at last,
+knitting his brows.
+
+"Oh, don't you know?" said Harry, cutting a delighted caper. "We have
+holidays now. Mr. Stretton has gone away. He went away a fortnight ago,
+or nearly three weeks now."
+
+Percival looked suddenly at Kitty, who coloured vividly.
+
+"Why did he go?" he asked.
+
+"I'm sure I can't tell you," said Mr. Heron, almost peevishly. "Family
+affairs, he said. And now he has gone to South America. I don't
+understand it at all."
+
+Neither did Percival.
+
+"Where is Elizabeth?" said Mr. Heron, looking round the room as if in
+search of her. "She can't know that Percival has come: go and tell her,
+one of you boys."
+
+"No, never mind," said Percival, quickly; but it was too late, the boy
+was gone.
+
+There was a little silence. Percival sat at one side of the
+whitely-draped table, with a luxurious breakfast before him and a great
+bowl of autumn flowers. The sunshine streamed in brightly through the
+broad, low windows; the pleasant room was fragrant with the scent of the
+burning wood upon the fire; the dogs wandered in and out, and stretched
+themselves comfortably upon the polished oak floor. Kitty sat in a
+cushioned window-seat and looked anxious; Mr. Heron stood by the
+fireplace and moved one of the burning logs in the grate with his foot.
+A sort of constraint had fallen over the little party, though nobody
+quite knew why; and it was not dispelled, even when Harry's footsteps
+were heard upon the stairs, and he threw open the door for Elizabeth.
+
+Percival threw down his serviette and started up to meet her. And then
+he knew why his father and sister looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth was
+changed; it was plain enough that Elizabeth must be ill.
+
+She was thinner than he had ever seen her, and her face had grown pale.
+But the fixed gravity and mournfulness of her expression struck him even
+more than the sharpened contour of her features or the dark lines
+beneath her eyes. She looked as if she suffered: as if she was suffering
+still.
+
+"You are ill!" he said, abruptly, holding her by the hand and looking
+down into her face.
+
+"That's what I've been saying all along!" muttered Mr. Heron. "I knew he
+would be shocked by her looks. You should have prepared him, Kitty."
+
+"I have had neuralgia, that is all," said Elizabeth, quietly.
+
+"Strathleckie does not suit you; you ought to go away," remarked
+Percival, devouring her with his eyes. "What have you been doing to
+yourself?"
+
+"Nothing: I am perfectly well; except for this neuralgia," she said,
+with a faint, vexed smile. "Did you have a comfortable journey, and have
+you breakfasted?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"Then you will come out with me for a little stroll? I want to show you
+the grounds; and the others can spare you to me for a little while," she
+went on, with perfect ease and fluency. The only change in her manner
+was its unusual gravity, and the fact that she did not seem able to meet
+Percival's eye. "Are you too tired?"
+
+"Not at all." And they left the room together.
+
+She took him down the hill on which the house stood, by a narrow,
+winding path, to the side of a picturesque stream in the valley below.
+He had seen the place before, but he followed her without a word until
+they reached a wooden seat close to the water's edge, with its back
+fixed to the steep bank behind it. The rowan trees, with their clusters
+of scarlet berries, hung over it, and great clumps of ferns stood on
+either hand. It was an absolutely lonely place, and Percival knew
+instinctively that Elizabeth had brought him to it because she could
+here speak without fear of interruption.
+
+"It is a beautiful place, is it not?" she said, as he took his seat
+beside her.
+
+He did not answer. He rather disdained the trivial question. He was
+silent for a few minutes, and then said briefly:--
+
+"Tell me why you wanted me."
+
+"I have been unhappy," she said, simply.
+
+"That is easy to be seen."
+
+"Is it? Oh, I am sorry for that. But I have had neuralgia. I have,
+indeed. That makes me look pale and tired."
+
+Percival threw his arm over the back of the seat with an impatient
+motion, and looked at the river. "Nothing else?" he asked, drily. "It
+seems hardly worth while to send for me if that was all. The doctor
+would have done better."
+
+"There is something else," said Elizabeth, in so quiet and even a voice
+as to sound almost indifferent.
+
+"Well, I supposed so. What is it?"
+
+"You are making it very hard for me to tell you, Percival," said she,
+with one of her old, straight glances. "What is it you know? What is it
+you suspect?"
+
+"Excuse me, Elizabeth, I have not said that I know or suspect anything.
+Everybody seems a little uncomfortable, but that is nothing. What is the
+matter?"
+
+As she did not answer, he turned and looked at her. Her face was pale,
+but there was a look of indomitable resolve about her which made him
+flinch from his purpose of maintaining a cold and reserved manner. A
+sudden fear ran through his heart lest Kitty's warning should be true!
+
+"Elizabeth," he said, quickly and passionately, "forgive me for the way
+in which I have spoken. I am an ill-tempered brute. It is my anxiety for
+you that makes me seem so savage. I cannot bear to see you look as you
+do: it breaks my heart!"
+
+Her lip trembled at this. She would rather that he had preserved his
+hard, sullen manner: it would have made it more easy for her to tell her
+story. She locked her hands closely together, and answered in low,
+hesitating tones:--
+
+"I am not worth your anxiety. I did not mean to be--untrue--to you,
+Percival. I suffered a great deal before I made up my mind that I had
+better tell you--everything."
+
+A tear fell down her pale cheek unheeded. Percival rose to his feet.
+
+"I don't think there is much to tell, is there?" he said. "You mean that
+you wish to give me up, to throw me over? Is that all?"
+
+His words were calm, but the tone of ironical bitterness in which they
+were uttered cut Elizabeth to the quick. She lifted her head proudly.
+
+"No," she said, "you are wrong. I wish nothing of the kind."
+
+He stood in an attitude of profound attention, waiting for her to
+explain. His face wore its old, rigid look: the upright line between his
+brows was very marked indeed. But he would not speak again.
+
+"Percival," she said--and her tone expressed great pain and profound
+self-abasement--"when I promised to marry you--someday, you will
+remember that I never said I loved you. I thought that I should learn to
+love in time. And so I did--but not--not you."
+
+"And who taught you the lesson that I failed to impart?" asked Percival,
+with the sneer in his voice which she knew and dreaded.
+
+"Don't ask me," she said, painfully. "It is not fair to ask me that. I
+did not know until it was too late."
+
+"Until he--whoever he was--asked you to marry him, I suppose? Well, when
+is the ceremony to take place? Do you expect me to dance at the wedding?
+Do you think I am going tamely to resign my rights? My God, Elizabeth,
+is it you who can treat me in this way? Are all women as false as you?"
+
+He struck his foot fiercely against the ground, and walked away from
+her. When he came back he found her in the same position; white as a
+statue, with her hands clasped together upon her knee, and her eyes
+fixed upon the running water.
+
+"Do you think that I am a stone," he said, violently, "that you tell me
+the story of your falseness so quietly, as if it were a tale that I
+should like to hear? Do you think that I feel nothing, or do you care so
+little what I feel? You had better have refused me outright at once than
+kept me dangling at your feet for a couple of years, only to throw me
+over at the last!"
+
+"I have not thrown you over," she said, raising her blue-grey eyes
+steadily to his agitated face. "I wanted to tell you; that was all. If
+you like to marry me now, knowing the truth, you may do so."
+
+"What!"
+
+"I may have been false to you in heart," she said, the hot blood tinting
+her cheeks with carnation as she spoke, "but I will not break my word."
+
+"And what did your lover say to that?" he asked, roughly, as he stood
+before her. "Did he not say that you were as false to him as you were to
+me? Did he not say that he would come back again and again, and force
+you to be true, at least, to him? For that is what I should have done in
+his place."
+
+"Then," Elizabeth said, with a touch of antagonism in her tones, "he was
+nobler than you."
+
+"Oh, no doubt," said Percival, tossing aside his head. "No doubt he is a
+finer fellow in every way. Am I to have the pleasure of making his
+acquaintance?"
+
+His scorn, his intolerance, were rousing her spirit at last. She spoke
+firmly, with a new light in her eyes, a new self-possession in her
+manner.
+
+"You are unjust, Percival. I think that you do not understand what I
+mean to tell you. He accepted my decision, and I shall never see him
+again. I thought at first that I would not tell you, but let our
+engagement go on quietly; and then again I thought that it would be
+unfair to you not to tell you the whole truth. I leave it to you to say
+what we should do. I have no love to give you--but you knew that from
+the first. The difference now is that I--I love another."
+
+Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she uttered the last few words,
+and she covered her face with her hands. Percival's brow cleared a
+little; the irony disappeared from his lips, the flash of scorn from his
+eye. He advanced to her side, and stood looking down at her for several
+minutes before he attempted any answer to her speech.
+
+"You mean to say," he began, in a softer tone, "that you rejected this
+man because you had given your promise to me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You sent him away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And he knew the reason? Did he know that you loved him, Elizabeth?"
+
+The answer was given reluctantly, after a long pause. "I do not know. I
+am afraid--he did."
+
+Percival drew a short, impatient breath. "You must forgive me if I was
+violent just now, Elizabeth. This is very hard to bear."
+
+"I dare not ask your pardon," she murmured, with her face still between
+her hands.
+
+"Oh, my pardon? That will do you little good," he said, contemptuously.
+"The question is--what is to be done? I suppose this man--this lover of
+yours--is within call, as it were, Elizabeth? You could summon him with
+your little finger? If I released you from this engagement to me, you
+could whistle him back to you next day?"
+
+"Oh, no," she said, looking up at him wonderingly. "He is gone away from
+England. I do not know where he is."
+
+"It is this man Stretton, then?" said Percival, quietly.
+
+A sudden rush of colour to her face assured him that he had guessed the
+truth. "I always suspected him," he muttered.
+
+"You had no need. He behaved as honourably as possibly. He did not know
+of my engagement to you."
+
+"Honourably? A penniless adventurer making love to one of the richest
+women in Scotland!"
+
+"You mistake, Percival. He did not know that I was rich."
+
+"A likely story!"
+
+"You insult him--and me," said Elizabeth, in a very low tone. "If you
+have no pity, have some respect--for him--if you have none for me." And
+then she burst into an agony of tears, such as he had never seen her
+shed before. But he was pitiless still. The wound was very deep: his
+pain very sharp and keen.
+
+"Have you had any pity for me?" he said. "Why should I pity him? To my
+mind, he is the most enviable man on earth, because he has your love.
+Respect him, when he has stolen from me the thing that I value more than
+my life! You do not know what you say."
+
+She still wept, and presently he sat down beside her and leaned his head
+on his hand, looking at her from out of the shadow made by his bent
+fingers above his eyes.
+
+"Let me understand matters clearly," he said. "You sent him away, and he
+has gone to America, never to return. Is that it? And you will marry me,
+although you do not love me, because you have promised to do so, if I
+ask you? What do you expect me to say?"
+
+She shook her head. She could not speak.
+
+"I am not generous," he went on deliberately. "You have known me long
+enough to be aware that I am a very selfish man. I will not give you up
+to Stretton. He is not the right husband for you. He is a man whom you
+picked up in the streets, without a character, without antecedents, with
+a history which he dares not tell. So much I gathered from my father. I
+say nothing about his behaviour in this case; he may have acted well, or
+he may have acted badly; I have no opinion to give. But you shall never
+be his wife."
+
+Elizabeth's tears were dried as if by magic. She sat erect, listening
+with set lips and startled eyes to the fierce energy of his tones.
+
+"I accept your sacrifice," he said. "You will thank me in the end that I
+did so. No, I do not release you from your engagement, Elizabeth. You
+have said that you would keep your word, and I hold you to it."
+
+He drew her to him with his arm, and kissed her cheek with passionate
+determination. She shrank away, but he would not let her go.
+
+"No," he proceeded, "you are my promised wife, Elizabeth. I have no
+intention of giving you up for Stretton or anybody else. I love you more
+than ever now that I see how brave and honest you can be. We will have
+no more concealments. When we go back to the house we will tell all the
+world of our engagement. It was the secrecy that worked this mischief."
+
+She wrenched herself away from him with a look of mingled pain and
+anger. "Percival!" she cried, "do you want to make me hate you?"
+
+"I would rather have hate than indifference," he answered. "And whether
+you hate me or not, Elizabeth, you shall be my wife before the year is
+out. I shall not let you go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.
+
+
+Percival had his way. He came back to the house looking stern and grim,
+but with a resolute determination to carry his point. In half-an-hour it
+was known throughout the whole household that Miss Murray was engaged to
+be married to young Mr. Heron, and that the marriage would probably take
+place before Christmas.
+
+Kitty cast a frightened glance at Elizabeth's face when the announcement
+was made, but gathered little from its expression. A sort of dull apathy
+had come over the girl--a reaction, perhaps, from the excitement of
+feeling through which she had lately passed. It gave her no pain when
+Percival insisted upon demonstrations of affection which were very
+contrary to her former habits. She allowed him to hold her hand, to kiss
+her lips, to call her by endearing names, in a way that would ordinarily
+have roused her indignation. She seemed incapable of resistance to his
+will. And this passiveness was so unusual with her that it alarmed and
+irritated Percival by turns.
+
+Anger rather than affection was the motive of his conduct. As he himself
+had said, he was rather a selfish man, and he would not willingly
+sacrifice his own happiness unless he was very sure that hers depended
+upon the sacrifice. He was enraged with the man who had won Elizabeth's
+love, and believed him to be a scheming adventurer. Neither patience nor
+tolerance belonged to Percival's character; and although he loved
+Elizabeth, he was bitterly indignant with her, and not indisposed to
+punish her for her faithlessness by forcing her to submit to caresses
+which she neither liked nor returned. If he had any magnanimity in him
+he deliberately put it on one side; he knew that he was taking a revenge
+upon her for which she might never forgive him, which was neither
+delicate nor generous, but he told himself that he had been too much
+injured to show mercy. It was Elizabeth's own fault if he assumed the
+airs of a sultan with a favourite slave, instead of kneeling at her
+feet. So he argued with himself; and yet a little grain of conscience
+made him feel from time to time that he was wrong, and that he might
+live to repent what he was doing now.
+
+"We will be married before Christmas, Elizabeth," he said one day, when
+he had been at Strathleckie nearly a week. He spoke in a tone of cool
+insistence.
+
+"As you think best," she answered, sadly.
+
+"Would you prefer a later date?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "It is all the same to me.
+'If 'twere done at all, 'twere well done quickly,' you know."
+
+"Do you mean that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why delay it at all? Why not next week--next month, at latest?
+What is there to wait for?"
+
+They were sitting in the little school-room, or study, as it was called,
+near the front door--the very room in which Elizabeth had talked with
+Brian on the night of his arrival at Strathleckie. The remembrance of
+that conversation prompted her reply.
+
+"Oh, no," she said, in a tone of almost agonised entreaty. "Percival,
+have a little mercy. Not yet--not yet."
+
+His face hardened: his keen eyes fixed themselves relentlessly upon her
+white face. He was sitting upon the sofa: she standing by the fireplace
+with her hands clasped tightly before her. For a minute he looked at her
+thus, and then he spoke.
+
+"You said just now that it was all the same to you. May I ask what you
+mean?"
+
+"There is no need to ask me," she said, resolutely, although, her pale
+lips quivered. "You know what I mean. I will marry you before Christmas,
+if you like; but not with such--such indecent haste as you propose. Not
+this month, nor next."
+
+"In December then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You promise? Even if this man--this tutor--should come back?"
+
+"I suppose I have given you a right to doubt me, Percival," she said.
+"But I have never broken my word--never! From the first, I only promised
+to try to love you; and, indeed, I tried."
+
+"Oh, of course, I know that I am not a lovable individual," said
+Percival, throwing himself back on the cushions with a savage scowl.
+
+She looked up quickly: there was a bitter word upon her tongue, but she
+refrained from uttering it. The struggle lasted for a moment only; then
+she went over to him, and laid her hand softly upon his arm.
+
+"Percival, are you always going to be so hard upon me?" she said. "I
+know you do not easily forgive, and I have wronged you. Can I do more
+than be sorry for my wrong-doing? I was wrong to object to your wishes.
+I will marry you when you like: you shall decide everything for me now!"
+
+His face had been gloomily averted, but he turned and looked at her as
+she said the last few words, and took both her hands in his.
+
+"I'm not quite such a brute as you think me, Elizabeth," he answered,
+with some emotion in his voice. "I don't want to make you do what you
+find painful."
+
+"That is nonsense," she said, more decidedly than he had heard her speak
+for many days. "The whole matter is very painful to both of us at
+present. The only alleviation----"
+
+"Well, what is the only alleviation? Why do you hesitate?"
+
+She lifted her serious, clear eyes to his face.
+
+"I hesitated," she said, "because I did not feel sure whether I had the
+right to speak of it as an alleviation. I meant--the only thing that
+makes life bearable at all is the trying to do right; and, when one has
+failed in doing it, to get back to the right path as soon as possible,
+leaving the sin and misery behind."
+
+He still held her hands, and he looked down at the slender wrists (where
+the blue veins showed so much more distinctly than they used to do) with
+something like a sigh.
+
+"If one failure grieves you in this way, Elizabeth, what would you do if
+you had chosen a path from which you could not turn back, although you
+knew that it was wrong? There are many men and women whose lives are
+based upon what you would call, I suppose, wrong-doing."
+
+There was little of his usual sneering emphasis in the words. His face
+had fallen into an expression of trouble and sadness which it did not
+often wear; but there was so much less hardness in its lines than there
+had been of late that Elizabeth felt that she might answer him freely
+and frankly.
+
+"I don't think there is any path of wrong-doing from which one might not
+turn back, Percival. And it seems to me that the worst misery one could
+go through would be the continuing in any such path; because the
+consciousness of wrong would spoil all the beauty of life and take the
+flavour out of every enjoyment. It would end, I think, by breaking ones
+heart altogether."
+
+"A true woman's view," said Percival, starting up and releasing her
+hands, "but not one that is practicable in the world of men. I suppose
+you think you know one man, at least, who would come up to your ideal in
+that respect?"
+
+"I know several; you amongst them," she replied. "I am sure you would
+not deliberately do a wicked, dishonourable action for the world."
+
+"You have more faith in me than I deserve," he said, walking restlessly
+up and down the room. "I am not so sure--but of one thing I am quite
+sure, Elizabeth," and he came up to her and put his hands on her
+shoulders, "I am quite sure that you are the best and truest woman that
+ever lived, and I beg your pardon if I seemed for one moment to doubt
+you. Will you grant it to me, darling?"
+
+For the first time since the beginning of the visit, she looked at him
+gratefully, and even affectionately.
+
+"I have nothing to forgive you," she said. "If only I could forgive
+myself!" And then she burst into tears, and Percival forgot his
+ill-humour and his sense of wrong in trying to soothe her into calmness
+again.
+
+This conversation made them both happier. Elizabeth lost her unnatural
+passiveness of demeanour, and looked more like her clear-headed,
+energetic self; and Percival was less exacting and overbearing than he
+had been during the past week. He went back to London with a strong
+conviction that time would give him Elizabeth's heart as well as her
+hand; and that she would learn to forget the unprincipled scoundrel--so
+Percival termed him--who had dared to aspire to her love.
+
+The Herons were to return to London in November, and the purchase of
+Elizabeth's trousseau was postponed until then. But other preparations
+were immediately begun: there was a great talk of "settlements" and
+"entail" in the house; and Mr. Colquhoun had some very long and serious
+interviews with his fair client. It need hardly be stated that Mr.
+Colquhoun greatly objected to Miss Murray's marriage with her cousin,
+and applied to him (in strict privacy) not a few of the adjectives which
+Percival had bestowed upon the tutor. But the lawyer was driven to admit
+that Mr. Percival Heron, poor though he might be, showed a very
+disinterested spirit when consulted upon money matters, and that he
+stood firm in his determination that Elizabeth's whole fortune should be
+settled upon herself. He declared also that he was not going to live
+upon his wife's money, and that he should continue to pursue his
+profession of journalism and literature in general after his marriage;
+but at this assertion Mr. Colquhoun shook his head.
+
+"It shows a very independent spirit in ye, Mr. Heron," he said, when
+Percival announced his resolve in a somewhat lordly manner; "but I think
+that in six months' time after the marriage, ye'll just agree with me
+that your determination was one that could not be entirely carried out."
+
+"I usually do carry out my determinations, Mr. Colquhoun," said
+Percival, hotly.
+
+"No doubt, no doubt. It's a determination that reflects credit upon ye,
+Mr. Heron. Ye'll observe that I'm not saying a word against your
+determination," replied Mr. Colquhoun, warily, but with emphasis. "It's
+highly creditable both to Miss Murray and to yourself."
+
+And although Percival felt himself insulted, he could not well say more.
+
+The continuation of his connection with the daily press was the proof
+which he intended to offer to the world of his disinterestedness in
+marrying Elizabeth Murray. He disliked the thought of her wealth, but he
+was of too robust a nature, in spite of his sensitiveness on many
+points, to refuse to marry a woman simply because she was richer than
+himself. In fact, that is a piece of Quixotism not often practised, and
+though Percival would perhaps have been capable of refusing to make an
+offer of marriage to Elizabeth after she had come into her fortune, he
+was not disposed to withdraw that offer because it had turned out a more
+advantageous one for himself than he had expected. It is only fair to
+say that he did not hold Elizabeth to her word on account of her wealth;
+he never once thought of it in that interview with her on the
+river-bank. Selfish as he might be in some things, he was liberal and
+generous to a fault when money was in the question.
+
+It was Mr. Colquhoun who told Mrs. Luttrell of Miss Murray's engagement.
+He was amazed at the look of anger and disappointment that crossed her
+face. "Ay!" she said, bitterly, "I am too late, as I always am. This
+will be a sore blow to Hugo."
+
+"Hugo!" said the old lawyer. "Was he after Miss Murray too? Not a bad
+notion, either. It would have been a good thing to get the property back
+to the Luttrells. He could have called himself Murray-Luttrell then."
+
+"Too late for that," said Mrs. Luttrell, grimly. "Well, he shall have
+Netherglen."
+
+"Are you quite decided in your mind on that point?" queried Mr.
+Colquhoun.
+
+"Quite so. I'll give you my instructions about the will as soon as you
+like."
+
+"Take time! take time!" said the lawyer.
+
+"I have taken time. I have thought the matter over in every light, and I
+am quite convinced that what I possess ought to go to Hugo. There is no
+other Luttrell to take Netherglen--and to a Luttrell Netherglen must
+go."
+
+"I should have thought that you would like better to leave it to Miss
+Murray, who is of your own father's blood," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+cautiously. "She is your second cousin, ye'll remember; and a good girl
+into the bargain."
+
+"A good girl she may be, and a handsome one; and I would gladly have
+seen her the mistress of Netherglen if she were Hugo's wife; but
+Netherglen was never mine, it was my husband's, and though it came to me
+at his death, it shall stay in the Luttrell family, as he meant it to
+do. Elizabeth Murray has the Strathleckie property; that ought to be
+enough for her, especially as she is going to marry a penniless cousin,
+who will perhaps make ducks and drakes of it all."
+
+"Hugo's a fortunate lad," said Mr. Colquhoun, drily, as he seated
+himself at a writing-table, in order to take Mrs. Luttrell's
+instructions. "I hope he may be worthy of his good luck."
+
+Hugo did not seem to consider himself very fortunate when he heard the
+news of Miss Murray's approaching marriage. He looked thoroughly
+disconcerted. Mrs. Luttrell was inclined to think that his affections
+had been engaged more deeply than she knew, and in her hard, unemotional
+way, tried to express some sympathy with him in his loss. It was not a
+matter of the affections with Hugo, however, but his purse. His money
+affairs were much embarrassed: he was beginning to calculate the amount
+that he could wring out of Mrs. Luttrell, and, if she failed him, he had
+made up his mind to marry Elizabeth.
+
+"Heron!" he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise and disgust, "I don't
+believe she cares a rap for Heron."
+
+"How can you tell?" said his aunt.
+
+Hugo looked at her, looked down, and said nothing.
+
+"If you think she liked you better than Mr. Heron," said Mrs. Luttrell,
+in a meditative tone, "something might yet be done to change the course
+of affairs."
+
+"No, no," said Hugo, hastily. "Dear Aunt Margaret, you are too kind. No,
+if she is happy, it is all I ask. I will go to Strathleckie this
+afternoon; perhaps I can then judge better."
+
+"I don't want you to do anything dishonourable," said his aunt, "but, if
+Elizabeth likes you best, Hugo, I could speak to Mr. Heron--the father,
+I mean--and ascertain whether the engagement is absolutely irrevocable.
+I should like to see you happy as well as Elizabeth Murray."
+
+Hugo sighed, kissed his aunt's hand, and departed--not to see Elizabeth,
+but Kitty Heron. He felt that if his money difficulties could only be
+settled, he was well out of that proposed marriage with Elizabeth; but
+then money difficulties were not easily settled when one had no money.
+In the meantime, he was free to make love to Kitty.
+
+Percival spent two or three busy weeks in London, and found that hard
+work was the best specific for the low spirits from which he had
+suffered during his stay in Scotland. He heard regularly from Elizabeth,
+and her letters, though not long, and somewhat coldly expressed, gave
+him complete satisfaction. He noticed with some surprise that she spoke
+a good deal of Hugo Luttrell; he seemed to be always with them, and the
+distant cousinship existing between him and Elizabeth had been made the
+pretext for a good deal of apparent familiarity. He was "Hugo" now to
+the whole family; he had been "Mr. Luttrell" only when Percival left
+Strathleckie.
+
+He was sitting alone in his "den," as he nicknamed it, late in the
+afternoon of a November day, when a low knock at the door made itself
+faintly heard. Percival was smoking; having come in cold and tired, he
+had wheeled an arm-chair in front of the fire, and was sitting with his
+feet on the bars of the grate, whereby a faint odour of singed leather
+was gradually mingling with the fumes of the very strong tobacco that he
+loved. His green shaded lamp stood on a small table beside him, throwing
+its light full upon the pages of the French novel that he had taken up
+to read (it was "Spiridion" and he was reading it for about the
+twentieth time); books and newspapers, as usual, strewed the floor, the
+tables, and the chairs; well-filled book-shelves lined three of the
+walls; the only ornaments were the photographs of two or three actors
+and actresses, some political caricatures pinned to the walls, a couple
+of foils and boxing-gloves, and on the mantelpiece a choice collection
+of pipes. The atmosphere was thick, the aspect of the furniture dusty:
+Percival Heron's own appearance was not at that moment calculated to
+insure admiration. His hair was absolutely dishevelled; truth compels us
+to admit that he had not shaved that day, and that his chin was
+consequently of a blue-black colour and bristly surface, which could not
+be called attractive: his clothes were shabby to the last degree, frayed
+at the cuffs, and very shiny on the shoulders. Heron was a poor man, and
+had a good deal of the Bohemian in his constitution: hence came a
+certain contempt for appearances, which sometimes offended his friend
+Vivian, as well as a real inability to spend money on clothes and
+furniture without getting into debt. And Percival, extravagant as he
+sometimes seemed, was never in debt: he had seen too much of it in his
+father's house not to be alive to its inconveniences, and he had had the
+moral courage to keep a resolution made in early boyhood, that he would
+never owe money to any man. Hence came the shabbiness--and also,
+perhaps, some of the arrogance--of which his friends complained.
+
+Owing partly therefore to the shabbiness, partly to the untidiness,
+partly to the very comfort of the slightly overheated room, the visitor
+who entered it did not form a very high opinion of its occupant.
+Percival's frown, and momentary stare of astonishment, were, perhaps,
+enough to disconcert a person not already very sure of his reception.
+
+"Am I dreaming?" muttered Heron to himself, as he cast the book to the
+ground, and rose to his feet. "One would think that George Sand's
+visionary young monk had walked straight out of the book into my room.
+Begging, I suppose. Good evening. You have called on behalf of some
+charity, I suppose? Come nearer to the fire; it is a cold night."
+
+The stranger--a young man in a black cassock--bowed courteously, and
+seated himself in the chair that Percival pointed out. He then spoke in
+English, but with a foreign accent, which did not sound unpleasantly in
+Heron's ears.
+
+"I have not come on behalf of any charity," he said, "but I come in the
+interests of justice."
+
+"The same thing, I suppose, in the long run," Percival remarked to
+himself. "But what a fine face the beggar has! He's been ill lately, or
+else he is half-starved--shall I give him some whisky and a pipe? I
+suppose he would feel insulted!"
+
+While he made these reflections, he replied politely that he was always
+pleased to serve the interests of justice, offered his guest a glass of
+wine (chiefly because he looked so thin and pale)--an offer which was
+smilingly rejected--then crossed his legs, looked up to the ceiling, and
+awaited in silent resignation the pitiful story which he was sure that
+this young monk had come to tell.
+
+But, after a troubled glance at Mr. Heron's face, (which had a
+peculiarly reckless and defiant expression by reason of the tossed hair,
+the habitual frown and the bristles on his chin), the visitor began to
+speak in a very different strain from the one which Percival had
+expected.
+
+"I have come," he said, "on affairs which concern yourself and your
+family; and, therefore, I most heartily beg your pardon if I appear to
+you an insolent intruder, speaking of matters which it does not concern
+me to know."
+
+His formal English sentences were correct enough, but seemed to be
+constructed with some difficulty. Percival's eyes came down from the
+ceiling and rested upon his thin, pale face with lazy curiosity.
+
+"I should not have thought that my affairs would be particularly
+interesting to you," he said.
+
+"But there you are wrong, they interest me very much," said the young
+man, with much vivacity. His dark eyes glowed like coals of fire as he
+proceeded. "There is scarcely anyone whose fortunes are of so much
+significance to me."
+
+"I am much obliged to you," murmured Percival, with lifted eyebrows;
+"but I hardly understand----"
+
+"You will understand quite soon enough, Mr. Heron," said the visitor,
+quietly. "I have news for you that may not be agreeable. I believe that
+you have a cousin, a Miss Murray, who lately succeeded to a great
+fortune."
+
+"Yes, but what has that to do with you, if you please?" demanded Heron,
+his amiability vanishing into space.
+
+The stranger lifted his hand.
+
+"Allow me one moment. She inherited this fortune on the death of a Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, I think?"
+
+"Exactly--but what----"
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Heron. I come to my piece of news at last. Miss Murray
+has no right to the property which she is enjoying. Mr. Brian Luttrell
+is alive!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+A REVELATION.
+
+
+Percival started from his chair. His first exclamation was a rather
+profane one, for which the monk immediately reproved him. He did not
+take much notice of the reproof: he stared hard at the young man for a
+minute or two, unconsciously repeated the objectionable expression, and
+then took one or two turns up and down the room. After which he came to
+a standstill, thrust his hands into his pockets, and allowed his
+features to relax into a sardonically-triumphant smile.
+
+"You couldn't tell me a thing which I should be better pleased to hear,"
+he said. "But I don't believe it's true."
+
+This was rude, but the visitor was not disconcerted. He looked at
+Percival's masterful face with interest, and a little suspicion, and
+answered quietly:--
+
+"I do not know exactly what evidence will satisfy you, sir. Of course,
+you will require evidence. I, myself, Bernardino Vasari of San Stefano,
+can testify that I saw Brian Luttrell in our monastery on the 27th day
+of November, some days after his reputed death. I can account for all
+his time after that date, and I can tell you where he is to be found at
+present. His cousin, Hugo Luttrell, has already recognised him, and,
+although he is much changed, I fancy that there would be small doubt
+about his identification."
+
+"But why, in Heaven's name, did he allow himself to be thought dead?"
+cried Percival.
+
+"You know, probably, the circumstances attending his brother's death?"
+said Dino, gently. "These, and a cruel letter from Mrs. Luttrell, made
+him resolve to take advantage of an accident in which his companions
+were killed. He made his way to a little inn on the southern side of the
+Alps, and thence to our monastery, where I recognised him as the
+gentleman whom I had previously seen travelling in Germany. I had had
+some conversation with him, and he had interested me--I remembered him
+well."
+
+"Did he give his name as Brian Luttrell then?"
+
+"I accosted him by it, and he begged me at once not to do so, but to
+give him another name."
+
+"What name?"
+
+"I will tell you the name presently, Mr. Heron. He remained in the
+monastery for some months: first ill of a fever on the brain, then,
+after his recovery, as a teacher to our young pupils. When he grew
+stronger he became tired of our peaceful life; he left the monastery and
+wandered from place to place in Italy. But he had no money: he began to
+think of work. He was learned: he could teach: he thought that he might
+be a tutor. Shall I go on?"
+
+"Good God!" said Percival, below his breath. He had actually turned
+pale, and was biting his moustache savagely. "Go on, sir!" he thundered,
+looking at Dino from beneath his knitted brows. "Tell me the rest as
+quickly as you can."
+
+"He met with an English family," Dino continued, watching with keen
+interest the effect of his words. "They were kind to him: they took him,
+without character, without recommendations, and allowed him to teach
+their children. He did not know who they were: he thought that they were
+rich people, and that the young lady who was so dutiful to them, and
+cared so tenderly for their children, was poor like himself, a dependent
+like himself. He dared, therefore----"
+
+"He lies and you lie!" Percival burst out, furiously. "How dare you come
+to me with a tale of this sort? He must have known! It was simply a base
+deception in order to get back his estate. If I had him here----"
+
+"If you had him here you would listen to him, Mr. Heron," said Dino, in
+a perfectly unmoved voice, "as you will listen to me when the first
+shock of your surprise is over."
+
+"Your garb, I suppose, protects you," said Percival, sharply. "Else I
+would throw you out of the window to join your accomplice outside. I
+daresay he is there. I don't believe a word of your story. May I trouble
+you to go?"
+
+"This conduct is unworthy of you, sir," said Dino. "Brian Luttrell's
+identity will not be disproved by bluster. There is not the least doubt
+about it. Mr. Brian Luttrell is alive and has been teaching in your
+father's family for the last few months under the name of John
+Stretton."
+
+"Then he is a scoundrel," said Percival. He threw himself into his chair
+again, with his feet stretched out before him, and his hands still
+thrust deep into his trousers' pockets. His face was white with rage. "I
+always thought that he was a rogue; and, if this story is true, he has
+proved himself one."
+
+"How?" said Dino, quietly. "By living in poverty when he might have been
+rich? By allowing others to take what was legally his own, because he
+had a scruple about his moral right to it? If you knew all Brian
+Luttrell's story you would know that his only fault has been that of
+over-conscientiousness, over-scrupulousness. But you do not know the
+story, perhaps you never will, and, therefore, you cannot judge."
+
+"I do not want to judge. I have nothing to do with Mr. Stretton and his
+story," said Percival.
+
+"I will tell you----"
+
+"I will not hear. You are impostors, the pair of you."
+
+Dino's eyes flashed and his lips compressed themselves. His face, thin
+from his late illness, assumed a wonderful sternness of expression.
+
+"This is folly," he said, with a cold serenity of tone which impressed
+Percival in spite of himself. "You will have to hear part of his story
+sooner or later, Mr. Heron; for your own sake, for Miss Murray's sake,
+you had better hear it now."
+
+"Look here, my good man," said Percival, sitting up, and regarding his
+visitor with contemptuous disgust, "don't go bringing Miss Murray's name
+into this business, for, if you do, I'll call a policeman and give you
+in charge for trying to extort money on false pretences, and you may
+thank your priest's dress, or whatever it is, that I don't kick you out
+of the house. Do you hear?"
+
+"Sir," said Dino, mildly, but with great dignity, "have I asked you for
+a single penny?"
+
+Heron looked at him as if he would like to carry out the latter part of
+his threat, but the young man was so frail, so thin, so feeble, that he
+felt suddenly ashamed of having threatened him. He rose, planted his
+back firmly against the mantelpiece, and pointed significantly to the
+door. "Go!" he said, briefly. "And don't come back."
+
+"If I go," said Dino, rising from his chair, "I shall take the express
+train to Scotland at eight o'clock to-night, and I shall see Miss Murray
+to-morrow morning."
+
+The shot told. A sort of quiver passed over Percival's set face. He
+muttered an angry ejaculation. "I'll see you d----d first," he said.
+"You'll do nothing of the kind."
+
+"Then will you hear my story?"
+
+Heron paused. He could have ground his teeth with fury; but he was quite
+alive to the difficulties of the situation. If this young monk went with
+his story to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth believed it, what would become of
+her fidelity to him? With his habitual cynicism, he told himself that no
+woman would keep her word, if by doing so she lost a fortune and a lover
+both. He must hear this story, if only to prevent its being told to her.
+
+"Well," he said at last, taking his pipe from the mantelshelf, "I'll
+listen. Be so good as to make your story short. I have no time to
+waste." And then he rammed the tobacco into the bowl with his thumb in a
+suggestively decisive manner, lighted it, and proceeded to puff at his
+pipe with a sort of savage vigour. He sent out great clouds of smoke,
+which speedily filled the air and rendered speaking difficult to Dino,
+whose lungs had become delicate in consequence of his wound. But
+Percival was rather pleased than otherwise to inconvenience him.
+
+"There are several reasons," the young man began, "why Brian Luttrell
+wished to be thought dead. He had killed his brother by accident, and
+Mrs. Luttrell thought that there had been malice as well as carelessness
+in the deed. That was one reason. His mother's harshness preyed upon his
+mind and drove him almost to melancholy madness. Mrs. Luttrell made
+another statement, and made it in a way that convinced him that she had
+reasons for making it----"
+
+"Can't you cut it short?" said Percival. "It's all very interesting, no
+doubt: but as I don't care a hang what Brian Luttrell said, or thought,
+or did, I should prefer to have as little of it as possible."
+
+"I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I must tell my story in my own
+way," answered Dino. The flash of his eye and the increased colour in
+his cheek showed that Heron's words irritated him, but his voice was
+carefully calm and cool. "Mrs. Luttrell's statement was this: that Brian
+Luttrell was not her son at all. I have in my possession the letter that
+she wrote to him on the subject, assuring him confidently that he was
+the child of her Italian nurse, Vincenza Vasari, and that her own child
+had died in infancy, and was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano.
+Here is the letter, if you like to assure yourself that what I have said
+is true."
+
+Percival made a satirical little bow of refusal. But a look of attention
+had come into his eyes.
+
+"Brian believed this story absolutely, although he had then no proof of
+its truth," continued Dino. "She told him that the Vasari family lived
+at San Stefano----"
+
+"Vasari! Relations of your own, I presume," interposed Percival, with
+ironical politeness.
+
+"And to San Stefano, therefore, he was making his way when the accident
+on the mountain occurred," said Dino, utterly disregarding the
+interruption. "There were inquiries made about him at San Stefano soon
+after the news of his supposed death arrived in England, for Mrs.
+Luttrell guessed that he would go thither if he were still living; but
+he had not then appeared at the monastery. He did not arrive at San
+Stefano, as I said before, until a fortnight after the date of the
+accident; he had been ill, and was footsore and weary. When he recovered
+from the brain-fever which prostrated him as soon as he reached the
+monastery, he told his whole story to the Prior, Padre Cristoforo of San
+Stefano, a man whose character is far beyond suspicion. I have also
+Padre Cristoforo's statement, if you would like to see it."
+
+Percival shook his head. But his pipe had gone out; he was listening now
+with interest.
+
+"As it happened," the narrator went on, "Padre Cristoforo was already
+interested in the matter, because the mother of Mrs. Luttrell's nurse,
+Vincenza, had, before her death, confided to him her suspicions, and
+those of Vincenza's husband concerning the child that she had nursed.
+There was a child living in the village of San Stefano, a child who had
+been brought up as Vincenza's child, but Vincenza had told her this boy
+was the true Brian Luttrell, and that her son had been taken back to
+Scotland as Mrs. Luttrell's child."
+
+"I see your drift now," remarked Percival, quietly re-lighting his pipe.
+"Where is this Italian Brian Luttrell to be found?"
+
+"Need I tell you? Should I come here with this story if I were not the
+man?"
+
+He asked the question almost sadly, but with a simplicity of manner
+which showed him to be free from any desire to produce any theatrical
+effect. He waited for a moment, looking steadily at Percival, whose
+darkening brow and kindling eyes displayed rapidly-rising anger.
+
+"I was called Dino Vasari at San Stefano," he continued, "but I believe
+that my rightful name is Brian Luttrell, and that Vincenza Vasari
+changed the children during an illness of Mrs. Luttrell's."
+
+"And that, therefore," said Percival, slowly, "you are the owner of the
+Strathleckie property--or, as it is generally called, the Luttrell
+property--now possessed by Miss Murray?"
+
+Dino bowed his head.
+
+Percival puffed away at his pipe for a minute or two, and surveyed him
+from head to foot with angry, contemptuous eyes. The only thing that
+prevented him from letting loose a storm of rage upon Dino's head was
+the young man's air of grave simplicity and good faith. He did not look
+like an intentional impostor, such as Percival Heron would gladly have
+believed him to be.
+
+"Do you know," inquired Heron, after a momentary pause, "what the
+penalties are for attempting to extort money, or for passing yourself
+off under a false name in order to get property? Did you ever hear of
+the Claimant and Portland Prison? I would advise you to acquaint
+yourself with these details before you come to me again. You may be more
+fool than knave; but you may carry your foolery or your knavery
+elsewhere."
+
+Dino smiled.
+
+"You had better hear the rest of my story before you indulge in these
+idle threats, Mr. Heron. I know perfectly well what I am doing."
+
+There was a tone of lofty assurance, almost of superiority, in Dino's
+calm voice, which galled Percival, because he felt that it had the power
+of subduing him a little. Before he had thought of a rejoinder, the
+young Benedictine resumed his story.
+
+"You will say rightly enough that these were not proofs. So Padre
+Cristoforo said when he kept me in the monastery until I came to years
+of discretion. So he told Brian Luttrell when he came to San Stefano.
+But since that day new witnesses have arisen. Vincenza Vasari was not
+dead: she had only disappeared for a time. She is now found, and she is
+prepared to swear to the truth of the story that I have told you. Mrs.
+Luttrell's suspicions, the statement made by Vincenza's husband and
+mother, the confession of another woman who was Vincenza's accomplice,
+all form corroborative evidence which will, I think, be quite sufficient
+to prove the case. So, at least, Messrs. Brett and Grattan assure me,
+and they have gone carefully into the matter, and have the original
+papers in their possession."
+
+"Brett and Grattan!" repeated Percival. He knew the names. "Do you say
+that Brett and Grattan have taken it up? You must have managed matters
+cleverly: Brett and Grattan are a respectable firm."
+
+"You are at liberty, of course, to question them. You may, perhaps,
+credit their statement."
+
+"I will certainly go to them and expose this imposture," said Percival,
+haughtily. "I suppose you have no objection," with a hardly-concealed
+sneer, "to go with me to them at once?"
+
+"Not in the least. I am quite ready."
+
+Percival was rather staggered by his willingness to accompany him. He
+laid down his pipe, which he had been holding mechanically for some time
+in his hand, and made a step towards the door. But as he reached it Dino
+spoke again.
+
+"I wish, Mr. Heron, that before you go to these lawyers you would listen
+to me a little longer. If for a moment or two you would divest yourself
+of your suspicions, if you would for a moment or two assume (only for
+the sake of argument) the truth of my story, I could tell you then why I
+came. As yet, I have scarcely approached the object of my errand."
+
+"Money, I suppose!" said Percival. "Truth will out, sooner or later."
+
+"Mr. Heron," said Dino, "are we to approach this subject as gentlemen or
+not? When I ask you for money, you will be at liberty to insult me, not
+before."
+
+Again that tone of quiet superiority! Percival broke out angrily:--
+
+"I will listen to nothing more from you. If you like to go with me to
+Brett and Grattan, we will go now; if not, you are a liar and an
+impostor, and I shall be happy to kick you out into the street."
+
+Dino raised his head; a quick, involuntary movement ran through his
+frame, as if it thrilled with anger at the insulting words. Then his
+head sank; he quietly folded his arms across his breast, and stood as he
+used to stand when awaiting an order or an admonition from the
+Prior--tranquil, submissive, silent, but neither ill-humoured nor
+depressed. The very silence and submission enraged Percival the more.
+
+"If you were of Scotch or English blood," he said, sharply, pausing as
+he crossed the room to look over his shoulder at the motionless figure
+in the black robe, with folded arms and bent head, "you would resent the
+words I have hastily used. That you don't do so is proof positive to my
+mind that you are no Luttrell."
+
+"If I am a Luttrell, I trust that I am a Christian, too," said Dino,
+tranquilly. "It is a monk's duty--a monk's privilege--to bear insult."
+
+"Detestable hypocrisy!" growled Percival to himself, as he stepped to
+the door and ostentatiously locked it, putting the key into his pocket,
+before he went into the adjoining bed-room to change his coat. "We'll
+soon see what Brett and Grattan say to him. Confound the fellow! Who
+would think that that smooth saintly face covered so much insolence! I
+should like to give him a good hiding. I should, indeed."
+
+He returned to the sitting-room, unlocked the door, and ordered a
+servant to fetch a hansom-cab. Then he occupied himself by setting some
+of the books straight on the shelves, humming a tune to himself
+meanwhile, as if nobody else were in the room.
+
+"Mr. Heron," Dino said at last, "I came to propose a compromise. Will
+you listen to it yet?"
+
+"No," said Percival, drily. "I'll listen to nothing until I have seen
+Brett. If your case is as good as you declare it is, he will convince
+me; and then you can talk about compromises. I'm not in the humour for
+compromises just now."
+
+He noticed that Dino's eyes were fixed earnestly upon something on his
+writing-table. He drew near enough to see that it was a cabinet
+photograph of Elizabeth Murray in a brass frame--a likeness which had
+just been taken, and which was considered remarkably good. The head and
+shoulders only were seen: the stately pose of the head, the slightly
+upturned profile, the rippling mass of hair resting on the fine
+shoulders, round which a shawl had been loosely draped--these
+constituted the chief points of a portrait which some people said was
+"idealised," but which, in the opinion of the Herons, only showed
+Elizabeth at her best. Percival coolly took up the photograph and
+marched away with it to another table, on which he laid it face
+downwards. He did not choose to have the Italian impostor scrutinising
+Elizabeth Murray's face. Dino understood the action, and liked him for
+it better than he had done as yet.
+
+The drive to Messrs. Brett and Grattan's office was accomplished in
+perfect silence. The office was just closing, but Mr. Brett--the partner
+with whom Percival happened to be acquainted--was there, and received
+the visitors very civilly.
+
+"You seem to know this--this gentleman, Mr. Brett?" began Percival,
+somewhat stiffly.
+
+"I think I have that pleasure," said Mr. Brett, who was a big,
+red-faced, genial-looking man, as much unlike the typical lawyer of the
+novel and the stage, as a fox-hunting squire would have been. But Mr.
+Brett's reputation was assured. "I think I have that pleasure," he
+repeated, rubbing his hands, and looking as though he was enjoying the
+interview very much. "I have seen him before once or twice, have I not?
+eh, Mr.--er--Mr.----"
+
+"Ah, that is just the point," said Percival. "Will you have the goodness
+to tell me the name of this--this person?"
+
+Mr. Brett stopped rubbing his hands, and looked from Dino to Percival,
+and back again to Dino. The look said plainly enough, "What shall I tell
+him? How much does he know?"
+
+"I wish to have no secrets from Mr. Heron," said Dino, simply. "He is
+the gentleman who is going to marry Miss Elizabeth Murray, and, of
+course, he is interested in the matter."
+
+"Ah, of course, of course. I don't know that you ought to have brought
+him here," said Mr. Brett, shaking his head waggishly at Dino. "Against
+rules, you know: against custom: against precedent. But I believe you
+want to arrange matters pleasantly amongst yourselves. Well, Mr. Heron,
+I don't often like to commit myself to a statement, but, under the
+circumstances, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe this
+gentleman now before you, who called himself Vasari in Italy, is in
+reality----"
+
+"Well?" said Percival, feeling his heart sink within him and speaking
+more impatiently than usual in consequence, "Well, Mr. Brett?"
+
+"Is in reality," said Mr. Brett, with great deliberation and emphasis,
+"the second son of Edward and Margaret Luttrell, stolen from them in
+infancy--Brian Luttrell."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+DINO'S PROPOSITION.
+
+
+Dino turned away. He would not see the discomfiture plainly depicted
+upon Percival's face. Mr. Brett smiled pleasantly, and rubbed his hands.
+
+"I see that it's a shock to you, Mr. Heron," he said. "Well, we can
+understand that. It's natural. Of course you thought Miss Murray a rich
+woman, as we all did, and it is a little disappointing----"
+
+"Your remarks are offensive, sir, most offensive," said Percival, whose
+ire was thoroughly roused by this address. "I will bid you and your
+client good-evening. I have no more to say."
+
+He made for the door, but Dino interposed.
+
+"It is my turn now, I think, Mr. Heron. You insisted upon my coming
+here: I must insist now upon your seeing the documents I have to show
+you, and hearing what I have to say." And with a sharp click he turned
+the key in the lock, and stood with his back against the door.
+
+"Tut, tut, tut!" said Mr. Brett; "there is no need to lock the door, no
+need of violence, Mr. Luttrell." In spite of himself, Percival started
+when he heard that name applied to the young monk before him. "Let the
+matter be settled amicably, by all means. You come from the young lady;
+you have authority to act for her, have you, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"No," said Percival, sullenly. "She knows nothing about it."
+
+"This is an informal interview," said Dino. "Mr. Heron refused to
+believe that you had undertaken my case, Mr. Brett, until he heard the
+fact from your own lips. I trust that he is now satisfied on that point,
+at any rate."
+
+"Mr. Brett is an old acquaintance of mine. I have no reason to doubt his
+sincerity," said Percival, shortly and stiffly.
+
+If Dino had hoped for anything like an apology, he was much mistaken.
+Percival's temper was rampant still.
+
+"Then," said Dino, quitting the door, with the key in his hand, "we may
+as well proceed to look at those papers of mine, Mr. Brett. There can be
+no objection to Mr. Heron's seeing them, I suppose?"
+
+The lawyer made some objections, but ended by producing from a black
+box, a bundle of papers, amongst which were the signed and witnessed
+confessions of Vincenza Vasari and a woman named Rosa Naldi, who had
+helped in the exchange of the children. Mr. Brett would not allow these
+papers to go out of his own hands, but he showed them to Percival,
+expounded their contents, and made comments upon the evidence, remarking
+amongst other things that Vincenza Vasari herself was expected in
+England in a week or two, Padre Cristoforo having taken charge of her,
+and undertaken to produce her at the fitting time.
+
+"The evidence seems to be very conclusive," said Mr. Brett, with a
+pleasant smile. "In fact, Miss Murray has no case at all, and I dare say
+her legal adviser will know what advice to give her, Mr. Heron. Is there
+any question that you would like to ask?"
+
+"No," said Percival, rising from his chair and glancing at Dino, who had
+stood by without speaking, throughout the lawyer's exposition of the
+papers. Then, very ungraciously: "I suppose I owe this gentleman in
+ecclesiastical attire--I hardly know what to call him--some sort of
+apology. I see that I was mistaken in what I said."
+
+"My dear sir, I am sure Mr. Luttrell will make allowance for words
+spoken in the heat of the moment. No doubt it was a shock to you," said
+Mr. Brett, with ready sympathy, for which Percival hated him in his
+heart. His brow contracted, and he might have said something uncivil had
+Dino not come forward with a few quiet words, which diverted him from
+his purpose.
+
+"If Mr. Heron thinks that he was mistaken," he said, "he will not refuse
+now to hear what I wished to say before we left his house. It will be
+simple justice to listen to me."
+
+"Very well," answered Percival, frowning and looking down. "I will
+listen."
+
+"Could we, for a few moments only, have a private room?" said Dino to
+Mr. Brett, with some embarrassment.
+
+"You won't want me again?" said that cheerful gentleman, locking his
+desk. "Then, if you won't think me uncivil, I'll leave you altogether.
+My clerk is in the outer room, if you require him. I have a dinner
+engagement at eight o'clock which I should like to keep. Good-bye, Mr.
+Heron; sorry for your disappointment. Good-bye, Mr. Luttrell; I wish you
+wouldn't don that monkish dress of yours. It makes you look so
+un-English, you know. And, after all, you are not a monk, and never will
+be."
+
+"Do not be too sure of that," said Dino, smiling.
+
+Mr. Brett departed, and the two young men were left together. Percival
+was standing, vexation and impatience visible in every line of his
+handsome features. He gave his shoulders a shrug as the door closed
+behind Mr. Brett, and turned to the fire.
+
+"And now, Mr. Heron," said Dino, "will you listen to my proposition?" He
+spoke in Italian, not English, and Percival replied in the same
+language.
+
+"I have said I would listen."
+
+"It refers to Brian Luttrell--the man who has borne that name so long
+that I think he should still be called by it."
+
+"Ah! You have proved to me that Mr. Brett believes your story, and you
+have shown me that your case is a plausible one; but you have not proved
+to me that the man Stretton is identical with Brian Luttrell."
+
+"It is not necessary that that should be proved just now. It can be
+proved; but we will pass over that point, if you please. I am sorry that
+what I have to say trenches somewhat on your private and personal
+affairs, Mr. Heron. I can only entreat your patience for a little time.
+Your marriage with Miss Murray----"
+
+"Need that be dragged into the discussion?"
+
+"It is exactly the point on which I wish to speak."
+
+"Indeed." Percival pulled the lawyer's arm-chair towards him, seated
+himself, and pulled his moustache. "I understand. You are Mr. Stretton's
+emissary!"
+
+"His emissary! No." The denial was sharply spoken. It was with a
+softening touch of emotion that Dino added--"I doubt whether he will
+easily forgive me. I have betrayed him. He does not dream that I would
+tell his secret."
+
+"Are you friendly with him, then?"
+
+"We are as brothers."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"In London."
+
+"Not gone to America then?"
+
+"Not yet. He starts in a few days, if not delayed. I am trying to keep
+him back."
+
+"I knew that his pretence of going was a lie!" muttered Percival. "Of
+course, he never intended to leave the country!"
+
+"Pardon me," said Dino, who had heard more than was quite meant for his
+ears. "The word 'lie' should never be uttered in connection with any of
+Brian's words or actions. He is the soul of honour."
+
+Percival sneered bitterly. "As is shown----" he began, and then stopped
+short. But Dino understood.
+
+"As is shown," he said, steadily, "by the fact that when he learnt,
+almost in the same moment, that Miss Murray was the person who had
+inherited his property, and that she was promised in marriage to
+yourself, he left the house in which she lived, and resolved to see her
+face no more. Was there no sense of honour shown in this? For he loved
+her as his own soul."
+
+"Upon my word," explained Percival, with unconcealed annoyance, "you
+seem to know a great deal about Miss Murray's affairs and mine,
+Mr.--Mr.--Vasari. I am flattered by the interest they excite; but I
+don't see exactly what good is to come of it. I knew of Mr. Stretton's
+proposal long ago: a very insolent one, I considered it."
+
+"Let me ask you a plain question, Mr. Heron. You love Miss Murray, do
+you not?"
+
+"If I do," said Heron, haughtily, "it is not a question that I am
+disposed to answer at present."
+
+"You love Miss Murray," said Dino, as if the question had been answered
+in the affirmative, "and there is nothing on earth so dear to me as my
+friend Brian Luttrell. It may seem strange to you that it should be so;
+but it is true. I have no wish to take his place in Scotland----"
+
+"Then what are you doing in Mr. Brett's office?" asked Percival,
+bluntly.
+
+For the first time Dino showed some embarrassment.
+
+"I have been to blame," he said, hanging his head. "I was forced into
+this position--by others; and I had not the strength to free myself. But
+I will not wrong Brian any longer."
+
+"If your story is proved, it will not be wronging Brian or anybody else
+to claim your rights. Take the Luttrell property, by all means, if it
+belongs to you. We shall do very well without it."
+
+"Yes," said Dino, almost in a whisper, "you will do very well without
+it, if you are sure that she loves you."
+
+Percival sat erect in his chair and looked Dino in the face with an
+expression which, for the first time, was devoid of scorn or anger. It
+was almost one of dread; it was certainly the look of one who prepares
+himself to receive a shock.
+
+"What have you to tell me?" he said, in an unusually quiet voice. "Is
+she deceiving me? Is she corresponding with him? Have they made you
+their confidant?"
+
+"No, no," cried Dino, earnestly. "How can you think so of a woman with a
+face like hers, of a man with a soul like Brian's? Even he has told me
+little; but he has told me more than he knows--and I have guessed the
+rest. If I had not known before, your face would have told me all."
+
+"Tricked!" said Percival, falling back in his chair with a gesture of
+disgust. "I might have known as much. Well, sir, you are wrong. And Miss
+Murray's feelings are not to be canvassed in this way."
+
+"You are right," said Dino; "we will not speak of her. We will speak of
+Brian, of my friend. He is not happy. He is very brave, but he is
+unhappy, too. Are we to rob him of both the things which might make his
+happiness? Are you to marry the woman that he loves, and am I to take to
+myself his inheritance?"
+
+"Hardly to be called his inheritance, I think," said Percival, in a
+parenthetic way, "if he was the child of one Vincenza Vasari, and not of
+the Luttrells."
+
+"I have my proposals to make," said Dino again lowering his voice. A
+nervous flush crept up to his forehead: his lips twitched behind the
+thin fingers with which he had partly covered them: the fingers
+trembled, too. Percival noted these signs of emotion without seeming to
+do so: he waited with some curiosity for the proposition. It startled
+him when it came. "I have been thinking that it would be better," said
+Dino, so simply and naturally that one would never have supposed that he
+was indicating a path of stern self-sacrifice, "if I were to withdraw
+all my claims to the estate, and you to relinquish Miss Murray's hand to
+Brian, then things would fall into their proper places, and he would not
+go to America."
+
+Percival stared at him for a full minute before he seemed quite to
+understand all that was implied in this proposal; then he burst into a
+fit of scornful laughter.
+
+"This is too absurd!" he cried. "Am I to give her up tamely because Mr.
+Brian Luttrell, as you call him, wishes to marry her? I am not so
+anxious to secure Mr. Brian Luttrell's happiness."
+
+"But you wish to secure Miss Murray's, do you not?"
+
+Percival became suddenly silent. Dino went on persuasively.
+
+"I care little for the money and the lands which they say would be mine.
+My greatest wish in life is to become a monk. That is why I put on the
+gown that I used to wear, although I have taken no vows upon me yet, but
+I came to you in the spirit of one to whom earthly things are dead. Let
+me give up this estate to Brian, and make him happy with the woman that
+he loves. When he is married to Elizabeth you shall never see my face
+again."
+
+"This is your proposition?" said Percival, after a little pause.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If I give up Elizabeth"--he forgot that he had not meant to call her by
+her Christian name in Dino Vasari's presence--"you will give up your
+claim to the property?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And if I refuse, what will you do?"
+
+"Fight the matter out by the help of the lawyers," said Dino, with an
+irrepressible flash of his dark eyes. And then there was another pause,
+during which Percival knitted his brows and gazed into the fire, and
+Dino never took his eyes from the other's face.
+
+"Well, I refuse," said Percival at last, getting up and walking about
+the room, with an air of being more angry than he really was. "I will
+have none of your crooked Italian ways. Fair play is the best way of
+managing this matter. I refuse to carry out my share of this 'amicable
+arrangement,' as Brett would call it. Let us fight it out. Every man for
+himself, and the devil take the hindmost."
+
+The last sentence was an English one.
+
+"But what satisfaction will the fight give to anybody?" said Dino,
+earnestly. "For myself--I may gain the estate--I probably shall do
+so--and what use shall I make of it? I might give it, perhaps, to Brian,
+but what pleasure would it be to him if she married you? Miss Murray
+will be left in poverty."
+
+"And do you think she will care for that? Do you think I should care?"
+
+"Money is a good thing: it is not well to despise it," said Dino. "Think
+what you are doing. If you refuse my proposition you deprive Miss Murray
+of her estate, and--I leave you to decide whether you deprive her of her
+happiness."
+
+"Miss Murray can refuse me if she chooses," said Percival, shortly. "I
+should be a great fool if I handed her over at your recommendation to a
+man that I know nothing about. Besides, you could not do it. This
+Italian friend of yours, this Prior of San Stefano, would not let the
+matter fall through. He and Brett would bring forward the witnesses----"
+
+Dino turned his eyes slowly upon him with a curiously subtle look.
+
+"No," he said. "I have received news to-day which puts the matter
+completely in my own hands. Vincenza Vasari is dead: Rosa Naldi is
+dying. They were in a train when a railway accident took place. They
+will never be able to appear as witnesses."
+
+"But they made depositions----"
+
+"Yes. I believe these depositions would establish the case. But
+depositions are written upon paper, and hearsay evidence is not
+admitted. Nobody could prove it, if I did not wish it to be proved."
+
+"I doubt whether it could be proved at all," said Percival,
+hesitatingly. "Of course, it would make Miss Murray uncomfortable. And
+if that other Brian Luttrell is living still, the money would go back to
+him. Would he divide it with you, do you think, if he got it, even as
+you would share it all with him?"
+
+"I believe so," answered Dino. "But I should not want it--unless it were
+to give to the monastery; and San Stefano is already rich. A monk has no
+wants."
+
+"But I am not a monk. There lies the unfairness of your proposal. You
+give up what you care for very little: I am to give up what is dearer
+than the whole world to me. No; I won't do it. It's absurd."
+
+"Is this your answer, Mr. Heron?" said Dino. "Will you sacrifice Brian's
+happiness--I say nothing of her's, for you understand her best--for your
+own?"
+
+"Yes, I will," Percival declared, roundly. "No man is called upon to
+give up his life for another without good reason. Your friend is nothing
+to me. I'll get what I can out of the world for myself. It is little
+enough, but I cannot be expected to surrender it for some ridiculous
+notion of unselfishness. I never professed to be unselfish in my life.
+Mr. Stretton is a man to whom I owe a grudge. I acknowledge it."
+
+Dino sighed heavily. The shade of disappointment upon his face was so
+deep that Heron felt some pity for him--all the more because he believed
+that the monk was destined to deeper disappointment still. He turned to
+him with almost a friendly look.
+
+"You can't expect extraordinary motives from an ordinary man like me,"
+he said. "I must say in all fairness that you have made a generous
+proposal. If I spoke too violently and hastily, I hope you will overlook
+it. I was rather beside myself with rage--though not with the sort of
+regret which Mr. Brett kindly attributes to me."
+
+"I understood that," said Dino.
+
+By a sudden impulse Percival held out his hand. It was a strong
+testimony to Dino's earnestness and simplicity of character that the two
+parted friends after such a stormy interview.
+
+As they went out of the office together Percival said, abruptly:--
+
+"Where are you staying?"
+
+Dino named the place.
+
+"With the man you call Brian Luttrell?"
+
+"With Brian Luttrell."
+
+"What is the next thing you mean to do?"
+
+"I must tell Brian that I have betrayed his secret."
+
+"Oh, he won't be very angry with you for that!" laughed Percival.
+
+Dino shook his head. He was not so sure.
+
+As soon as they had separated, Percival went off at a swinging pace for
+a long walk. It was his usual way of getting rid of annoyance or
+excitement; and he was vexed to find that he could not easily shake off
+the effects that his conversation with Dino Vasari had produced upon his
+mind. The unselfishness, the devotion, of this man--younger than
+himself, with a brilliant future before him if only he chose to take
+advantage of it--appealed powerfully to his imagination. He tried to
+laugh at it: he called Dino hard names--"Quixotic fool," "dreamer," and
+"enthusiast"--but he could not forget that an ideal of conduct had been
+presented to his eyes, which was far higher than any which he should
+have thought possible for himself, and by a man upon whose profession of
+faith and calling he looked with profound contempt.
+
+He tried to disbelieve the story that he had been told. He tried hard to
+think that the man whom Elizabeth loved could not be Brian Luttrell. He
+strove to convince himself that Elizabeth would be happier with him than
+with the man she loved. Last of all he struggled desperately with the
+conviction that it was his highest duty to tell her the whole story, set
+her free, and let Brian marry her if he chose. With the respective
+claims of Dino, Brian, and Elizabeth to the estate, he felt that he had
+no need to interfere. They must settle it amongst themselves.
+
+Of one thing he wanted to make sure. Was the tutor who had come with the
+Herons from Italy indeed Brian Luttrell? How could he ascertain?
+
+Chance favoured him, he thought. On the following morning he met Hugo
+Luttrell in town, and accosted him with unusual eagerness.
+
+"I've an odd question to ask you," he said, "but I have a strong reason
+for it. You saw the tutor at Strathleckie when you were in Scotland?"
+
+"Yes," said Hugo, looking at him restlessly out of his long, dark eyes.
+
+"Had you any idea that Stretton was not his real name?"
+
+Hugo paused before he replied.
+
+"It is rather an odd question, certainly," he said, with a temporising
+smile. "May I ask what you want to know for?"
+
+"I was told that he came to the house under a feigned name: that's all."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"Oh, a person who knew him."
+
+"An Italian? A priest?"
+
+Hugo was thinking of the possibility of Father Christoforo's having made
+his way to England.
+
+"Yes," said Percival, dubiously. "A Benedictine monk, I believe. He
+hinted that you knew Stretton's real name."
+
+"Quite a mistake," said Hugo. "I know nothing about him. But your priest
+sounds romantic. An old fellow, isn't he, with grey hair?"
+
+"Not at all: young and slight, with dark eyes and rather a finely-cut
+face. Calls himself Dino Vasari or some such name."
+
+Hugo started: a yellowish pallor overspread his face. For a moment he
+stopped short in the street: then hurried on so fast that Percival was
+left a few steps behind.
+
+"What's the matter? So you know him?" said Heron, overtaking him by a
+few vigorous strides.
+
+"A little. He's the biggest scoundrel I ever met," replied Hugo,
+slackening his pace and trying to speak easily. "I was surprised at his
+being in England, that was all. Do you know where he lives, that I may
+avoid the street!" he added, laughing.
+
+Percival told him, wondering at his evident agitation.
+
+"Then you can't tell me anything about Stretton?" he said, as they came
+to a building which he was about to enter.
+
+"Nothing. Wish I could," said Hugo, turning away.
+
+"So he escaped, after all!" he murmured to himself, as he walked down
+the street, with an occasional nervous glance to the right and left. "I
+thought I had done my work effectually: I did not know I was such a
+bungler. Does he guess who attacked him, I wonder? I suppose not, or I
+should have heard of the matter before now. Fortunate that I took the
+precaution of drugging him first. What an escape! And he has got hold of
+Heron! I shall have to make sure of the old lady pretty soon, or I
+foresee that Netherglen--and Kitty--never will be mine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+FRIENDS AND BROTHERS.
+
+
+In a little room on the second-floor of a London lodging-house near
+Manchester-square, Brian Luttrell was packing a box, with the few scanty
+possessions that he called his own. He had little light to see by, for
+the slender, tallow candle burnt with a very uncertain flame: the glare
+of the gas lamps in the street gave almost a better light. The floor was
+uncarpeted, the furniture scanty and poor: the fire in the grate
+smouldered miserably, and languished for want of fuel. But there was a
+contented look on Brian's face. He even whistled and hummed to himself
+as he packed his box, and though the tune broke down, and ended with a
+sigh, it showed a mind more at ease than Brian's had been for many a
+long day.
+
+"Heigho!" he said, rising from his task, and giving the box a shove with
+his foot into a corner, "I wonder where Dino is? He ought not to be out
+so late with that cough of his. I suppose he has gone to Brett and
+Grattan's. I am glad the dear fellow has put himself into their hands.
+Right ought to be done: she would have said so herself, and I know Dino
+will be generous. It would suit him very well to take a money
+compensation, and let her continue to reign, with glories somewhat
+shorn, however, at Strathleckie. I am afraid he will do nothing but
+enrich San Stefano with his inheritance. He certainly will not settle
+down at Netherglen as a country squire.
+
+"What will my mother say? Pooh! I must get out of that habit of calling
+her my mother. She is no relation of mine, as she herself told me. Mrs.
+Luttrell!--it sounds a little odd. Odder, too, to think that I must
+never sign myself Brian Luttrell any more. Bernardino Vasari! I think I
+might as well stick to the plain John Stretton, which I adopted on the
+spur of the moment at San Stefano. I suppose I shall soon have to meet
+the woman who calls herself--who is--my mother. I will say nothing harsh
+or unkind to her, poor thing! She has done herself a greater injury than
+she has done me."
+
+So he meditated, with his face bent over his folded arms upon the
+mantelpiece. A slow step on the stair roused him, he poked the fire
+vigorously, lighted another candle, and then opened the door.
+
+"Is that you, Dino?" he said. "Where have you been for the last three
+hours?"
+
+Dino it was. He came in without speaking, and dropped into a chair, as
+if exhausted with fatigue. Brian repeated his question, but when Dino
+tried to answer it, a fit of coughing choked his words. It lasted
+several minutes, and left him panting, with the perspiration standing in
+great beads upon his brow.
+
+With a grave and anxious face Brian brought him some water, wrapped a
+cloak round his shaking shoulders, and stood by him, waiting for the
+paroxysm of coughing to abate. Dino's cough was seldom more than the
+little hacking one, which the wound in his side seemed to have left, but
+it was always apt to grow worse in cold or foggy weather, and at times
+increased to positive violence. Brian, who had visited him regularly
+while he was in hospital, and nursed him with a woman's tenderness as
+soon as he was discharged from it, had never known it to be so bad as it
+was on this occasion.
+
+"You've been overdoing yourself, old fellow," he said, affectionately,
+when Dino was able to look up and smile. "You have been out too late.
+And this den of mine is not the place for you. You must clear out of it
+as soon as you can."
+
+"Not as long as you are here," said Dino.
+
+"That was all very well as long as we could remain unknown. But now that
+Brett and Grattan consent to take up your case, as I knew they would all
+along, they will want to see you: your friends and relations will want
+to visit you; and you must not be found here with me. I'll settle you in
+new lodgings before I sail. There's a comfortable place in Piccadilly
+that I used to know, with a landlady who is honest and kind."
+
+"Too expensive for me," Dino murmured, with a pleasant light in his
+eyes, as Brian made preparations for their evening meal, with a skill
+acquired by recent practice.
+
+"You forget that your expenses will be paid out of the estate," said
+Brian, "in the long run. Did not Brett offer to advance you funds if you
+wanted them?"
+
+"Yes, and I declined them. I had enough from Father Christoforo,"
+answered Dino, rather faintly. "I did not like to run the risk of
+spending what I might not be able to repay."
+
+"Brett would not have offered you money if he did not feel very sure of
+his case. There can be no doubt of that," said Brian, as he set two
+cracked tea-cups on the table, and produced a couple of chops and a
+frying-pan from a cupboard. "You need not be afraid."
+
+For some minutes the sound of hissing and spluttering that came from the
+frying-pan effectually prevented any further attempts at conversation.
+When the cooking was over, Dino again addressed his friend.
+
+"Do you want to know what I have been doing?"
+
+"Yes, I mean you to give an account of yourself. But not until you have
+had some food. Eat and drink first; then talk."
+
+Dino smiled and came to the table. But he had no appetite: he swallowed
+a few mouthfuls, evidently to please Brian only; then went back to the
+solitary arm-chair by the fire, and closed his eyes.
+
+Brian did not disturb him. It was plain that Dino, not yet strong after
+his accident, had wearied himself out. He was glad, however, when the
+young man roused himself from a light and fitful doze, and said in his
+naturally tranquil voice:--
+
+"I am ready to give an account of myself, as you call it, now."
+
+"Then tell me," said Brian, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, and
+looking down upon the pale, somewhat emaciated countenance, with a
+tender smile, "what you mean by going about London in a dress which I
+thought that you had renounced for ever?"
+
+"It only means," said Dino, returning the smile, "that you were
+mistaken. I had not renounced it, and I think that I shall keep to it
+now."
+
+"You can hardly do that in your position," said Brian, quietly.
+
+"My position! What is that to me? 'I had rather be a door-keeper in the
+house of the Lord'--you know what I mean: I have said it all to you
+before. If I go back to Italy, Brian, and the case falls through, as it
+may do through lack of witnesses, will you not take your own again?"
+
+"And turn out Miss Murray? Certainly not." Then, after a pause, Brian
+asked, rather sternly, "What do you mean by the lack of witnesses? There
+are plenty of witnesses. There is--my--my mother--for one."
+
+"No. She is dead."
+
+"Dead. Vincenza Vasari dead?"
+
+Dino recounted to him briefly enough the details of the catastrophe, but
+acknowledged, in reply to his quick questions, that there was no
+necessity for his claim to be given up on account of the death of these
+two persons. Mr. Brett, with whom he had conferred before visiting
+Percival Heron, had assured him that there could be no doubt of his
+identity with the child whom Mrs. Luttrell had given Vincenza to nurse;
+and, knowing the circumstances, he thought it probable that the law-suit
+would be an amicable one, and that Miss Murray would consent to a
+compromise. All this, Dino repeated, though with some reluctance, to his
+friend.
+
+"You see, Brian," he continued, "there will be no reason for your hiding
+yourself if my case is proved. You would not be turning out Miss Murray
+or anybody else. You would be my friend, my brother, my helper. Will you
+not stay in England and be all this to me? I ask you, as I have asked
+you many times before, but I ask it now for the last time. Stay with me,
+and let it be no secret that you are living still."
+
+"I can't do it, Dino. I must go. You promised not to ask it of me again,
+dear old fellow."
+
+"Let me come with you, then. We will both leave Miss Murray to enjoy her
+inheritance in peace."
+
+"No, that would not be just."
+
+"Just! What do I care for justice?" said Dino, indignantly, while his
+eyes grew dark and his cheeks crimson with passionate feeling. "I care
+for you, for her, for the happiness of you both. Can I do nothing
+towards it?"
+
+"Nothing, I think, Dino mio."
+
+"But you will stay with me until you go? You will not cast me off as you
+have cast off your other friends? Promise me."
+
+"I promise you, Dino," said Brian, laying his hand soothingly on the
+other's shoulder. It seemed to him that Dino must be suffering from
+fever; that he was taking a morbidly exaggerated view of matters. But
+his next words showed that his excitement proceeded from no merely
+physical cause.
+
+"I have done you no harm, at any rate," he said, rising and holding
+Brian's hand between his own. "I have made up my mind. I will have none
+of this inheritance. It shall either be yours or hers. I do not want it.
+And I have taken the first step towards ridding myself of it."
+
+"What have you done?" said Brian.
+
+"Will you ever forgive me?" asked Dino, looking half-sadly,
+half-doubtfully, into his face. "I am not sure that you ever will. I
+have betrayed you. I have said that you were alive."
+
+Brian's face first turned red, then deathly pale. He withdrew his hand
+from Dino's grasp, and took a backward step.
+
+"You!" he said, in a stifled voice. "You! whom I thought to be my
+friend!"
+
+"I am your friend still," said Dino.
+
+Brian resumed his place by the mantelpiece, and played mechanically with
+the ornaments upon it. His face was pale still, but a little smile had
+begun to curve his lips.
+
+"So," he said, slowly, "my deep-laid plans are frustrated, it seems. I
+did not think you would have done this, Dino. I took a good deal of
+trouble with my arrangements."
+
+The tone of gentle satire went to Dino's heart. He looked appealingly at
+Brian, but did not speak.
+
+"You have made me look like a very big fool," said Brian, quietly, "and
+all to no purpose. You can't make me stay in England, you know, or
+present myself to be recognised by Mrs. Luttrell, and old Colquhoun. I
+shall vanish to South America under another name, and leave no trace
+behind, and the only result of your communication will be to disturb
+people's minds a little, and to make them suppose that I had repented of
+my very harmless deception, and was trying to get money out of you and
+Miss Murray."
+
+"Nobody would think so who knows you."
+
+"Who does know me? Not even you, Dino, if you think I would take
+advantage of what you have said to-night. Go to-morrow, and tell Brett
+that you were mistaken. It is Brett you have told, of course."
+
+"It is not Brett."
+
+"Who then?"
+
+"Mr. Percival Heron," said Dino, looking him steadily in the face.
+
+Brian drew himself up into an upright posture, with an ejaculation of
+astonishment. "Good Heavens, Dino! What have you been doing?"
+
+"My duty," answered Dino.
+
+"Your duty! Good Heavens!--unpardonable interference I should call it
+from any one but you. You don't understand the ways of the world! How
+should you, fresh from a Romish seminary? But you should understand that
+it is wiser, safer, not to meddle with the affairs of other people."
+
+"Your affairs are mine," said Dino, with his eyes on the ground.
+
+Brian laughed bitterly. "Hardly, I think. I have given no one any
+authority to act for me. I may manage my affairs badly, but on the whole
+I must manage them for myself."
+
+"I knew that I should have to bear your reproaches," said Dino, with
+folded arms and downcast eyes. Then, after a pause, during which Brian
+walked up and down the room impatiently, he added in a lower tone, "But
+I did not think that they would have been so bitter."
+
+Brian stopped short and looked at him, then came and laid his hand
+gently on his shoulder. "Poor Dino!" he said, "I ought to remember how
+unlike all the rest of the world you are. Forgive me. I did not mean to
+hurt you. No doubt you thought that you were acting for the best."
+
+Dino looked up, and met the somewhat melancholy kindness of Brian's
+gaze. His heart was already full: his impulsive nature was longing to
+assert itself: with one great sob he threw his arms round Brian's neck,
+and fell weeping upon his shoulder.
+
+"But, my dear Dino," said Brian, when the storm (the reason of which he
+understood very imperfectly) had subsided, "you must see that this
+communication of my secret to Mr. Heron will make a difference in my
+plans."
+
+"What difference?"
+
+"I must start to-morrow instead of next week."
+
+"No, Brian, no."
+
+"I must, indeed. Heron will tell your story to Brett, to Colquhoun, to
+Mrs. Luttrell, to Miss Murray. He may have telegraphed it already. It is
+very important to him, because, you see," said Brian, with a sad
+half-smile, "he is going to marry Miss Murray, and, unless he knows your
+history, he will think that my existence will deprive her of her
+fortune."
+
+"I do not believe he will tell your story to anyone."
+
+"Dino, caro mio! Heron is a man of honour. He can do nothing less,
+unfortunately."
+
+"I think he will do less. I think that no word of what I have told him
+will pass his lips."
+
+"It would be impossible for him to keep silence," remarked Brian,
+coldly, and Dino said nothing more.
+
+It was after a long silence, when the candle had died out, and the fire
+had grown so dim that they could not see each other's faces, that Brian
+said in a low, but quiet tone--
+
+"Did you tell him why I left Strathleckie?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+Brian suppressed a vexed exclamation. It was no use trying to make Dino
+understand his position.
+
+"What did he say?" he asked.
+
+"He knew already."
+
+"Ah! Yes. So I should have supposed." And there the conversation ended.
+
+Long after Dino was tranquilly sleeping, Brian Luttrell sat by the
+ricketty round table in the middle of the room labouring at the
+composition of one or two letters, which seemed very difficult to write.
+Sheet after sheet was torn up and thrown aside. The grey dawn was
+creeping in at the window before the last word was written, and the
+letters placed within their respective envelopes. Slowly and carefully
+he wrote the address of the longest letter--wrote it, as he thought, for
+the last time--Mrs. Luttrell, Netherglen, Dunmuir. Then he stole quietly
+out of the house, and slipped it into the nearest pillar-box. The other
+letter--a few lines merely--he put in his pocket, unaddressed. On his
+return he entered the tiny slip of a room which Dino occupied, fearing
+lest his movements should have disturbed the sleeper. But Dino had not
+stirred. Brian stood and looked at him for a little while, thinking of
+the circumstances in which they had first met, of the strange bond which
+subsisted between them, and lastly of the curious betrayal of his
+confidence, so unlike Dino's usual conduct, which Brian charitably set
+down to ignorance of English customs and absence of English reserve. He
+guessed no finer motive, and his mouth curled with an irrepressible, if
+somewhat mournful, smile, as he turned away, murmuring to himself:--
+
+"I have had my revenge."
+
+He did not leave England next day. Dino's entreaties weighed with him;
+and he knew also that he himself had acted in a way which was likely to
+nullify his friend's endeavours to reinstate him in his old position. He
+waited with more curiosity than apprehension for the letter, the
+telegram, the visit, that would assure him of Percival's uprightness.
+For Brian had no doubt in his own mind as to what Percival Heron ought
+to do. If he learnt that Brian Luttrell was still living, he ought to
+communicate the fact to Mr. Colquhoun at least. And if Mr. Colquhoun
+were the kindly old man that he used to be, he would probably hasten to
+London to shake hands once more with the boy that he had known and loved
+in early days. Brian was so certain of this that he caught himself
+listening for the door-bell, and rehearsing the sentences with which he
+should excuse his conduct to his kind, old friend.
+
+But two days passed away, and he watched in vain. No message, no
+visitor, came to show him that Percival Heron had told the story.
+Perhaps, however, he had written it in a letter. Brian silently
+calculated the time that a letter and its answer would take. He found
+that by post it was not possible to get a reply until an hour after the
+time at which he was to start.
+
+In those two days Dino had an interview with Mr. Brett, from which he
+returned looking anxious and uneasy. He told Brian, however, nothing of
+its import, and Brian did not choose to ask. The day and the hour of
+Brian's departure came without further conversation between them on the
+subject which was, perhaps, nearer than any other to their hearts. Dino
+wanted to accompany his friend to the ship by which he was to sail: but
+Brian steadily refused to let him do so. It was strange to see the
+relation between these two. In spite of his youth, Dino usually inspired
+a feeling of respect in the minds of other men: his peculiarly grave and
+tranquil manner made him appear older and more experienced than he
+really was. But with Brian, he fell naturally into the position of a
+younger brother: he seemed to take a delight in leaning upon Brian's
+judgment, and surrendering his own will. He had been brought up to
+depend upon others in this way all through his life; but Brian saw
+clearly enough that the habit was contrary to his native temperament,
+and that, when once freed from the leading-strings in which he had
+hitherto been kept, he would certainly prove himself a man of remarkably
+strong and clear judgment. It was this conviction that caused Brian to
+persist in his intention of going to South America: Dino would do better
+when left to himself, than when leaning upon Brian, as his affection led
+him to do.
+
+"You will come back," said Dino, in a tone that admitted of no
+contradiction. "I know you will come back."
+
+"Dino mio, you will come to see me some day, perhaps," said Brian.
+"Listen. I leave their future in your care. Do you understand? Make it
+possible for them to be happy."
+
+"I will do what is possible to bring you home again."
+
+"Caro mio, that is not possible," said Brian. "Do not try. You see this
+letter? Keep it until I have been an hour gone; then open it. Will you
+promise me that?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"And now good-bye. Success and good fortune to you," said Brian, trying
+to smile. "When we meet again----"
+
+"Shall we ever meet again?" said Dino, with one arm round Brian's neck,
+with his eyes looking straight into Brian's, with a look of pathetic
+longing which his friend never could forget. "Or is it a last farewell?
+Brother--my brother--God bless thee, and bring thee home at last." But
+it was of no earthly home that Dino thought.
+
+And then they parted.
+
+It was more than an hour before Dino thought of opening the letter which
+Brian had left with him. It ran as follows:--
+
+"Dino mio, pardon me if I have done wrongly. You told my story and I
+have told yours. I feared lest you, in your generosity, should hide the
+truth, and therefore I have written fully to your mother. Go to her if
+she sends for you, and remember that she has suffered much. I have told
+her that you have the proofs: show them to her, and she will be
+convinced. God bless you, my only friend and brother."
+
+Dino's head dropped upon his hands. Were all his efforts vain to free
+himself from the burden of a wealth which he did not desire? The Prior
+of San Stefano had forced him into the position of a claimant to the
+estate. With his long-formed habits of obedience it seemed impossible to
+gainsay the Prior's will. Here, in England, it was easier. And Dino was
+more and more resolved to take his own way.
+
+A letter was brought to him at that moment. He opened it, and let his
+eyes run mechanically down the sheet. Then he started violently, and
+read it again with more attention. It contained one sentence and a
+signature:--
+
+"If Dino Vasari of San Stefano will visit me at Netherglen, I will hear
+what he has to say.
+
+    "Margaret Luttrell."
+
+Could he have expected more? And yet, to his excited fancy, the words
+seemed cold and hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+ACCUSER AND ACCUSED.
+
+
+There had been solemn council in the house of Netherglen. Mrs. Luttrell
+and Mr. Colquhoun had held long interviews; letters and papers of all
+sorts had been produced and compared; the dressing-room door was closed
+against all comers, and even Angela was excluded. Hugo was once
+summoned, and came away from the conference with the air of a desperate
+man at once baffled and fierce. He lurked about the dark corners of the
+house, as if he were afraid to appear in the light of the day; but he
+took no one into his confidence. Fortune, character, life itself,
+perhaps, seemed to him to be hanging on a thread. For, if Dino Vasari
+remembered his treachery and exposed it, he knew that he should be
+ruined and disgraced. And he was resolved not to survive any such public
+exposure. He would die by his own hand rather than stand in the dock as
+a would-be murderer.
+
+Even if things were not so bad as that, he did not see how he was to
+exonerate himself from another charge; a minor one, indeed, but one
+which might make him look very black in some people's eyes. He had known
+of Dino's claims for many weeks, as well as of Brian's existence. Why
+had he told no one of his discoveries? What if Dino spoke of the tissue
+of lies which he had concocted, the forgery of Brian's handwriting, in
+the interview which they had had in Tarragon-street? Fortunately, Dino
+had burned the letter, and there had been no auditor of the
+conversation. Of course, he must deny that he had known anything of the
+matter. Dino could prove nothing against him; he could only make
+assertions. But assertions were awkward things sometimes.
+
+So Hugo skulked and frowned and listened, and was told nothing definite;
+but saw by the light of previous knowledge that there was great
+excitement in the bosoms of his aunt and the family lawyer. There were
+letters and telegrams sent off, and Hugo was disgusted to find that he
+could not catch sight of their addresses, much less of their contents.
+Mr. Colquhoun looked gloomy; Mrs. Luttrell sternly exultant. What was
+going on? Was Brian coming home; or was Dino to be recognised in Brian's
+place?
+
+Hugo knew nothing. But one fine autumn morning, as he was standing in
+the garden at Netherglen, he saw a dog-cart turn in at the gate, a
+dog-cart in which four men had with some difficulty squeezed
+themselves--the driver, Mr. Colquhoun, Dino Vasari, and a red-faced man,
+whom Hugo recognised, after a minute's hesitation, as the well-known
+solicitor, Mr. Brett.
+
+Hugo drew back into the shrubbery and waited. He dared not show himself.
+He was trembling in every limb. The hour of his disgrace was drawing
+near.
+
+Should he take advantage of the moment, and leave Netherglen at once, or
+should he wait and face it out? After a little reflection he determined
+to wait. From what he had seen of Dino Vasari he fancied that it would
+not be easy to manage him. Yet he seemed to be a simple-minded youth,
+fresh from the precincts of a monastery: he could surely by degrees be
+cajoled or bullied into silence. If he did accuse Hugo of treachery, it
+was better, perhaps, that the accused should be on the spot to justify
+himself. If only Hugo could see him before the story had been told to
+Mrs. Luttrell!
+
+He loitered about the house for some time, then went to his own room,
+and began to pack up various articles which he should wish to take away
+with him, if Mrs. Luttrell expelled him from the house. At every sound
+upon the stairs, he paused in his occupation and looked around
+nervously. When the luncheon-bell rang he actually dared not go down to
+the dining-room. He summoned a servant, and ordered brandy and water and
+a biscuit, alleging I an attack of illness as an excuse for his
+non-appearance. And, indeed, the suspense and anxiety which he was
+enduring made him feel and look really ill. He was sick with the agony
+of his dread.
+
+The afternoon wore on. His window commanded a view of the drive: he was
+sure that the guests had not yet left the house. It was four o'clock
+when somebody at length approached his door, knocked, and then shook the
+door-handle.
+
+"Hugo! Are you there?" It was Mr. Colquhoun's voice. "Can't you open the
+door?"
+
+Hugo hesitated a moment: then turned the key, leaving Mr. Colquhoun to
+enter if he pleased. He came in looking rather astonished at this mode
+of admittance.
+
+"So! It's sick, you are, is it? Well, I don't exactly wonder at that.
+You've lost your chance of Netherglen, Mr. Hugo Luttrell."
+
+Hugo's face grew livid. He looked to Mr. Colquhoun for explanation, but
+did not speak.
+
+"It's just the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, seating himself in the least comfortable chair the room
+afforded, and rubbing his forehead with a great, red silk-handkerchief.
+"Brian alive, and meeting with the very man who had a claim to the
+estate! Though, of course, if one thinks of it, it is only natural they
+should meet, when Mrs. Luttrell, poor body, had been fool enough to send
+Brian to San Stefano, the very place where the child was brought up. You
+know the story?"
+
+"No," said Hugo. His heart began to beat wildly. Had Dino kept silence
+after all?
+
+Mr. Colquhoun launched forth upon the whole history, to which Hugo
+listened without a word of comment. He was leaning against the
+window-frame, in a position from which he could still see the drive, and
+his face was so white that Mr. Colquhoun at last was struck by its
+pallor.
+
+"Man alive, are you going to faint, Hugo? What's wrong?"
+
+"Nothing. I've had a headache. Then my aunt is satisfied as to the
+genuineness of this claim?"
+
+"Satisfied! She's more than satisfied," said the old lawyer, with a
+groan. "I doubt myself whether the court will see the matter in the same
+light. If Miss Murray, or if Brian Luttrell, would make a good fight, I
+don't believe this Italian fellow would win the case. He might. Brett
+says he would; But Brian--God bless him! he might have told me he was
+living still--Brian has gone off to America, poor lad! and Elizabeth
+Murray--well, I'll make her fight, if I can, but I doubt--I doubt."
+
+"My aunt wants this fellow to have Strathleckie and Netherglen, too,
+then?"
+
+"Yes, she does; so you are cut out there, Hugo. Don't build on
+Netherglen, if Margaret Luttrell's own son is living. I must be going:
+Brett's to dine with me. I used to know him in London."
+
+"Is Dino Vasari staying here, then?"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun raised a warning finger. "You'll have to learn to call him
+by another name, if he stays in this house, young man," he said. "He
+declines to be called Brian--he has that much good sense--but it seems
+that Dino is short for Bernardino, or some such mouthful, and we're to
+call him Bernard to avoid confusion. Bernard Luttrell--humph!--I don't
+know whether he will stay the night or not. We met Miss Murray on our
+way up. The young man looked at her uncommonly hard, and asked who she
+was. I think he was rather struck with her. Good-bye, Hugo; take care of
+yourself, and don't be too downhearted. Poor Brian always told me to
+look after you, and I will." But the assurance did not carry the
+consolation to Hugo's mind which Mr. Colquhoun intended.
+
+The two lawyers drove away to Dunmuir together. Hugo watched the red
+lamps of the dog-cart down the road, and then turned away from the
+window with a gnawing sense of anxiety, which grew more imperious every
+moment. He felt that he must do something to relieve it. He knew where
+the interview with Dino was taking place. Mrs. Luttrell had lately been
+growing somewhat infirm: a slight stroke of paralysis, dangerous only in
+that it was probably the precursor of other attacks, had rendered
+locomotion particularly distasteful to her. She did not like to feel
+that she was dependent upon others for aid, and, therefore, sat usually
+in a wheeled chair in her dressing-room, and it was the most easily
+accessible room from her sleeping apartment. She was in her
+dressing-room now, and Dino Vasari was with her.
+
+Hugo stole quietly through the passage until he reached the door of Mrs.
+Luttrell's bed-room, which was ajar. He slipped into the room and looked
+round. It was dimly lighted by the red glow of the fire, and by this dim
+light he saw that the door into the dressing-room was also not quite
+closed. He could hear the sound of voices. He paused a moment, and then
+advanced. There was a high screen near the door, of which one fold was
+so close to the wall that only a slight figure could slip behind it,
+though, when once behind there, it would be entirely hidden. Hugo
+measured it with his eye: he would have to pass the aperture of the door
+to reach it, but a cautious glance from a distance assured him that both
+Mrs. Luttrell and Dino had their backs to him and could not see. He
+ensconced himself, therefore, between the screen and the wall: he could
+see nothing, but every word fell distinctly upon his ear.
+
+"Sit down beside me," Mrs. Luttrell was saying--how could her voice have
+grown so tender?--"and tell me everything about your past life. I
+knew--I always knew--that that other child was not my son. I have my own
+Brian now. Call me mother: it is long since I have heard the word."
+
+"Mother!" Dino's musical tones were tremulous. "My mother! I have
+thought of her all my life."
+
+"Ay, my poor son, and but for the wickedness of others, I might have
+seen and known you years ago. I had an interloper in my house throughout
+all those years, and he worked me the bitterest sorrow of my life."
+
+"Do not speak so of Brian, mother," said Dino, gently. "He loved
+you--and he loved Richard. His loss--his grief--has been greater even
+than yours."
+
+"How dare you say so to me?" said Mrs. Luttrell, with a momentary return
+to her old, grim tones. Then, immediately softening them--"But you may
+say anything you like. It is pleasure enough to hear your voice. You
+must stay with me, Brian, and let me feast my eyes on you for a time. I
+have no patience, no moderation left: 'my son was dead and is alive
+again, he was lost and is found.'"
+
+He raised his mother's hand and kissed it silently. The action would, of
+course, have been lost upon Hugo, as he could not see the pair, but for
+Mrs. Luttrell's next words.
+
+"Nay," she said, "kiss me on the cheek, not on the hand, Brian. I let
+Hugo Luttrell do it, because of his foreign blood; but you have only a
+foreign training which you must forget. They said something about your
+wearing a priest's dress: I am glad you did not wear it here, for you
+would have been mobbed in Dunmuir. It's a sad pity that you're a Papist,
+Brian; but we must set Mr. Drummond, our minister, to talk to you, and
+he'll soon show you the error of your ways."
+
+"I shall be very glad to hear what Mr. Drummond has to say," said Dino,
+with all the courtesy which his monastic training had instilled; "but I
+fear that he will have his labour thrown away. And I have one or two
+things to tell you, mother, now that those gentlemen have gone. If I am
+to disappoint you, let me do it at once, so that you may understand."
+
+"Disappoint me? and how can you do that?" asked Mrs. Luttrell,
+scornfully. "Perhaps you mean that you will winter in the South! If your
+health requires it, do you think I would stand in the way? You have a
+sickly air, but it makes you all the more like one whom I well
+remember--your father's brother, who died of a decline in early youth.
+No, go if you like; I will not tie you down. You can come back in the
+summer, and then we will think about your settling down and marrying.
+There are plenty of nice girls in the neighbourhood, though none so good
+as Angela, nor perhaps so handsome as Elizabeth Murray."
+
+"Mother, I shall never marry."
+
+"Not marry? and why not?" cried Mrs. Luttrell, indignantly. "But you say
+this to tease me only; being a Luttrell--the only Luttrell, indeed, save
+Hugo, that remains--you must marry and continue the family."
+
+"I shall never marry," said Dino, with a firmness which at last seemed
+to make an impression upon Mrs. Luttrell, "because I am going to be a
+monk."
+
+Hugo could not stifle a quick catching of his breath. Did Dino mean what
+he said? And what effect would this decision have upon the lives of the
+many persons whose future seemed to be bound up with his? What would
+Mrs. Luttrell say?
+
+At first she said nothing. And then Dino's voice was heard again.
+
+"Mother, my mother, do not look at me like that. I must follow my
+vocation. I would have given myself years ago, but I was not allowed.
+The Prior will receive me now. And nothing on earth will turn me from my
+resolution. I have made up my mind."
+
+"What!" said Mrs. Luttrell, very slowly. "You will desert me too, after
+all these years!"
+
+Dino answered by repeating in Latin the words--"He that loveth father or
+mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me." But Mrs. Luttrell interrupted
+him angrily.
+
+"I want none of your Latin gibberish," she said. "I want plain
+commonsense. If you go into a monastery, do you intend to give the
+property to the monks? Perhaps you want to turn Netherglen into a
+convent, and establish a priory at Strathleckie? Well, I cannot prevent
+you. What fools we are to think that there is any happiness in this
+world!"
+
+"Mother!" said Dino, and his voice was very gentle, "let me speak to you
+of another before we talk about the estates. Let me speak to you of
+Brian."
+
+"Brian!" Her voice had a checked tone for a moment; then she recovered
+herself and spoke in her usual harsh way. "I know no one of that name
+but you."
+
+"I mean my friend whom you thought to be your son for so many years,
+mother. Have you no tenderness for him? Do you not think of him with a
+little love and pity? Let me tell you what he suffered. When he came to
+us first at San Stefano he was nearly dying of grief. It was long before
+we nursed him back to health. When I think how we all learnt to love
+him, mother, I cannot but believe that you must love him, too."
+
+"I never loved him," said Mrs. Luttrell. "He stood in your place. If you
+had a spark of proper pride in you, you would know that he was your
+enemy, and you will feel towards him as I do."
+
+"He is an enemy that I have learned to love," answered Dino. "At any
+rate, mother"--his voice always softened when he called her by that
+name--"at any rate, you will try to love him now."
+
+"Why now?" She asked the question sharply.
+
+"Because I mean him to fill my place."
+
+There was a little silence, in which the fall of a cinder from the grate
+could be distinctly heard. Then Mrs. Luttrell uttered a long, low moan.
+"Oh, my God!" she said. "What have I done that I should be tormented in
+this way?"
+
+"Mother, mother, do not say so," said Dino, evidently with deep emotion.
+Then, in a lower and more earnest voice, he added--"Perhaps if you had
+tried to love the child that Vincenza placed within your arms that day,
+you would have felt joy and not sorrow now."
+
+"Do you dare to rebuke your mother?" said Mrs. Luttrell, fiercely. "If I
+had loved that child, I would never have acknowledged you to-day. Not
+though all the witnesses in the world swore to your story."
+
+"That perhaps would have been the better for me," said Dino, softly.
+"Mother, I am going away from you for ever; let me leave you another
+son. He has never grieved you willingly; forgive him for those
+misfortunes which he could not help; love him instead of me."
+
+"Never!"
+
+"He has gone to the other side of the world, but I think he would come
+back if he knew that you had need of him. Let me send him a line, a
+word, from you: make him the master of Netherglen, and let me go in
+peace."
+
+"I will not hear his name, I will not tolerate his presence within these
+walls," cried Mrs. Luttrell, passionately. "He was never dear to me,
+never; and he is hateful to me now. He has robbed me of both my sons:
+his hand struck Richard down, and for twenty-three years he usurped your
+place. I will never see him again. I will never forgive him so long as
+my tongue can speak."
+
+"Then may God forgive you," said Dino, in a strangely solemn voice, "for
+you are doing a worse injustice, a worse wrong, than that done by the
+poor woman who tried to put her child in your son's place. Have you held
+that child upon your knee, kissed his face, and seen him grow up to
+manhood, without a particle of love for him in your heart? Did you send
+him away from you with bitter reproaches, because of the accident which
+he would have given his own life to prevent? You have spoilt his life,
+and you do not care. Your heart is hard then, and God will not let that
+hardness go unpunished. Mother, pray that his judgments may not descend
+upon you for this."
+
+"You have no right to talk to me in that way," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+a great effort. "I have not been unjust. You are ungrateful. If you go
+away from me, I will leave all that I possess to Hugo, as I intended to
+do. Brian, as you call him--Vincenza Vasari's son--shall have nothing."
+
+"And Brian is to be disinherited in favour of Hugo Luttrell, is he?"
+said Dino, in a still lower voice, but one which the listener felt
+instinctively had a dangerous sound. "Do you know what manner of man
+this Hugo Luttrell is, that you wish to enrich him with your wealth, and
+make him the master of Netherglen?"
+
+"I know no harm of him," she answered.
+
+He paused a little, and turned his face--was it consciously or
+unconsciously?--towards the open door, from which could be seen the
+screen, behind which the unhappy listener crouched and quivered in agony
+of fear. Willingly would Hugo have turned and fled, but flight was now
+impossible. The fire was blazing brightly, and threw a red glow over all
+the room. If he emerged from behind the screen, his figure would be
+distinctly visible to Dino, whose face was turned in that direction.
+What was he going to say?
+
+"I know no harm of him," she answered.
+
+"Then I will enlighten you. Hugo Luttrell knew that Brian was alive,
+that I was in England, two months ago. A letter from the Prior of San
+Stefano must have been in some way intercepted by him; he made use of
+his knowledge, however he obtained it, to bring the messages from Brian
+which were utterly false, to try and induce me to relinquish my claim on
+you; he forged a letter from Brian for that purpose; and finally----"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell's voice, harsh and strident with emotion, against which
+she did her best to fight, broke the sudden silence.
+
+"Do you call it fair and right," she said, "to accuse a man of such
+faults as these behind his back? If you want to tell me anything against
+Hugo, send for him and tell it to me in his presence. Then he can defend
+himself."
+
+"He will try to defend himself, no doubt," said Dino, with a note of
+melancholy scorn in his grave, young voice. "But I will do nothing
+behind his back. You wish him to be summoned?"
+
+"Yes, I do. Ring the bell instantly!" cried Mrs. Luttrell, whose loving
+ardour seemed to have given way to the most unmitigated resentment.
+
+"Tell the servants to find him and bring him here."
+
+"They would not have far to go," said Dino, coolly. "He is close to
+hand. Hugo Luttrell, come here and answer for yourself."
+
+"What do you mean? Where is he?" exclaimed Mrs. Luttrell, struck with
+his tone of command. "He is not in this room!"
+
+"No, but he is in the next, hiding behind that screen. He has been there
+for the last half-hour. You need play the spy no longer, sir. Have the
+goodness to step forward and show yourself."
+
+The inexorable sternness of his voice struck the listeners with amaze.
+Pale as a ghost, trembling like an aspen leaf, Hugo emerged from his
+hiding-place, and confronted the mother and the son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+RETRIBUTION.
+
+
+"Confess!" said Dino, whose stern voice and outstretched, pointing
+finger seemed terrible as those of some accusing and avenging angel to
+the wretched culprit. "Confess that I have only told the truth. Confess
+that you lied and forged and cheated | to gain your own ends. Confess
+that when other means failed you tried to kill me. Confess--and
+then"--with a sudden lowering of his tones to the most wonderful
+exquisite tenderness--"God knows that I shall be ready to forgive!"
+
+But the last words passed unheeded. Hugo cowered before his eye, covered
+his ears with his hands, and made a sudden dash to the door, with a cry
+that was more like the howl of a hunted wild animal, than the utterance
+of a human being. Mrs. Luttrell called for help, and half-rose from her
+chair. But Dino laid his hand upon her arm.
+
+"Let him go," said he. "I have no desire to punish him. But I must warn
+you."
+
+The door clanged behind the flying figure, and awakened the echoes of
+the old house. Hugo was gone: whither they knew not: away, perhaps, into
+the world of darkness that reigned without. Mrs. Luttrell sank back into
+her chair, trembling from head to foot.
+
+"Mother," said Dino, going up to her, and kneeling before her, "forgive
+me if I have spoken too violently. But I could not bear that you should
+never know what sort of man this Hugo Luttrell has grown to be."
+
+Her hand closed convulsively on his. "How--how did you know--that he was
+there?"
+
+"I saw his reflection in the mirror before me as he passed the open
+door. He was afraid, and he hid himself there to listen. Mother, never
+trust him again."
+
+"Never--never," she stammered. "Stay with me--protect me."
+
+"You will not need my protection," he said, looking at her with calm,
+surprised eyes. "You will have your friends: Mr. Colquhoun, and the
+beautiful lady that you call Angela. And, for my sake, let me think that
+you will have Brian, too."
+
+"No, no!" Her voice took new strength as she answered him, and she
+snatched her hand angrily away from his close clasp. "I will never speak
+to him again."
+
+"Not even when he returns?"
+
+"You told me that he was gone to America!"
+
+"I feel sure that some day he will come back. He will learn the
+truth--that I have withdrawn my claim; then he and Miss Murray must
+settle the matter of property between them. They may divide it; or they
+might even marry."
+
+His voice was perfectly calm; he had brooded over this arrangement for
+so long that it scarcely struck him how terrible it would sound in Mrs.
+Luttrell's ears.
+
+"Do you mean it?" she said, feebly. "You renounce your claim--to be--my
+son?"
+
+"Oh, not your son, mother," he said, kissing the cold hand, which she
+immediately drew away from him. "Not your son! Not the claim to be
+loved, and the right to love you! But let that rest between ourselves.
+Why should the money that I do not want come between me and you, between
+me and my friend? Let Brian come home, and you will have two sons
+instead of one."
+
+"Rather say that I shall have no son at all," said Mrs. Luttrell, with
+gathering anger. "If you do this thing I cast you off. I forbid you to
+give what is your own to Vincenza Vasari's son."
+
+"You make it hard for me to act if you forbid me," said Dino, rising and
+standing before her with a pleading look upon his face. "But I hold to
+my intention, mother. I will not touch a penny of this fortune. It shall
+be Brian's, or Miss Murray's--never mine."
+
+"The matter is in a lawyer's hands. Your rights will be proved in spite
+of you."
+
+"I do not think they will. I hold the proofs in my hand. I can destroy
+them every one, if I choose."
+
+"But you will not choose. Besides, these are the copies, not the
+originals."
+
+"No, excuse me. I obtained the originals from Mr. Brett. He expects me
+to take them back to him to-night." Dino held out a roll of papers.
+"They're all here. I will not burn them, mother, if you will send for
+Brian back and let him have his share."
+
+"They would be no use if he came back. You must have the whole or
+nothing. Let us make a bargain; give up your scheme of entering a
+monastery, and then I will consent to some arrangement with Brian about
+money matters. But I will never see him!"
+
+Dino shook his head. He turned to the fireplace with the papers in his
+hand.
+
+"I withdraw my claims," he said, simply.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell was quivering with suppressed excitement, but she mastered
+herself sufficiently to speak with perfect coldness.
+
+"Unless you consent to abandon a monastic life, I would rather that your
+claims were given up," she said. "Let Elizabeth Murray keep the
+property, and do you and the man Vasari go your separate ways."
+
+"Mother----"
+
+"Call me 'mother' no longer," she said, sternly, "you are no more my son
+than he was, if you can leave me, in my loneliness and widowhood, to be
+a monk."
+
+"Then--this is the end," said Dino.
+
+With a sudden movement of the hand he placed the roll of papers in the
+very centre of the glowing fire. Mrs. Luttrell uttered a faint cry, and
+struggled to rise to her feet, but she had not the strength to do so.
+Besides, it was too late. With the poker, Dino held down the blazing
+mass, until nothing but a charred and blackened ruin remained. Then he
+laid down the poker, and faced Mrs. Luttrell with a wavering but
+victorious smile.
+
+"It is done," he said, with something of exultation in his tone. "Now I
+am free. I have long seen that this was the only thing to do. And now I
+can acknowledge that the temptation was very great."
+
+With lifted head and kindling eye, he looked, in this hour of triumph
+over himself, as if no temptation had ever assailed, or ever could
+assail, him. But then his glance fell upon Mrs. Luttrell, whose hands
+fiercely clutched the arms of her chair, whose features worked with
+uncontrollable agitation. He fell on his knees before her.
+
+"Mother!" he cried. "Forgive me. Perhaps I was wrong. I will--I will ...
+I will pray for you."
+
+The last few words were spoken after a long pause, with a fall in his
+voice, which showed that they were not those which he had intended to
+say when he began the sentence. There was something solemn and pathetic
+in the sound. But Mrs. Luttrell would not hear.
+
+"Go!" she said, hoarsely. "Go. You are no son of mine. Sooner Brian--or
+Hugo--than you. Go back to your monastery."
+
+She thrust him away from her with her hands when he tried to plead. And
+at last he saw that there was no use in arguing, for she pulled a bell
+which hung within her reach, and, when the servant appeared, she placed
+the matter beyond dispute by saying sharply:--
+
+"Show this gentleman out."
+
+Dino looked at her face, clasped his hands in one last silent entreaty,
+and--went. There was no use in staying longer. The door closed behind
+him, and the woman who had thrust away from her the love that might have
+been hers, but for her selfishness and hardness of heart, was left
+alone.
+
+A whirl of raging, angry thoughts made her brain throb and reel. She had
+put away from her what might have been the great joy of her life; her
+will, which had never been controlled by another, had been simply set
+aside and disregarded. What was there left for her to do? All the
+repentance in the world would not give her back the precious papers that
+her son had burnt before her eyes. And where had he gone? Back to his
+monastery? Should she never, never see him again? Was he tramping the
+long and weary way to the Dunmuir station, where the railway engine
+would presently come shrieking and sweeping out of the darkness, and,
+like a fabled monster in some old fairy tale, gather him into its
+embrace, and bear him away to a place whence he would never more return?
+
+So grotesque this fancy appeared to her that her anger failed her, and
+she laughed a little to herself--laughed with bloodless lips that made
+no sound. A kind of numbness of thought came over her: she sat for a
+little time in blank unconsciousness of her sorrow, and yet she did not
+sleep. And then a host of vividly-pictured images began to succeed each
+other with frightful rapidity across the _tabula rasa_ of her mind.
+
+It seemed to her in that quiet hour she saw her son as he walked dawn
+the dark road to Dunmuir. The moon was just rising; the trees on either
+hand lifted their gaunt branches to a wild and starless sky. Whose face,
+white as that of a corpse, gleamed from between those leafless stems?
+Hugo's, surely. And what did he hold in his hand? Was it a knife on
+which a faint ray of moonlight was palely reflected? He was watching for
+that solitary traveller who came with heedless step and hanging head
+upon the lonely road. In another moment the spring would be taken, the
+thrust made, and a dying man's blood would well out upon the stones.
+Could she do nothing? "Brian! Brian!" she cried--or strove to cry; but
+the shriek seemed to be stifled before it left her lips. "Brian!" Three
+times she tried to call his name, with an agony of effort which,
+perhaps, brought her back to consciousness--for the dream, if dream it
+was, vanished, and she awoke.
+
+Awoke--to the remembrance of what she had heard, concerning Hugo's
+attempt on Dino's life, and the fact that she had sent her son out of
+the house to walk to Dunmuir alone. She was not so blind to Hugo's
+inherited proclivities to passion and revenge as she pretended to be.
+She knew that he was a dangerous enemy, and that Dino had incurred his
+hatred. What might not happen on that lonely road between Netherglen and
+Dunmuir if Dino (Brian, she called him) traversed it unwarned, alone,
+unarmed? She must send servants after him at once, to guard him as he
+went upon his way. She heard her maid in the next room. Should she call
+Janet, or should she ring the bell?
+
+What a curiously-helpless sensation had come over her! She did not seem
+able to rouse herself. She could not lift her hand. She was tired; that
+was it. She would call Janet. "Janet!" But Janet did not hear.
+
+How was it that she could not speak? Her faculties were as clear as
+usual: her memory was as strong as ever it had been. She knew exactly
+what she wanted: she could arrange in her own mind the sentences that
+she wished to say. But, try as she would, she could not articulate a
+word, she could not raise a finger, or make a sign. And again the
+terrible dread of what would happen to the son she loved took possession
+of her mind.
+
+Oh, if only he would return, she would let him have his way. What did it
+matter that the proof of his birth had been destroyed? She would
+acknowledge him as her son before all the world; and she would let him
+divide his heritage with whomsoever he chose. Netherglen should be his,
+and the three claimants might settle between themselves, whether the
+rest of the property should belong to one of them, or be divided amongst
+the three. He might even go back to San Stefano; she would love him and
+bless him throughout, if only she knew that his life was safe. She went
+further. She seemed to be pleading with fate--or rather with God--for
+the safety of her son. She would receive Brian with open arms; she would
+try to love him for Dino's sake. She would do all and everything that
+Dino required from her, if only she could conquer this terrible
+helplessness of feeling, this dumbness of tongue which had come over
+her. Surely it was but a passing phase: surely when someone came and
+stood before her the spell would be broken, and she would be able to
+speak once more.
+
+The maid peeped in, thought she was sleeping, and quietly retired. No
+one ventured to disturb Mrs. Luttrell if she nodded, for at night she
+slept so little that even a few minutes' slumber in the daytime was a
+boon to her. A silent, motionless figure in her great arm-chair, with
+her hands folded before her in her lap, she sat--not sleeping--with all
+her senses unnaturally sharpened, it seemed to her; hearing every sound
+in the house, noting every change in the red embers of the fire in which
+the proof of her son's history had been consumed, and all the while
+picturing to herself some terrible tragedy going on outside the house,
+which a word from her might have averted. And she not able to pronounce
+that word!
+
+Dino, meanwhile, had plunged into the darkness, without a thought of
+fear for himself. He walked away from the house just as she had seen him
+in her waking dream, with head bent and eyes fixed on the ground. He
+took the right road to Dunmuir, more by accident than by design, and
+walked beneath the rows of sheltering trees, through which the loch
+gleamed whitely on the one hand, while on the other the woods looked
+ominously black, without a thought of the revengeful ferocity which
+lurked beneath the velvet smoothness of Hugo Luttrell's outer demeanour.
+If something moved amongst the trees on his right hand, if something
+crouched amongst the brushwood, like a wild animal prepared to spring,
+he neither saw nor heard the tokens which might have moved him to
+suspicion. But suddenly it seemed to him that a wild cry rang out upon
+the stillness of the night air. His friend's name--or was it his
+own?--three times repeated, in tones of heartrending pain and terror.
+"Brian! Brian! Brian!" Whose voice had called him? Not that of anyone he
+knew. And yet, what stranger would use that name? He stopped, looked
+round, and answered:--
+
+"Yes, I am here."
+
+And then it struck him that the voice had been close beside him, and
+that, standing where he stood in the middle of the long, white road, it
+was quite impossible that any one could be so near, and yet remain
+unseen.
+
+With a slight shudder he let his eyes explore the sides of the road: the
+hedgerows, and the bank that rose on his right hand towards the wood.
+Surely there was something that moved and stopped, and moved again
+amongst the bracken. With one bound Dino reached the moving object, and
+dragged it forth into the light. He knew whom he was touching before he
+saw the face. It was Hugo who lurked in the hedgerows, waiting--and for
+what?
+
+"You heard it?" said Dino, as the young man crouched before him,
+scarcely daring to lift up his head, although at that moment, if he had
+had his wits about him, he could not have had a better chance for the
+accomplishment of any sinister design. "Who called?"
+
+Hugo cast a quick startled glance at the wood behind him. "I heard
+nothing," he said, sullenly.
+
+"I heard a voice that called me," said Dino. Then he looked at Hugo, and
+pressed his shoulder somewhat heavily with his hand. "What were you
+doing there? For whom were you waiting?"
+
+"For nobody," muttered Hugo.
+
+"Are you sure of that? I could almost believe that you were waiting for
+me; and should I be far wrong? When I think of that other time, when you
+deceived me, and trapped me, and left me dying, as you thought, in the
+streets, I can believe anything of you now."
+
+Hugo's trembling lips refused to articulate a word. He could neither
+deny the charge nor plead for mercy.
+
+Dino's exultation of mood led him to despise an appeal to any but the
+higher motives. He would not condescend to threaten Hugo with the
+police-court and the criminal cell. He loosed his hold on the young
+man's shoulder, and told him to rise from the half-kneeling posture, to
+which fear, rather than Dino's strength, had brought him. And when Hugo
+stood before him, he spoke in the tone of one to whom the spiritual side
+of life was more real, more important than any other, and it seemed to
+Hugo as if he spoke from out some other world.
+
+"There is a day coming," he said, "when the secrets of all men's hearts
+will be revealed. And where will you be, what will you do in that dread
+day? When you stand before the Judge of all men on His great white
+Throne, how will you justify yourself to Him?"
+
+The strong conviction, the deep penetrating accents of his words,
+carried a sting to Hugo's conscience. He felt as if Dino had a
+supernatural knowledge of his past life and his future, when he said
+solemnly:--
+
+"Think of the secrets of your heart which shall then be made known to
+all men. What have you done? Have you not broken God's laws? Have you
+not in very truth committed murder?... There is a commandment in God's
+Word which says, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"
+
+"Stop, stop, for Heaven's sake, stop!" gasped Hugo, covering his face
+with his hands. "How can you know all this? I did not mean to kill him.
+I meant only to have my revenge. I did not know----"
+
+"Nay, do not try to excuse yourself," said Dino, who caught the words
+imperfectly, and did not understand that they referred to any crime but
+the one so nearly accomplished against himself. "God knows all. He saw
+what you did: He can make it manifest in His own way. Confess to Him
+now: not to me. I pardon you."
+
+There was a great sob from behind Hugo's quivering fingers; but it was
+only of relief, not repentance. Dino waited a moment or two before he
+said, with the tone of quiet authority which was natural to him:--
+
+"Now fetch me the knife which you dropped amongst the ferns by the hedge
+over there."
+
+With the keen, quick sight that he possessed, he had caught a glimpse of
+it in the scuffle, and seen it drop from Hugo's hand. But the young
+Sicilian took the order as another proof of the sort of superhuman
+knowledge of his deeds and motives which he attributed to Dino Vasari,
+and went submissively to the place where the weapon was lying, picked it
+up, and with hanging head, presented it humbly to the man whose
+spiritual force had for the moment mastered him.
+
+"You must not return to Netherglen," said Dino, looking at him as he
+spoke. "My mother will not see you again: she does not want you near
+her. You understand?"
+
+Hugo assented, with a sort of stifled groan.
+
+"I was forced to tell her, in order to put her on her guard. But if you
+obey me, I will tell no one else. I have not even told Brian. If I find
+that you return to your evil courses, I shall keep the secret of your
+conduct no longer. Then, when Brian comes home, he can reckon with you."
+
+"Brian!" ejaculated Hugo.
+
+"Yes: Brian. What I require from you is that you trouble Netherglen no
+more. I cannot think of you with peace in my mother's house. You will
+leave it to-night--at once."
+
+"Yes," Hugo muttered. He had no desire to return to Netherglen.
+
+"I am going to Dunmuir," said Dino. "You can walk on with me."
+
+Hugo made no opposition. He turned his face vaguely in the specified
+direction, and moved onward; but the sound of Dino's voice, clear and
+cold, gave him a thrill of shame, amounting to positive physical pain.
+
+"Walk before me, if you please. I cannot trust you."
+
+They walked on: Hugo a pace or two in front, Dino behind. Not a word was
+spoken between them until they reached the chief street of Dunmuir, and
+then Dino called to him to pause. They were standing in front of Mr.
+Colquhoun's door.
+
+"You are not going in here?" said Hugo, with a sharp note of terror in
+his voice. "You will not tell Colquhoun?"
+
+"I will tell no one," said Dino, "so long as you fulfil the condition I
+have laid upon you. This is our last word on the subject. God forgive
+you, as I do."
+
+They stood for a moment, face to face. The moon had risen, and its light
+fell peacefully upon the paved street, the old stone houses, the broad,
+beautiful river with its wooded banks, the distant sweep of hills. It
+fell also on the faces of the two men, not unlike in feature and
+colouring, but totally dissimilar in expression, and seemed to intensify
+every point of difference between them. There was a lofty serenity upon
+Dino Vasari's brow, while guilt and fear and misery were deeply
+imprinted on Hugo's boyish, beautiful face. For the first time the
+contrast between them struck forcibly on Hugo's mind. He leaned against
+the stone wall of Mr. Colquhoun's house, and gave vent to his emotion in
+one bitter, remorseful sob of pain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+WHAT PERCIVAL KNEW.
+
+
+Mr. Colquhoun and Mr. Brett were sitting over their wine in the
+well-lighted, well-warmed dining-room of the lawyer's house. They had
+been friends in their earlier days, and were delighted to have an
+opportunity of meeting (in a strictly unprofessional way) and chatting
+over the memories of their youth. It was a surprise to both of them when
+the door was opened to admit Dino Vasari and Hugo Luttrell: two of the
+last visitors whom Mr. Colquhoun expected. His bow to Dino was a little
+stiff: his greeting of Hugo more cordial than usual.
+
+"You come from Mrs. Luttrell?" he asked, in surprise.
+
+Hugo's pallid lips, and look of agitation, convinced him that some
+disaster was impending. But Dino answered with great composure.
+
+"I come to bring you news which I think ought not to be kept from you
+for a moment longer than is necessary," he said.
+
+"Pray take a glass of wine, Mr.--er--Mr.----" The lawyer did not quite
+know how to address his visitor. "Won't you sit down, Hugo?"
+
+"I have not come to stay," said Dino. "I am going to the hotel for the
+night. I wished only to speak to you at once." He put one hand on the
+table by which he was standing and glanced at Mr. Brett. For the first
+time he showed some embarrassment. "I hope it will not inconvenience
+you," he said, "if I tell you that I have withdrawn my claim."
+
+Dead silence fell on the assembly. Mr. Brett pushed back his chair a
+little way and stared. Mr. Colquhoun shook his head and smiled.
+
+"I find," continued Dino, "that Mrs. Luttrell and I have entirely
+different views as to the disposition of the property and the life that
+I ought to lead. I cannot give up my plans--even for her. The easiest
+way to set things straight is to let the estate remain in Miss Murray's
+hands."
+
+"You can't!" said Mr. Colquhoun, abruptly. "Brian Luttrell is alive!"
+
+"Then let it go to Brian Luttrell."
+
+"My dear sir," said Mr. Brett, "you have offered us complete documentary
+evidence that the gentleman now on his way to America is not Brian
+Luttrell at all."
+
+"Yes, but there is only documentary evidence," said Dino. "The deaths of
+Vincenza Vasari and Rosa Naldi in a railway accident deprived us of
+anything else."
+
+"Where are those papers?" asked Mr. Brett, sharply. "I hope they are
+safe."
+
+"Quite safe, Mr. Brett. I have burnt them all." The shock of this
+communication was too much, even for the case-hardened Mr. Brett. He
+turned positively pale.
+
+"Burnt them! Burnt them!" he ejaculated. "Oh, the man is mad. Burnt the
+proofs of his position and birth----"
+
+"I have done all that I wanted to do," said Dino, colouring as the three
+pairs of eyes were fastened upon him with different expressions of
+disbelief, surprise, and even scorn. "My mother knows that I am her son:
+that is all I cared for. That is what I came for, not for the estate."
+
+"But, my dear, young friend," said Mr. Colquhoun, with unusual
+gentleness, "don't you see that if Mrs. Luttrell and Brian and Miss
+Murray are all convinced that you are Mrs. Luttrell's son, you are doing
+them a wrong by destroying the proofs and leaving everybody in an
+unsettled state? You should never have come to Scotland at all if you
+did not mean to carry the matter through."
+
+"That's what I say," cried Mr. Brett, who was working himself up into a
+violent passion. "He has played fast and loose with all us! He has
+tricked and cheated me. Why, he had a splendid case! And to think that
+it can be set aside in this way!"
+
+"Very informal," said Mr. Colquhoun, shaking his head, but with a little
+gleam of laughter in his eye. If Dino Vasari had told the truth, the
+matter had taken a fortunate turn in Mr. Colquhoun's opinion.
+
+"Scandalous! scandalous!" exclaimed Mr. Brett. "Actionable, I call it.
+You had no right to make away with those papers, sir. However, it may be
+possible to repair the loss. They were not all there."
+
+"I will not have it," said Dino, decisively. "Nothing more shall be
+done. I waive my claims entirely. Brian and Miss Murray can settle the
+rest."
+
+And then the party broke up. Mr. Brett seized his client by the arm and
+bore him away to the hotel, arguing and scolding as he went. Before his
+departure, however, Dino found time to say a word in Mr. Colquhoun's
+ear.
+
+"Will you kindly look after Hugo to-night?" he said. "Mrs. Luttrell will
+not wish him to return to Netherglen."
+
+"Oh! There's been a quarrel, has there?" said Mr. Colquhoun eyeing the
+young man curiously.
+
+After a little consideration, Dino thought himself justified in saying
+"Yes."
+
+"I will see after him. You are going with Brett. You'll not have a
+smooth time of it."
+
+"It will be smoother by-and-bye. You will shake hands with me, Mr.
+Colquhoun?"
+
+"That I will," said the old lawyer, heartily. "And wish you God-speed,
+my lad. You've not been very wise, maybe, but you've been generous."
+
+"You will have Brian home, before long, I hope."
+
+"I hope so. I hope so. It's a difficult matter to settle," said Mr.
+Colquhoun, cautiously, "but I think we might see our way out of it if
+Brian were at home. If you want a friend, lad, come to me."
+
+Left alone with Hugo, the solicitor took his place once more at the
+table, and hastily drank off a glass of wine, then glanced at his silent
+guest with a queerly-questioning look.
+
+"What's wrong with ye, lad?" he said. "Cheer up, and drink a glass of
+good port wine. Your aunt has quarrelled with many people before you,
+and she'll like enough come to her senses in course of time."
+
+"Did he say I had quarrelled with my aunt?" asked Hugo, in a dazed sort
+of way.
+
+"Well, he said as much. He said there had been a quarrel. He asked me to
+keep an eye on you. Why, Hugo, my man, what's the matter?"
+
+For Hugo, utterly careless of the old man's presence, suddenly laid his
+aims on the table, and his head on his arms, and burst into passionate
+hysterical tears.
+
+"Tut, tut, tut, man! this will never do," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+rebukingly. "You're not a girl, nor a child, to cry for a sharp word or
+two. What's wrong?"
+
+But he got no answer. Not even when Hugo, spent and exhausted with the
+violence of his emotion, lifted up his face and asked hoarsely for
+brandy. Mr. Colquhoun gave him what he required, without asking further
+questions, and tried to induce him to take some solid food; but Hugo
+absolutely refused to swallow anything but a stiff glass of brandy and
+water, and allowed himself to be conducted to a bed-room, where he flung
+himself face downwards on the bed, and preserved a sullen silence.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun did not press him to speak. "I'll hear it all from
+Margaret Luttrell to-morrow morning," he said to himself. "My mind
+misgives me that there have been strange doings up at Netherglen
+to-night. But I'll know to-morrow."
+
+It was at that very moment that Angela Vivian, going into the
+dressing-room, found a motionless, silent figure, sitting upright in the
+wheeled arm-chair, a figure, not lifeless, indeed, but with life
+apparent only in the agonised glance of the restless eyes, which seemed
+to plead for help. But no help could be given to her now. No more hard
+words could fall from those stricken lips: no more bitter sentences be
+written by those nerveless fingers. She might live for years, if
+dragging on a mute, maimed existence could be, indeed, called living;
+but, as far as power over the destiny of others, of doing good or harm
+to her loved ones, was concerned, Margaret Luttrell was practically
+dead!
+
+Mr. Colquhoun heard the news of Mrs. Luttrell's seizure on the following
+morning, and made good use of it as a reproach to Dino in the
+conversation that he had with him. But Dino, although deeply grieved at
+the turn which things had taken, stood firm. He would have nothing to do
+with the Strathleckie or the Luttrell properties. Whereupon, Mr.
+Colquhoun went straight to Miss Murray, and told her, to the best of his
+ability, the long and intricate story. Be it observed that, although Mr.
+Colquhoun knew that Brian was living, and that he had lately been in
+England, he did not know of Brian's appearance at Strathleckie under the
+name of Stretton, and was, therefore, unable to give Elizabeth any
+information on this point.
+
+Elizabeth was imperative in her decision.
+
+"At any rate," she said, "the property cannot belong to me. It must
+belong either to Mr. Luttrell or to Mr. Vasari. I have no right to it."
+
+"Possession is nine points of the law, my dear," said the lawyer.
+"Nobody can turn you out until Brian comes home again. It may be all a
+mistake."
+
+"You don't think it a mistake, Mr. Colquhoun?"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun smiled, pursed up his lips, and gave his head a little
+shake, as much as to say that he was not going to be tricked into any
+expression of his private opinions.
+
+"The thing will be to get Mr. Brian Luttrell back," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Not such an easy thing as it seems, I am afraid, Miss Murray. The lad,
+Dino Vasari, or whatever his name is, tried hard to keep him, but
+failed. He is an honest lad, I believe, this Dino, but he's an awful
+fool, you know, begging your pardon. If he wanted to keep Brian in
+England, why couldn't he write to me?"
+
+"Perhaps he did not know of your friendship for Brian," said Elizabeth,
+smiling.
+
+"Then he knew very little of Brian's life and Brian's friends, my dear,
+and, according to his own account, he knew a good deal. Of course, he is
+a foreigner, and we must make allowances for him, especially as he was
+brought up in a monastery, where I don't suppose they learn much about
+the forms of ordinary life. What puzzles me is the stupidity of one or
+two other people, who might have let me know in time, if they had had
+their wits about them. I've a crow to pluck with your Mr. Heron on that
+ground," concluded Mr. Colquhoun, never dreaming that he was making
+mischief by his communication.
+
+Elizabeth started forward. "Percival!" she said, contracting her brows
+and looking at Mr. Colquhoun earnestly. "You don't mean that Percival
+knew!"
+
+Mr. Colquhoun perceived that he had gone too far, but could not retract
+his words.
+
+"Well, my dear Miss Murray, he certainly knew something----" and then he
+stopped short and coughed apologetically.
+
+"Oh," said Elizabeth, with a little extra colour in her cheeks, and the
+faintest possible touch of coldness, "no doubt he had his reasons for
+being silent; he will explain them when he comes."
+
+"No doubt," said the lawyer, gravely; but he chuckled a little to
+himself over the account which Mr. Brett had given him that morning of
+Mr. Heron's disappointment. (Mr. Brett had thrown up the case, he told
+his friend Colquhoun; would have nothing more to do with it at any
+price. "I think the case has thrown you up," said Mr. Colquhoun,
+laughing slyly.)
+
+He had taken up some papers which he had brought with him and was
+turning towards the door when a new thought caused him to stop, and
+address Elizabeth once more.
+
+"Miss Murray," he said, "I do not wish to make a remark that would be
+unpleasant to you, but when I remember that Mr. Heron was in possession
+of the facts that I have just imparted to you, nearly a week ago, I do
+think, like yourself, that his conduct calls for an explanation."
+
+"I did not say that I thought so, Mr. Colquhoun," said Elizabeth,
+feeling provoked. But Mr. Colquhoun was gone.
+
+Nevertheless, she agreed with him so far that she sent off a telegram to
+Percival that afternoon. "Come to me at once, if possible. I want you."
+
+When Percival received the message, which he did on his return from his
+club about eleven o'clock at night, he eyed the thin, pink paper on
+which it was written as if it had been a reptile of some poisonous kind.
+"I expected it," he said to himself, and all the gaiety went out of his
+face. "She has found something out."
+
+It was too late to do anything that night. He felt resentfully conscious
+that he should not sleep if he went to bed; so he employed the midnight
+hours in completing some items of work which ought to be done on the
+following day. Before it was light he had packed a hand-bag, and
+departed to catch the early train. He sent a telegram from Peterborough
+to say that he was on the way.
+
+Of course, it was late when he reached Strathleckie, and he assured
+himself with some complacency that Elizabeth would expect no
+conversation with him until next morning. But he was a little mistaken.
+In her quality of mistress, she had chosen to send everyone else to bed:
+the household was so well accustomed to Percival's erratic comings and
+goings, that nobody attached any importance to his visits; and even old
+Mr. Heron appeared only for a few minutes to gossip with his son while
+he ate a comfortable supper, retiring at last, with a nod to his niece
+which Percival easily understood. It meant--"I will do now what you told
+me you wished--leave you together to have your talk out." And Percival
+felt irritated by Elizabeth's determination.
+
+"Will you smoke?" she asked, when the meal was over.
+
+"I don't mind if I do. Will you come into the study--that's the
+smoking-room, is it not?--or is it too late for you?"
+
+"It is not very late," said Elizabeth.
+
+When they were seated in the study, Percival in a great green arm-chair,
+and Elizabeth opposite to him in a much smaller one, he attempted to
+take matters somewhat into his own hands.
+
+"I won't ask to-night what you wanted me for," he said, easily. "I am
+rather battered and sleepy; we shall talk better to-morrow."
+
+"You can set my mind at rest on one point, at any rate," rejoined
+Elizabeth, whose face burned with a feverish-looking flush. "It is, of
+course, a mistake that you knew a week ago of Brian Luttrell being in
+London?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Percival. But the irony in his voice was too plain
+for her to be deceived by it.
+
+"Did you know, Percival?"
+
+"Well, if you must have the plain truth," he said, sitting up and
+examining the end of his cigar with much attention, "I did."
+
+She was silent. He raised his eyes, apparently with some effort, to her
+face; saw there a rather shocked and startled look, and rushed
+immediately into vehement speech.
+
+"What if I did! Do you expect me to rush to you with every disturbing
+report I hear? I did not see this man, Brian Luttrell; I should not know
+him if I did--as Brian Luttrell, at any rate. I merely heard the story
+from a--an acquaintance of mine----"
+
+"Dino Vasari," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Oh, I see you know the facts. There is no need for me to say any more.
+Of course, you attach no weight to any reasons I might have for
+silence."
+
+"Indeed, I do, Percival; or I should do, if I knew what they were."
+
+"Can you not guess them?" he said, looking at her intently. "Can you
+think of no powerful motive that would make me anxious to delay the
+telling of the story?"
+
+"None," she said. "None, except one that would be beneath you."
+
+"Beneath me? Is it possible?" scoffed Percival. "No motive is too base
+for me, allow me to tell you, my dear child. I am the true designing
+villain of romance. Go on: what is the one bad motive which you
+attribute to me?"
+
+"I do not attribute it to you," said Elizabeth, slowly, but with some
+indignation. "I never in my life believed, I never shall believe, that
+you cared in the least whether I was rich or poor."
+
+Percival paused, as if he had met with an unexpected check, and then
+went off into a fit of rather forced laughter.
+
+"So you never thought that," he said. "And that was the only motive that
+occurred to you? Then, perhaps you will kindly tell me the story as it
+was told to you, for you seem to have had a special edition. Has Dino
+Vasari been down here?"
+
+She gave him a short account of the events that had occurred at
+Netherglen, and she noticed that as he listened, he forgot to smoke his
+cigar, and that he leaned his elbow on the arm of the great chair, and
+shaded his eyes with his hand. There was a certain suppressed eagerness
+in his manner, as he turned round when she had finished, and said, with
+lifted eyebrows:--
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"What else do you know?" said Elizabeth.
+
+He rubbed his hand impatiently backwards and forwards on the arm of the
+chair, and did not speak for a moment.
+
+"What does Colquhoun advise you to do?" he asked, presently.
+
+"To wait here until Brian Luttrell is found and brought home."
+
+"Brought home. They think he will come?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Why not? When everybody knows that he is alive there will be
+no possible reason why he should stay away. In fact, if he is a
+right-thinking man, he will see that justice requires him to come home
+at once."
+
+"I should not think, myself, that he was a right-thinking man," said
+Percival, without looking at her.
+
+"Because he allowed himself to be thought dead?" said Elizabeth,
+watching him as he relighted his cigar. "But, then, he was in such
+terrible trouble--and the opportunity offered itself, and seemed so
+easy. Poor fellow! I was always very sorry for him."
+
+"Were you?"
+
+"Yes. His mother, at least, Mrs. Luttrell, for I suppose she is not his
+mother really, must have been very cruel. From all that I have heard he
+was the last man to be jealous of his brother, or to wish any harm to
+him."
+
+"In short, you are quite prepared to look upon him as a _heros de
+roman_, and worship him as such when he appears. Possibly you may think
+there is some reason in Dino Vasari's naive suggestion that you should
+marry Mr. Luttrell and prevent any division of the property."
+
+"A suggestion which, from you, Percival, is far more insulting than that
+of the motive which I did not attribute to you," said Elizabeth, with
+spirit.
+
+"You wouldn't marry Brian Luttrell, then?"
+
+"Percival!"
+
+"Not under any consideration? Well, tell me so. I like to hear you say
+it."
+
+Elizabeth was silent.
+
+"Tell me so," he said, stretching out his hand to her, and looking at
+her attentively, "and I will tell you the reason of my week's silence."
+
+"I have no need to tell you so," she answered, in a suppressed voice.
+"And if I did you would not trust me."
+
+"No," he said, drily, "perhaps not; but promise me, all the same, that
+under no circumstances will you ever marry Brian Luttrell."
+
+"I promise," she said, in a low tone of humiliation. Her eyes were full
+of tears. "And now let me go, Percival. I cannot stay with you--when you
+say that you trust me so little."
+
+He had taken advantage of her rising to seize her hand. He now tossed
+his cigar into the fire, and rose, too, still holding her hand in his.
+He looked down at her quivering lips, her tear-filled eyes, with
+gathering intensity of emotion. Then he put both arms round her, pressed
+her to his breast with passionate vehemence, and kissed her again and
+again, on cheek, lip, neck, and brow. She shivered a little, but did not
+protest.
+
+"There!" he said, suddenly putting her away from him, and standing erect
+with the black frowning line very strongly marked upon his forehead. "I
+will tell you now why I did not try to keep Brian Luttrell in England. I
+knew that I ought to make a row about it. I knew that I was bound in
+honour to write to Colquhoun, to you, to Mrs. Luttrell, to any of the
+people concerned. And I didn't do it. I didn't precisely mean not to do
+it, but I wanted to shift the responsibility. I thought it was other
+people's business to keep him in England: not mine. As a matter of fact,
+I suppose it was mine. What do you say?"
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, lifting her lovely, grieved eyes to his stormy
+face. "I think it was partly yours."
+
+"Well, I didn't do it, you see," said Percival. "I was a brute and a
+cad, I suppose. But it seemed fatally easy to hold one's tongue. And now
+he has gone to America."
+
+"But he can be brought back again, Percival."
+
+"If he will come. I fancy that it will take a strong rope to drag him
+back. You want to know the reason for my silence? It isn't far to seek.
+Brian Luttrell and the tutor, Stretton, who fell in love with you, were
+one and the same person. That's all."
+
+And then he walked straight out of the room, and left her to her own
+reflections.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+PERCIVAL'S ATONEMENT.
+
+
+Percival felt a decided dread of his next meeting with Elizabeth. He
+could not guess what would be the effect of his information upon her
+mind, nor what would be her opinion of his conduct. He was in a state of
+exasperating uncertainty about her views. The only thing of which he was
+sure was her love and respect for truthfulness; he did not know whether
+she would ever forgive any lapse from it. "Though, if it comes to that,"
+he said to himself, as he finished his morning toilet, "she ought to be
+as angry with Stretton as she is with me; for he took her in completely,
+and, as for me, I only held my tongue. I suppose she will say that 'the
+motive was everything.' Which confirms me in my belief that one man may
+steal a horse, while the other may not look over the wall." And then he
+went down to breakfast.
+
+He was late, of course; when was he not late for breakfast? The whole
+family-party had assembled; even Mrs. Heron was downstairs to welcome
+her step-son. Percival responded curtly enough to their greetings; his
+eyes and ears and thoughts were too much taken up with Elizabeth to be
+bestowed on the rest of the family. And Elizabeth, after all, looked
+much as usual. Perhaps there was a little unwonted colour in her cheek,
+and life in her eye; she did not look as if she had not slept, or had
+had bad dreams; there was rather an unusually restful and calm
+expression upon her face.
+
+"Confound the fellow!"--thus Percival mentally apostrophised the missing
+Brian Luttrell. "One would think that she was glad of what I told her."
+He was thoroughly put out by this reflection, and munched his breakfast
+in sulky silence, listening cynically to his step-mother's idle
+utterances and Kitty's vivacious replies. He was conscious of some
+disinclination to meet Elizabeth's tranquil glance, of which he bitterly
+resented the tranquillity. And she scarcely spoke, except to the
+children.
+
+"I wonder how poor Mrs. Luttrell is to-day," Isabel Heron was saying.
+"It is sad that she should be so ill."
+
+"Yes, I wondered yesterday what was the matter, when I met Hugo," said
+Kitty. "He looked quite pale and serious. He was staying at Dunmuir, he
+told me. I suppose he does not find the house comfortable while his aunt
+is ill."
+
+"Rather a cold-blooded young fellow, if he can consider that," said Mr.
+Heron. "Mrs. Luttrell has always been very kind to him, I believe."
+
+"Perhaps he is tired of Netherglen," said Kitty. ("Nobody knows anything
+about the story of the two Brian Luttrells, then!" Percival reflected,
+with surprise. "Elizabeth has a talent for silence when she chooses.")
+Kitty went on carelessly, "Netherglen is damp in this weather. I don't
+think I should care to live there." Then she blushed a little, as though
+some new thought had occurred to her.
+
+"The weather is growing quite autumnal," said Mrs. Heron, languidly. "We
+ought to return to town, and make our preparations----" She looked with
+a sly smile from Percival to Elizabeth, and paused. "When is it to be,
+Lizzie?"
+
+Elizabeth drew up her head haughtily and said nothing. Percival glanced
+at her, and drew no good augury from the cold offence visible in her
+face. There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Heron thought it better
+to dispel by rising from the table.
+
+Percival smoked his morning cigar on the terrace with his father, and
+wondered whether Elizabeth was not going to present herself and talk to
+him. He was ready to be very penitent and make every possible sign of
+submission to her wishes, for he felt that he had wronged her in his
+mind, and that she might justly be offended with him if she guessed his
+thoughts. He paced up and down, looking in impatiently at the windows
+from time to time, but still she came not. At last, standing
+disconsolately in the porch, he saw her passing through the hall with
+little Jack in her arms, and the other boys hanging on to her dress,
+quite in the old Gower-street fashion.
+
+"Elizabeth, won't you come out?" he said.
+
+"I can't, just now. I am going to give the children some lessons. I do
+that, first thing."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Ever since Mr. Stretton left," she said.
+
+"Give them a holiday. I want you. There are lots of things we have to
+talk about."
+
+"Are there? I thought there was nothing left to say," said she, sweetly
+but coldly. "But I am going to Dunmuir at half-past two this afternoon,
+and you can drive down with me if you like."
+
+She passed on, and shut herself into the study with the children.
+Percival felt injured. "She should not have brought me all the way from
+London if she had nothing to say," he grumbled. "I'll go back to-night.
+And I might as well go and see Colquhoun this morning."
+
+He went down to Mr. Colquhoun's office, and was not received very
+cordially by that gentleman. The interview resulted in rather a violent
+quarrel, which ended by Percival being requested to leave Mr.
+Colquhoun's presence, and not return to it uninvited. Mr. Colquhoun
+could not easily forgive him for neglecting to inform the Luttrells, at
+the earliest opportunity, of Brian's reappearance. "We should have saved
+time, money, anxiety: we might have settled the matter without troubling
+Miss Murray, or agitating Mrs. Luttrell; and I call it downright
+dishonesty to have concealed a fact which was of such vital importance,"
+said Mr. Colquhoun, who had lost his temper. And Percival flung himself
+out of the room in a rage.
+
+He was still inwardly fuming when he seated himself beside Elizabeth
+that afternoon in a little low carriage drawn by two grey ponies--an
+equipage which she specially affected--in order to drive to Dunmuir. For
+full five minutes neither of them spoke, but at last Elizabeth said,
+with a faint accent of surprise:--
+
+"I thought you had something to say to me."
+
+"I have so many things that I don't know where to begin. Have you
+nothing to say--about what I told you last night?"
+
+"I can only say that I am very glad of it."
+
+"The deuce you are!" thought Percival, but his lips were sealed.
+Elizabeth went on to explain herself.
+
+"I am glad, because now I understand various things that were very hard
+for me to understand before. I can see why Mr. Stretton hesitated about
+coming here; I see why he was startled when he discovered that I was the
+very girl whom he must have heard of before he left England. Of course,
+I should never have objected to surrender the property to its rightful
+owner; but in this case I shall be not only willing but pleased to give
+it back."
+
+Her tone was proud and independent. Percival did not like it, but would
+not say so.
+
+"I was saying last night," she continued, "that Brian Luttrell must come
+back. This discovery makes his return all the more necessary. I am going
+now to ask Mr. Colquhoun what steps had better be taken for bringing him
+home."
+
+"Do you think he will come?"
+
+"He must come. He must be made to see that it is right for him to come.
+I have been thinking of what I will ask Mr. Colquhoun to say to him. If
+he remembers me"--and her voice sank a little--"he will not refuse to do
+what would so greatly lighten my burden."
+
+"Better write yourself, Elizabeth," said Percival, in a sad yet cynical
+tone. "You can doubtless say what would bring him back by the next
+steamer."
+
+She made no answer, but set her lips a little more firmly, and gave one
+of the grey ponies a slight touch with the whip. It was the silence that
+caused Percival to see that she was wounded.
+
+"I have a knack of saying what I don't mean," he remarked, rousing
+himself. "I beg your pardon for this and every other rude speech that I
+may make, Elizabeth; and ask you to understand that I am only
+translating my discontent with myself into words when I am ill-tempered.
+Have a little mercy on me, for pity's sake."
+
+She smiled. He thought there was some mockery in the smile.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he said, abruptly, dropping the apologetic
+tone.
+
+"I am not laughing. I was wondering that you thought it worth while to
+excuse yourself for such a trifle as a rude word or two. I thought
+possibly, when I came out with you, that you had other apologies to
+make."
+
+"May I ask what you mean?"
+
+"I mean that, by your own showing, you have not been quite
+straightforward," said Elizabeth, plainly. "And I thought that you might
+have something to say about it."
+
+"Not straightforward!" he repeated. It was not often that his cheeks
+tingled as they tingled now. "What have I done to make you call me not
+straightforward, pray?"
+
+"You knew that I inherited this property because of Brian Luttrell's
+death. You knew--did you not?--that he had only a few days to spend in
+London, and that he meant to start for America this week. You must have
+known that some fresh arrangement was necessary before I could honestly
+enjoy any of his money--that, in fact, he ought to have it all. And,
+unless he himself confided in you under a promise of secrecy, or
+anything of that sort, I think you ought to have written to Mr.
+Colquhoun at once."
+
+"He did not confide in me: I did not see him. It was Dino Vasari who
+sought me out and told me," said Percival, with some anger.
+
+"And did Dino Vasari intend you to keep the matter a secret?"
+
+"No. The real fact was, Elizabeth, that I did not altogether believe
+Vasari's story. I did not in the least believe that Brian Luttrell was
+living. I thought it was a hoax. Upon my word, I am half-inclined to
+believe so still. I thought it was not worth while to take the trouble."
+
+"You did not know where to find him, I suppose?"
+
+"Well--yes; I had the address."
+
+"And you did nothing?" she said, flashing upon him a look of indignant
+surprise.
+
+"I did nothing," returned Percival.
+
+"That is what I complain of," she remarked, shortly.
+
+For some time she drove on in silence, lightly flicking her ponies'
+heads from time to time with her whip, her face set steadily towards the
+road before her, her strong, well-gloved hands showing determination in
+the very way she held the whip and reins. Percival grew savage, and then
+defiant.
+
+"You ask too much," he said, pulling his long moustache, and uttering a
+bitter laugh. "It would have been easy and natural enough to move Heaven
+and earth for the sake of Brian Luttrell's rights, if Brian Luttrell had
+not constituted himself my rival in another domain. But when his
+'rights' meant depriving you of your property, and placing Mr. Stretton
+in authority--I decline."
+
+"I call that mean and base," said Elizabeth, giving the words a low but
+clear-toned emphasis, which made Percival wince.
+
+"Thank you," he said. And there was another long silence, which lasted
+until they drew up at Mr. Colquhoun's door.
+
+Percival waited for nearly an hour before she came back, and had time to
+go through every possible phase of anger and mortification. He felt that
+he had more reason on his side than Elizabeth could understand: the
+doubt of Dino's good faith, which seemed so small to her, had certainly
+influenced him very strongly. No doubt it would have been
+better--wiser--if he had tried to find out the truth of Dino's story;
+but the sting of Elizabeth's judgment lay in the fact that he had
+fervently hoped that Dino's story was not true, and that he had refused
+to meet Dino's offer half-way, the offer that would have secured
+Elizabeth's own happiness. Would she ever hear a full account of that
+interview? And what would she think of his selfishness if she came to
+know it? Ever since that conversation in Mr. Brett's office Percival had
+been conscious of bitter possibilities of evil in his own soul. He had
+had a bad time of it during the past week, and, when he contrasted his
+own conduct with the generous candour and uprightness that Elizabeth
+seemed to expect from him, he was open to confess to himself that he
+fell very short of her standard.
+
+She came back to her place attended by Mr. Colquhoun, who wrapped her
+rugs about her in a fatherly way, and took not the slightest notice of
+Mr. Percival Heron. She had some small purchases to make in the town,
+and it was growing almost dusk before they turned homewards. Then she
+began to speak in her ordinary tone.
+
+"Mr. Colquhoun has been telling me what to do," she said, "and I think
+that he is right. Dino Vasari has already gone back to Italy, but before
+he went, he signed a paper relinquishing all claim to the property in
+favour of Brian Luttrell and myself. Mr. Colquhoun says it was a useless
+thing to do, except as it shows his generosity and kindness of heart,
+and that it would not be valid in a court at all; but that nothing
+farther can be done, as he does not press his claim, until Brian
+Luttrell comes back to England or writes instructions. There might be a
+friendly suit when he came; but that would be left for him (and, I
+suppose, myself) to decide. When he comes we shall try to get Dino
+Vasari back, and have a friendly consultation over the matter. I don't
+see why we need have lawyers to interfere at all. I should resign the
+property with a very good grace, but Mr. Colquhoun thinks that Mr.
+Luttrell will have scruples."
+
+"He ought to have," muttered Percival, but Elizabeth took no notice.
+
+"It seems that he went in a sailing vessel," she went on, in a perfectly
+calm and collected voice, "because he could get a very cheap passage in
+that way. Mr. Colquhoun proposes that we should write to Pernambuco; but
+he might not be expecting any letters--he might miss them--and go up the
+country; there is no knowing. I think that a responsible, intelligent
+person ought to be sent out by a fast steamer and wait for him at
+Pernambuco. Then everything would be satisfactorily explained and
+enforced--better than by letter. Mr. Colquhoun says he feels inclined to
+go himself."
+
+She gave a soft, pleased laugh as she said the words; but there was
+excitement and trouble underneath its apparent lightness. "That, of
+course, would never do; but he has a clerk whom he can thoroughly trust,
+and he will start next week for the Brazils."
+
+Percival sat mute. Had she no idea that he was suffering? She went on
+quickly.
+
+"Mr. Salt--that is the clerk's name--will reach Pernambuco many days
+before the sailing vessel; but it is better that he should be too early
+than too late. They may even pass the _Falcon_--that is the name of Mr.
+Luttrell's ship--on the way. The worst is"--and here her voice began to
+tremble--"that Mr. Colquhoun has heard a report that the _Falcon_ was
+not--not--quite--sea-worthy."
+
+She put up one gloved hand and dashed a tear from her eyes. Percival's
+silence exasperated her. For almost the first time she turned upon him
+with a reproach.
+
+"Will you remember," she said, bitterly, "if his ship goes to the
+bottom, that you might have stopped him, and--did not think it worth
+while to take the trouble?"
+
+"Good God, Elizabeth, how unjust you are!" cried Percival, impetuously.
+
+Elizabeth did not answer. She had to put up her hand again and again to
+wipe away her tears. The strain of self-control had been a severe one,
+and when it once slipped away from her the emotion had to have its own
+way. Percival tried to take the reins from her, but this she would not
+allow; and they were going uphill on a quiet sheltered road of which the
+ponies knew every step as well as he did himself.
+
+When she was calmer, he broke the silence by saying in an oddly-muffled,
+hoarse voice:--
+
+"It is no use going on like this. I suppose you wish our engagement to
+be broken off?"
+
+"I?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Yes, you. Can't I see that you care more for this man Stretton or
+Luttrell than you care for me? I don't want my wife to be always sighing
+after another man."
+
+"That you would not have," she said, coldly.
+
+"I don't care. I know now what you feel. And if Stretton comes back, I
+suppose I must go to the wall."
+
+"I will keep my word to you if you like," said Elizabeth, after a
+moment's pause. She could not speak more graciously. "I did not think of
+breaking off the engagement: I thought that matter was decided."
+
+"You called me mean and base just now, and you expect me to put up with
+it. You think me a low, selfish brute. I may be all that, and not want
+you to tell me so." Some of Percival's sense of humour--a little more
+grim than usual--was perceptible in the last few words.
+
+"I am sorry if I told you so. I will not tell you so again."
+
+"But you will feel it."
+
+"If you are low and base and mean, of course, I shall feel it," said
+Elizabeth, incisively. "It rests with you to show me that you are not
+what you say."
+
+Percival found no word to answer. They were near Strathleckie by this
+time, and turned in at the gates without the exchange of another
+sentence.
+
+Elizabeth expected him to insist upon going back to London that night,
+or, at least, early next morning, but he did not propose to do so. He
+hung about the place next day, smoking, and speaking little, with a
+certain yellowness of tint in his complexion, which denoted physical as
+well as mental disturbance. In the afternoon he went to Dunmuir, and was
+away for some hours; and more than one telegram arrived for him in the
+course of the day, exciting Mrs. Heron's fears lest something should
+have "gone wrong" with his business affairs in London. But he assured
+her, on his return, with his usual impatient frown, that everything was
+going exactly as he would like it to do. It was with one of the
+telegraphic despatches crushed up in his hand, that he came to Elizabeth
+as she sat in the drawing-room after dinner, and said, with a little
+paleness visible about his lips:--
+
+"Can I speak to you for a few moments alone?"
+
+She looked up, startled; then rose and led the way to an inner
+drawing-room, where they would be undisturbed. She seated herself in the
+chair, which, with unwonted ceremoniousness, he wheeled forward for her;
+but he himself stood on the hearth-rug, twisting and untwisting the
+paper in his hand, as if--extraordinary occurrence!--as if he were
+actually nervous.
+
+"I have a proposition to make to you," he said. He uttered his words
+very rapidly, but made long pauses between some of the sentences. "You
+say that Mr. Colquhoun is going to send out his clerk, Salt, to stop
+Brian Luttrell when he lands at Pernambuco. I have just seen Mr.
+Colquhoun, and he agrees with me that this proceeding is of very
+doubtful utility.... Now, don't interrupt me, I beg. If I throw cold
+water on this plan, it is only that I may suggest another which I think
+better.... Salt is a mere clerk: we cannot tell him all the
+circumstances, and the arguments that he will use will probably be such
+as a man like Luttrell will despise. I mean that he will put it on the
+ground of Luttrell's own interests--not Dino Vasari's, or--or yours....
+What I propose is that someone should go who knows the story intimately,
+who knows the relations of all the parties.... If you like to trust me,
+I will do my best to bring Brian Luttrell home again."
+
+"You!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Oh, Percival, no."
+
+"And why not? I assure you I will act carefully, and I am sure I shall
+succeed. I have even persuaded Mr. Colquhoun of my good intentions--with
+some difficulty, I confess. Here is a note from him to you. He read it
+to me after writing it, and I know what he advises you to do."
+
+Elizabeth read the note. It consisted only of these words: "If you can
+make up your mind to let Mr. Percival Heron go in Salt's place, I think
+it would be the better plan.--J. C."
+
+"I'll be on my good behaviour, I promise you," said Percival, watching
+her, with lightness of tone which was rather belied by the mournful
+expression of his eyes. "I'll play no tricks, either with him or myself;
+and bring him safely back to Scotland--on my honour, I will. Do you
+distrust me so much, Elizabeth?"
+
+"Oh, no, no. Would it not be painful to you? I thought--you did not like
+Mr. Luttrell." She spoke with great hesitation.
+
+Percival made a grimace. "I don't say that I do like him. I mean to say
+that I want to show you--and myself--that I do--a little bit--regret my
+silence, and will try my best to remedy the mischief caused by it. A
+frank confession which ought to please you."
+
+"It does please me. I am sure of it. But you must not go--you must not
+leave your work----"
+
+"Oh, my work can be easily done by somebody else. That is what this
+telegram is about, by-the-bye. I must send an answer, and it depends
+upon your decision."
+
+"Can I not consult any one? My uncle? Mr. Colquhoun?"
+
+"You know Mr. Colquhoun's opinion. My father will think exactly as you
+and I do. No, it depends entirely upon whether you think I shall do your
+errand well, Elizabeth, and whether you will give me the chance of
+showing that I am not so ungenerous and so base as you say you think me.
+Tell me to fetch Brian Luttrell home again, and I will go."
+
+And, with tears in her eyes, Elizabeth said, "Go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DINO'S HOME-COMING.
+
+
+"It is to be understood," said Percival, two or three days later, with
+an affectation of great precision, "that I surrender none of my rights
+by going on this wild-goose chase. I shall come back in a few months'
+time to claim my bride."
+
+Elizabeth smiled rather sadly. "Very well," she said.
+
+"In fact," Percival went on expansively, "I shall expect the wedding to
+be arranged for the day after my arrival, whenever that takes place. So
+get your white gown and lace veil ready, and we will have Brian Luttrell
+as best man, and Dino Vasari to give you away."
+
+It was rather cruel jesting, thought Elizabeth; but then Percival was in
+the habit, when he was in a good humour, of turning his deepest feelings
+into jest. The submission with which she listened to him, roused him
+after a time to a perception that his words were somewhat painful to
+her; and he relapsed into a silence which he broke by saying in an
+entirely different sort of voice:--
+
+"Have you no message for Brian Luttrell, Elizabeth?"
+
+"You know all that I want to say."
+
+"But is there nothing else? No special message of remembrance and
+friendship?"
+
+"Tell him," said Elizabeth, flushing and then paling again, "that I
+shall not be happy until he comes back and takes what is his own."
+
+"Well, I can't say anything much stronger," said Percival, drily. "I
+will remember."
+
+They talked no more about themselves, until the day on which he was to
+start, and then, when he was about to take his leave of her, he said, in
+a very low voice:--
+
+"Do you mean to be true to me or not when Luttrell comes home,
+Elizabeth?"
+
+"I shall keep my word to you, Percival. Oh, don't--don't--say that to me
+again!" she cried, bursting into tears, as she saw the lurking doubt
+that so constantly haunted his mind.
+
+"I won't," he said. "I will never say it again if you tell me that you
+trust me as I trust you."
+
+"I do trust you."
+
+"And I am not so base and mean as you said I was?"
+
+For, perhaps, the first time in her life, she kissed him of her own
+accord. It was with this kiss burning upon his lips that Percival leaned
+out of the window of the railway-carriage as the train steamed away into
+the darkness, and waved a last farewell to the woman he loved.
+
+He had been rather imperious and masterful during the last few days; he
+felt conscious of it now, and was half-sorry for it. It had seemed to
+him that, if he did this thing for Brian Luttrell, he had at least the
+right to some reward. And he claimed his reward beforehand, in the shape
+of close companionship and gentle words from Elizabeth. He did not
+compel her to kiss him--he remembered his magnanimity in that respect
+with some complacency--but he had demanded many other signs of
+good-fellowship. And she had seemed ready enough to render them. She had
+wanted to go with him and Mr. Heron to London, and help him to prepare
+for the voyage. But he would not allow her to leave Strathleckie. He had
+only a couple of days to spare, and he should be hurried and busy. He
+preferred saying good-bye to her at Dunmuir.
+
+The reason of his going was kept a profound secret from all the Herons
+except the father, who gave his consent to the plan cordially, though
+with some surprise.
+
+"But what will become of your profession?" he had asked of Percival.
+"Won't three or four months' absence put you sadly out of the running?"
+
+"You forget my prospects," Percival replied, with his ready, cynical
+laugh. "When I've squared the matter with Brian Luttrell, and married
+Elizabeth, I shall have no need to think of my profession." Mr. Heron
+shifted his eye-glasses on his nose uneasily, and screwed up his face
+into an expression of mild disapproval, but couldn't think of any
+suitable reply. "Besides," said Percival, "I've got a commission to do
+some papers on Brazilian life. The _Evening Mail_ will take them. And I
+am going to write a book on 'Modern Morality' as I go out. I fully
+expect to make my literary work pay my travelling expenses, sir."
+
+"I thought Elizabeth paid those," said Mr. Heron, in a hesitating sort
+of way.
+
+"Well, she thinks she will do so," said Percival, "and that's all she
+need know about the matter."
+
+Mr. Colquhoun, to whom Elizabeth had gone for advice on the day after
+Percival's proposition, was very cautious in what he said to her. "It's
+the best plan in the world," he remarked, "in one way."
+
+"In what way?" asked Elizabeth, anxiously.
+
+"Well, Mr. Heron goes as your affianced husband, does he not? Of course,
+he can represent your interests better than anybody else."
+
+"I thought he was going to prevent my interests from being too well
+represented," said Elizabeth, half-smiling. "I want him to make Mr.
+Luttrell understand that I have no desire to keep the property at all."
+
+"There is one drawback," said Mr. Colquhoun, "and one that I don't see
+how Mr. Heron will get over. He has never seen Brian, has he? How will
+he recognise him? For the lad's probably gone under another name. It's
+just a wild-goose chase that he's starting upon, I'm afraid."
+
+"They have seen each other."
+
+"Mr. Heron didn't tell me that. And where was it they saw each other,
+Miss Murray?"
+
+"In Italy--and here. Here at Strathleckie. Oh, Mr. Colquhoun, it was
+Brian Luttrell who came with us as the boys' tutor, and we did not know.
+He called himself Stretton." And then Elizabeth shed a small tear or
+two, although she did not exactly know why.
+
+Mr. Colquhoun's wrath and astonishment were not to be described. That
+Brian should have been so near him, and that they should have never met!
+"I should have known him anywhere!" cried the old man. "Grey hair! do
+you tell me? What difference does that make to a man that knew him all
+his life, and his father before him? And a beard, you say? Toots! beard
+or no beard, I should have known Brian Luttrell anywhere."
+
+Angela Vivian, being taken into their confidence, supplied them with
+several photographs of Brian in his earlier days. And Percival was
+admitted to Netherglen to look at a portrait of the brothers (or reputed
+brothers), painted not long before Richard's death. He looked at it long
+and carefully, but acknowledged afterwards that he could not see any
+likeness between his memories of Mr. Stretton and the pictured face,
+with its fine contour, brown moustache, and smiling eyes, a face in
+which an expression of slight melancholy seemed to be the index to
+intense susceptibility of temperament and great refinement of mind. "The
+eyes are like Stretton's," he said, "and that is all." He took two of
+the photographs with him, however, as part of his equipment.
+
+Mrs. Luttrell continued in the state in which she had been found after
+her interview with Dino. She could not speak: she could not move: her
+eyes had an awful consciousness in them which told that she was living
+and knew what was going on around her: otherwise she might easily have
+been mistaken for one already dead. It was difficult to imagine that she
+understood the words spoken in her presence, and for some time her
+attendants did not realise this fact, and spoke with less caution than
+they might have done respecting the affairs of the neighbourhood. But
+when the doctor had declared that her mind was unimpaired, Mr. Colquhoun
+thought it better to come and give her some account of the things that
+had been done during her illness, on the mere chance that she might hear
+and understand. He told her that Dino had gone to Italy, that Brian had
+sailed for South America, and that Percival Heron had gone to fetch him
+back, in order to make some arrangement about the property which
+Elizabeth Murray wished to give up to him. He thought that there was a
+look of relief in her eyes when he had finished; but he could not be
+sure.
+
+Hugo, after staying for some days at the hotel in Dunmuir, ventured
+rather timidly back to Netherglen. Now that Dino was out of the way, he
+did not see why he should not make use of his opportunities. He entered
+the door of his old home, it was true, with a sort of superstitious
+terror upon him: Dino had obtained a remarkable power over his mind, and
+if he had been either in England or Scotland, Hugo would never have
+dared to present himself at Netherglen. But his acquaintances and
+friends--even Angela--thought his absence so strange, that he was
+encouraged to pay a call at his aunt's house, and when there, he was
+led, almost against his will, straight into her presence. He had heard
+that she could not speak or move; but he was hardly prepared for the
+spectacle of complete helplessness that met his gaze. There might be
+dread and loathing in the eyes that looked at him out of that impassive
+face; but there was no possibility of the utterance by word of mouth. An
+eternal silence seemed to have fallen upon Margaret Luttrell: her
+bitterest enemy might come and go before her, and against none of his
+devices could she protect herself.
+
+While looking at her, a thought flashed across Hugo's mind, and matured
+itself later in the day into a complete plan of action. He remembered
+the will that Mrs. Luttrell had made in his favour. Had that will ever
+been signed? By the curious brusqueness with which Mr. Colquhoun had
+lately treated him, he fancied that it had. If it was signed, he was the
+heir; he would be the master ultimately of Netherglen. Why should he go
+away? Dino Vasari had ordered him never to come again into Mrs.
+Luttrell's presence; but Dino Vasari was now shut up in some Italian
+monastery, and was not likely to hear very much about the affairs of a
+remote country-house in Scotland. At any rate, when Mrs. Luttrell was
+dead, even Dino could not object to Hugo's taking possession of his own
+house. When Mrs. Luttrell was dead! And when would she die?
+
+The doctor, whom Hugo consulted with great professions of affection for
+his aunt, gave little hope of long life for her. He wondered, he said,
+that she had survived the stroke that deprived her of speech and the use
+of her limbs: a few weeks or months, in his opinion, would see the end.
+
+Hugo considered the situation very seriously. It would be better for him
+to stay at Netherglen, where he could ascertain his aunt's condition
+from time to time, and be sure that there were no signs of returning
+speech and muscular power. Dared he risk disobedience to Dino's command?
+On deliberation, he thought he dare. Dino could prove nothing against
+him: it would be assertion against assertion, that was all. And most
+people would look on the accusations that Dino would bring as positive
+slander. Hugo felt that his greatest danger lay in his own
+cowardice--his absence of self-control and superstitious fear of Dino's
+eye. But if the young monk were out of England there was no present
+reason to be afraid. And when such a piece of luck had occurred as Mrs.
+Luttrell's paralytic stroke seemed likely to prove to Hugo, it would be
+folly to take no advantage of it. Hugo had had one or two wonderful
+strokes of luck in his life; but he told himself that this was the
+greatest of all. He was rather inclined to attribute it to his
+possession of a medal which had been blessed by the Pope (for, as far as
+he had any religion at all, Hugo was still a Romanist), which his mother
+had hung round his neck whilst he was a chubby-faced boy in Sicily. He
+wore it still, and was not at all above considering it as a charm for
+ensuring him a larger slice of good fortune than would otherwise have
+fallen to his share. And, therefore, in a few days after Mrs. Luttrell's
+seizure, Hugo was once again at Netherglen, ruling even more openly and
+imperiously than he had done in the days of his aunt's health and
+strength. His presence there, and Mrs. Luttrell's helplessness, caused
+some of Angela Vivian's friends to object seriously to her continued
+residence at Netherglen. She was still a young woman of considerable
+beauty; and Hugo was two-and-twenty. Of what use could she be to Mrs.
+Luttrell? She ought, at any rate, to have an older friend to chaperone
+her, to be with her in her walks and drives, and be present at the meals
+which she and Hugo now shared alone. Angela took little notice of the
+remonstrance of aunts and cousins, but when she heard that her brother
+Rupert was coming to stay at the Herons, and proposed to spend a day or
+two at Netherglen on his way thither, she felt a qualm of fear. Rupert
+was very careful of his sister: she felt sure that she would never be
+permitted to do what he thought in the least degree unbecoming.
+
+Meanwhile, the man who had resolved to be known as Dino Vasari for his
+lifetime--or at least until he laid down his name, together with his
+will, his affections, and all his other possessions at the door of the
+religious house which he desired to enter, was hastening towards his old
+home, his birthplace, (whether he was Dino Vasari or Brian Luttrell)
+under sunny Italian skies. He did not quite dare to think how he should
+be received. He had thwarted the plans of the far-seeing monks: he had
+made their anxious efforts for his welfare of no avail. He had thrown
+away the chance of an inheritance which might have been used for the
+benefit of his Church: would the rulers of that Church easily forgive
+him?
+
+He reached San Stefano at night, and took up his quarters at the inn,
+whence he wrote a letter to the Prior, asking to be allowed to see him,
+and hinting at his wish to enter the monastery for life. Perhaps the
+humility of the tone of his epistle made Father Cristoforo suspect that
+something was wrong. To begin with, Dino was not supposed to act without
+the advice of those who had hitherto been his guardians, and he had
+committed an act of grave insubordination in leaving England without
+their permission. The priest to whom he had reported himself on his
+arrival in London, had already complained to Father Cristoforo of the
+young man's self-reliant spirit, and a further letter had given some
+account of "very unsatisfactory proceedings" on Dino's part--of a
+refusal to tell where he had been or what he had been doing, and,
+finally, of his sudden and unauthorised departure from British shores.
+This letter had not tended to put Father Cristoforo into charity with
+his late pupil--child of the house, as, in a certain sense, he had been
+for many years, and special pet and favourite with the Prior--he was
+rather inclined to order Dino back to England without loss of time.
+Padre Cristoforo set a high value upon that inheritance in Scotland. He
+wished to secure it for Dino--still more for the Church.
+
+He sent back a curt verbal answer. Dino might come to the cloisters on
+the following morning after early mass. The Prior would meet him there
+as he came from the monastery chapel.
+
+Dino was waiting at the appointed hour. In spite of the displeasure
+implied in Padre Cristoforo's message, his heart was swelling with
+delight at the sight of the well-known Italian hills, at the sunshine
+and the sweet scents that came to him with the crystal clearness of the
+Italian atmosphere. He loved the white walls of the monastery, the
+vine-clad slopes and olive groves around it, the glimpses of purple sea
+which one caught from time to time in the openings left in the
+chestnut-woods, where he had wandered so often when he was a boy. These
+things were dear to Dino: he had loved them all his life, and it was a
+veritable home-coming to him when he presented himself at San Stefano.
+
+And yet the home-coming would not be without its peculiar trials. Never
+once had Father Cristoforo been seriously angry with him, and the habit
+of obedience, of almost filial reverence, reviving in Dino's heart as he
+approached the monastery precincts, made him think with some awe of the
+severity which the Prior's face had sometimes shown to impenitent
+culprits. Was he impenitent? He did not know. Was he afraid? No, Dino
+assured himself, looking up to the purple mountains and the cloudless
+sky, with a grave smile of recognition and profound content, he was
+afraid of nothing now.
+
+He waited until the service was over. The peal of the organ, the sound
+of the monks' chant, reached him where he stood, but he did not enter
+the little chapel. A sense of unworthiness came over him. As the short,
+sharp stroke of the bell smote upon his ear, he fell upon his knees, and
+rested his forehead against the wall. Old words of prayer rose
+familiarly to his lips. He remembered his sins of omission and
+commission--venial faults they would seem, to many of us, but black and
+heinous in pure-hearted Dino's eyes--and pleaded passionately for their
+forgiveness. And then the words turned into a prayer for the welfare of
+his friend Brian and the woman that Brian loved. Dino was one of those
+rare souls who love their neighbour better than themselves.
+
+The Prior quitted the chapel at last, and approached his former pupil.
+He did not come alone, but the brothers who followed him kept at some
+little distance. Some of the other occupants of the monastery--monks,
+lay-brothers, pupils--occasionally passed by, but they did not even lift
+their eyes. Still, there was a certain sense of publicity about the
+interview which made Dino feel that he was not to be welcomed--only
+judged.
+
+Father Cristoforo's face was terrible in its very impassiveness. There
+was no trace of emotion in those rigidly-set features and piercing eyes.
+He looked at Dino for some minutes before he spoke. The young man
+retained his kneeling posture until the Prior said, briefly--
+
+"Rise."
+
+Dino stood up immediately, with folded arms and bowed head. It was not
+his part to speak till he was questioned.
+
+"You left England without permission," said the Prior in a dry tone,
+rather of assertion than of inquiry.
+
+"Reverend Father, yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"There was no reason for me to stay in England. The estate is not mine."
+
+"Who says it is not?"
+
+"Reverend Father, I cannot take it away from those to whom it now
+belongs," said Dino, faltering, and growing red and white by turns.
+
+The Prior looked at him with an examining eye. In spite of his apparent
+coldness, he was shocked by the change that he perceived in his old
+pupil's bearing and appearance. The finely-cut face was wasted; there
+were hollows in the temples and the cheeks, the dew of perspiration upon
+the forehead marked physical weakness as well as agitation. There was
+more kindness in the Prior's manner as he said:--
+
+"You felt, perhaps, the need of rest? The English winds are keen. You
+came to recruit yourself before going back to fight your cause in a
+court of law? You wanted help and counsel?"
+
+Dino's head sank lower upon his breast: he breathed quickly, and did not
+speak.
+
+"Had you not proof sufficient? I sent all necessary papers by a trusty
+messenger. You received them?"
+
+"Yes." Dino's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper.
+
+"You have them with you?"
+
+Dino flashed one look of appeal into the Prior's face, and then sank on
+his knees. "Father," he said, desperately, "I have not done as you
+commanded me. I could not fight this cause. I could not turn them out of
+their inheritance--their home. I destroyed all the papers. There is no
+proof left."
+
+In spite of his self-possession the Prior started. Of this contingency
+he had certainly never thought. He came a step nearer to the young man,
+and spoke with astonished urgency.
+
+"You destroyed the proofs? You? Every one of them?"
+
+"Every one."
+
+A sudden white change passed over Padre Cristoforo's face. His lips
+locked themselves together until they looked like a single line; his
+eyes flashed ominously beneath his heavy brows. In his anger he did, as
+he was privileged to do to any inferior member of his community,
+forgetting that Dino Vasari, with his five-and-twenty years, had passed
+from under his control, and was free to resent an offered indignity. But
+Dino had laid himself open to rebuke by adopting the tone of a penitent.
+Thence it came that the Prior lifted his hand and struck him, as he
+sometimes struck an offending novice--struck him sharply across the
+face. Dino turned scarlet, and then white as death; he sank a little
+lower, and crushed his thin fingers more closely together, but he did
+not speak. For a moment there was silence. The waiting monks, the
+passing pupils who saw the blow given and received, wondered what had
+been the offence of one who used to be considered the brightest ornament
+of the monastic school, the pride and glory of his teachers. His fault
+must be grave, indeed, if it could move the Prior to such wrath.
+
+Padre Cristoforo stood with his hand lifted as if he meant to repeat the
+blow; then it fell slowly to his side. He gathered his loose, black robe
+round him, as though he would not let his skirts touch the kneeling
+figure before him--the scorn of his gesture was unmistakable--and
+hastily turned away. As he went, Dino fell on his face on the marble
+pavement, crushed by the silence rather than the blow. Monks and pupils,
+following the Prior, passed their old companion, and did not dare to
+speak a word of greeting.
+
+But Dino would not move. A wave of religious fervour, of passionate
+yearning for the old devotional life, had come across him. He might die
+on the pavement of the cloister; he would not be sorry even to die and
+have done with the manifold perplexities of life; but he would not rise
+until the Prior--the only father and protector that he had ever
+known--bade him rise. And so he lay, while the noon-day sunlight waxed
+and waned, and the drowsy afternoon declined to dewy eve, and the purple
+twilight faded into night. If the hours seemed long or short, he could
+not tell. A sort of stupor came over him. He knew not what was going on
+around him; dimly he heard feet and voices, and the sound of bells and
+music, but which of the sounds came to him in dreams, and which were
+realities, he could not tell. It was certainly a dream that Brian and
+Elizabeth stood beside him hand-in-hand, and told him to take courage.
+That, as he knew afterwards, was quite too impossible to be true. But it
+was a dream that brought him peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+BY LAND AND SEA.
+
+
+At night the Prior sent for him. Dino's hearing was dulled by fatigue
+and fasting: he did not understand at first what was said. But,
+by-and-bye, he knew that he was ordered to go into the guest-room, where
+the Prior awaited his coming. The command gave Dino an additional pang:
+the guest-room was for strangers, not for one who had been as a child of
+the house. But he lifted himself up feebly from the cold stones, and
+followed the lay-brother, who had brought the message, to the appointed
+place.
+
+The Prior was an austere man, but not devoid of compassion, nor even of
+sympathy. He received Dino with no relaxation of his rather grim
+features, but told him to eat and drink before speaking. "I will not
+talk to you fasting," he said; and Dino felt conscious of some touch of
+compassion in the old man's eyes as he looked at him.
+
+Dino sat, therefore, and tried to eat and drink, but the effort was
+almost in vain. When he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of bread and water
+mixed with a little wine, which was all that he could touch, he stood up
+in token that he was ready for the Prior's questions; and Father
+Cristoforo, who had meanwhile been walking up and down the room with a
+restless air, at once stopped short and began to speak.
+
+Let it be remembered that Dino felt towards this rugged-faced,
+stern-voiced priest as loving as a son feels towards a wise father. His
+affections were strong; and he had few objects on which to expend them.
+The Prior's anger meant to him not merely the displeasure of one in
+authority, but the loss of a love which had shielded and enveloped him
+ever since he came to the monastery-school when he was ten years old. He
+seemed to have an absolute need of it; without it, life was impossible
+to go on.
+
+Father Cristoforo was not without visitings of the same sort of feeling;
+but he allowed no trace of such soft-heartedness to appear as he put
+Dino through a searching examination concerning the way in which he had
+spent his time in England. Dino answered his questions fully and
+clearly: he had nothing that he wished to hide. Even the Prior could not
+accuse him of a wish to excuse himself. He told the story of his
+interview with Hugo, of the dinner, of Hugo's attack upon him, and of
+his sojourn in the hospital, where Brian had sought him out and
+convinced him (without knowing that he was doing so) of his innocence
+with respect to Hugo's plot. Then came the story of his intercourse with
+Brian, his discovery that Brian's happiness hinged upon his love for
+Elizabeth Murray, and his attempts to unravel the very tangled skein of
+his friend's fortunes. Mr. Brett's opinion of the case, Brian's letter
+to Mrs. Luttrell, Dino's own visit to Scotland, with its varied effects,
+including the final destruction of the papers--all this was quietly and
+fully detailed, with an occasional interruption only from Padre
+Cristoforo in the shape of a question or a muttered comment. And when
+the whole story was told the Prior spoke.
+
+Everything that Dino had done was, of course, wrong. He ought never to
+have seen Hugo, or dined with him: he ought to have gone to Father
+Connolly, the priest to whose care he had been recommended, as soon as
+he came out of hospital: he ought never to have interfered in Brian's
+love affairs, nor gone to Scotland, nor sought to impose conditions on
+Mrs. Luttrell, nor, in short, done any of the thousand and one things
+that he had done. As for the destruction of the papers, it was a point
+on which he (Father Cristoforo) hardly dared, he said, with a shrug of
+his shoulders, to touch. The base ingratitude, the unfaithfulness to the
+interests of the Church, the presumption, the pride, the wilfulness,
+manifested in that action, transcended all his powers of reprobation.
+The matter must be referred to a higher authority than his. And so
+forth. And every word he said was like a dagger planted in Dino's
+breast.
+
+As for his desire to be a monk, the Prior repudiated the notion with
+contempt. Dino Vasari a monk, after this lapse from obedience and
+humility? He was not fit to do the humblest work of the lowest servant
+of those who lived by the altar. He had not even shown common penitence
+for his sin. Let him do that: let him humble himself: let him sit in
+dust and ashes, metaphorically speaking: and then, by-and-bye, the
+Church might open her arms to him, and listen to the voice of his
+prayer. But now--Father Cristoforo declined even to hear any formal
+confession: his pupil must wait and prepare himself, before he was fit
+for the sacrament of penance.
+
+To Dino, this was a hard sentence. He did not know that the Prior was
+secretly much better satisfied with his submissive state of mind than he
+chose to allow, or that he had made up his mind to relax his severity on
+the morrow. Just for this one night the Prior had resolved to be stern
+and harsh. "I will make him eat dust," he said to himself, out of his
+real vexation and disappointment, as he looked vengefully at Dino, who
+was lying face downwards on the ground, weeping with all the
+self-abandonment of his nature. "He must never rebel again." The Prior
+knew that his measures were generally effectual: he meant to take strong
+ones now.
+
+"There is something more in it that I can understand," he murmured to
+himself, presently, after he had taken a few turns up and down the room.
+He halted beside Dino's prostrate form, and looked down upon it with a
+hidden gentleness shining out of his deep-set eyes. But he would not
+speak gently. "You have not told me all," he said. "Rise: let me see
+your face."
+
+Dino struggled to his knees, and, after a moment's hesitation, dropped
+his hands to his sides.
+
+"What else have you to tell me?" said the priest, fixing his eyes on the
+young man's face, as if he could read the secrets of his soul.
+
+"I have told you all that I did," stammered Dino.
+
+"But not all that you thought."
+
+There was a short silence. Then Dino spoke again, in short-broken
+sentences, which at times the Prior could scarcely hear.
+
+"Reverend Father, there is one thought, one feeling. I do not know what
+it is. I am haunted by a face which never leaves me. And yet I saw it
+twice only: once in a picture and once in life; but it comes between me
+and my prayers. I cannot forget her."
+
+"Whose face was this?" asked the Prior, with the subtle change of eye
+and lip which showed that Dino's answer had fulfilled his expectations.
+"Her name?"
+
+But the name that Dino murmured was not one that Padre Cristoforo had
+expected to hear from him.
+
+"Elizabeth Murray!" he repeated. "The woman that Brian Luttrell
+loves--for whose sake you gave up your inheritance--that you might not
+turn her out. The mystery is solved. I see the motive now. You love this
+woman."
+
+"And if I have loved her, if I do love her," said Dino, passionately,
+his whole face lighting up with impetuous feeling, and his hands
+trembling as they clasped each other, "it is no sin to love."
+
+The Prior gave him a long, steady gaze. "You have sacrificed your faith
+to your love," he said, "and that is a sin. You have forgotten your
+obedience to the Church for a woman's sake--and that is a sin. Lastly,
+you come here professing a monk's vocation, yet acknowledging--with
+reluctance--that this woman's face comes between you and your prayers. I
+do not say that this is a sin, but I say that you had better leave us
+to-morrow, for you have proved yourself unfit for the life that we lead
+at San Stefano. Go back to Scotland and marry. Or, if you cannot do
+that, we will give you money, and start you in some professional career;
+your aims are too low, your will is too weak, for us."
+
+Again the Prior was not quite in earnest. He wanted to try the strength
+of his pupil's resolve. But when Dino said, "I will not leave you, I
+will tend the vines and the goats at your door, but I will never go
+away," the priest felt a revival of all the old tenderness which he had
+been used to lavish silently on the brown-eyed boy who had come to him
+from old Assunta.
+
+"I will not go!" cried Dino. "I have no one in the world but you. Ah, my
+father, will you never forgive me?"
+
+"It is not my forgiveness you need," said the Prior, shortly. "But come,
+the hour is late. We will give you shelter for the night, at least."
+
+"Let me go to the chapel first," pleaded Dino, in a voice which had
+suddenly grown faint. "I dared not enter it this morning, but now let me
+pray there for a little while. I must ask forgiveness there."
+
+"Pray there if you choose," said the Prior; "and pray for the penitence
+which you have yet to learn. When that is won, then talk of
+forgiveness."
+
+He coldly withdrew the hand that Dino tried to kiss; he left the room
+without uttering one word of comfort or encouragement. It was good for
+his pupil, he thought, to be driven well-nigh to despair.
+
+Dino, left to himself, remained for a few minutes in the posture in
+which the Prior had left him; then rose and made his way, slowly and
+feebly, to the little monastery chapel, where a solitary lamp swung
+before the altar, and a flood of moonlight fell through the coloured
+panes of the clerestory windows. Dino stood passive in that flood of
+moonlight, almost forgetting why he had come. His brain was dizzy, his
+heart was sick. His mind was distracted with the thought of a guilt
+which he did not feel to be his own, of sin for which his conscience did
+not smite him. For, with a strange commingling of clear-sightedness and
+submission to authority, he still believed that he had done perfectly
+right in giving up his claim to the Scotch estate, and yet, with all his
+heart, desired to feel that he had done wrong. And when the words with
+which Father Cristoforo had reproached him came back to his mind, his
+burden seemed greater than he could bear. With a moan of pain he sank
+down close beside the altar-steps. And there, through the midnight
+hours, he lay alone and wrestled with himself.
+
+It was no use. Everything fell from him in that hour except that faith
+and that love which had been the controlling powers of his life. He had
+loved Brian as a brother; and he had done well: he had loved
+Elizabeth--though he had not known that the dreaming fancies which had
+lately centred round her deserved the name which the Prior had given to
+them--and he had not done ill; and it was right that he should give to
+them, what might, perhaps, avail to make their lives a little
+happier--at any rate all that he had to give. The Prior had said that he
+was wrong. And would the good God, whom he had always loved and
+worshipped from the days of his earliest boyhood, would the Good God
+condemn him, too! He did not think so. He was not sorry for what he had
+done at all.
+
+No, he did not repent.
+
+But how would it fare with him next day if he told the Prior this, the
+inmost conviction of his heart? He would be told again that he was not
+fit to be a monk. And the desire to be a monk--curious as it may seem to
+us--had grown up with Dino as a beautiful ideal. Was he now to be thrust
+out into the world--the world where men stole and lied and stabbed each
+other in the dark, all for the sake of a few acres of land or a handful
+of gold pieces--and denied the hard, ascetic, yet tranquil and
+finely-ordered life which he had hoped to lead, when he put on his
+monkish robe, for the remainder of his days?
+
+Dino was an enthusiast: he might, perhaps, have been disenchanted if he
+had lived as one of themselves amongst the brethren who seemed to him so
+enviable; but just now his whole being rose in revolt against a decision
+which deprived him of all that he had been taught to consider blessed.
+
+Then a strange revulsion of feeling came. There were good men in the
+world, he remembered, as well as bad: there were beautiful women; there
+was art, and music, and much that makes life seem worth living. Why,
+after all, if the monks rejected him, should he not go to the world and
+take his pleasure there like other men? And there came a vision of
+Elizabeth, with her pale face turned to him in pity, and her hand
+beckoning him to follow her. Then, after a little interval, he came to
+himself, and knew that his mind had wandered; and so, in order to steady
+his thoughts, he began to speak aloud, and a novice, who had been sent
+to say a certain number of prayers at that hour in church by way of
+penance, started from a fitful slumber on his knees, and heard the words
+that Dino said. They sounded strange to the young novice: he repeated
+them next day with a sense that he might be uttering blasphemy, and was
+very much astonished when the Prior drew his hand across his eyes as if
+to wipe away a tear, and did not seem horrified in the very least. And
+this was what Dino said:--
+
+"Wrong! Wrong! All wrong! And yet it seemed right to love God's
+creatures.... Perhaps I loved them too much. So I am punished.... But,
+after all, He knows: He understands. If they put me out of His church,
+perhaps He will let me serve Him somewhere--somehow--I don't know where:
+He knows. Oh, my God, if I have loved another more than Thee, forgive
+me ... and let me rest ... for I am tired--tired--tired----"
+
+The voice sank into an inarticulate murmur, in which the novice,
+frightened and perplexed, could not distinguish words. Then there was
+silence. One little sigh escaped those lips, and that was all. The
+novice turned and fled, terrified at those words of prayer, which seemed
+to him so different from any that he had ever heard--so different that
+they must be wrong!
+
+At four in the morning the monks came in to chant their morning prayer.
+One by one they dropped into their places, scarcely noticing the
+prostrate figure before the altar-steps. It was usual enough for one of
+their number, or even a stranger staying in the monastery, to humiliate
+himself in that manner as a public penance. The Prior only gave a little
+start, as if an electric shock passed through his frame, when, on taking
+his seat in the choir, his eye fell upon that motionless form. But he
+did not leave his place until the last prayer had been said, the last
+psalm chanted. Then he rose and walked deliberately to the place where
+Dino lay, and laid his hand upon his head.
+
+"My son!" he said, gently. There was a great fear in his face, a tremor
+of startled emotion in his voice. "Dino, my beloved! I pardon thee."
+
+But Dino did not hear. His prayer had been granted him; he was at rest.
+God had been more merciful than man. The Prior's pardon came too late.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And far away, on a southern sea, where each great wave threatened to
+engulf the tiny boat which seemed like a child's toy thrown upon the
+waters, three men were struggling for dear life--for the life that Dino
+Vasari had been so ready to lay down--toiling, with broken oars, and
+roughly-fashioned sails, and ragged streamers as signals of distress, to
+win their way back to solid land, and live once more with their fellows
+the common but precious life of common men.
+
+They had narrowly escaped death by fire, and were fast losing hope of
+ultimate rescue. For five days they had been tossing on the waves of the
+Southern Atlantic, and they had seen as yet no sign of land; no friendly
+sail bearing down upon them to bring relief. Their stock of food was
+scanty, the water supply had now entirely failed. The tortures of a
+raging thirst under a sultry sky had begun: the men's lips were black
+and swollen, their bloodshot eyes searched the horizon in anguished,
+fruitless yearning. There was no cloud in all the great expanse of blue:
+there was nothing to be seen between sea and sky but this one frail boat
+with its three occupants. Another and a larger boat had set out with
+them, but they had lost sight of it in the night. There had been five
+men in this little cockle-shell when they left the ship; but one of them
+had lost his senses and jumped over-board, drowning before their very
+eyes; and one, a mere lad, had died on the second day from injuries
+received on board the burning vessel. And of the three who were left, it
+seemed as if one, at least, would speedily succumb to the exposure and
+privations which they had been driven to endure.
+
+This man lay prostrate at the bottom of the boat. He could hold out no
+longer. His half-closed eyes, his open mouth and swollen features showed
+the suffering which had brought him to this pass. Another man sat bowed
+together in a kind of torpor. A third, the oldest and most experienced
+of the party, kept his hand upon the tiller; but there was a sullen
+hopelessness in his air, a nerveless dejection in the pose of his limbs,
+which showed that he had neither strength nor inclination to fight much
+longer against fate.
+
+It was at nine o'clock on the fifth day of their perilous voyage, that
+the steersman lifted up his eyes, and saw a faint trail of smoke on the
+horizon. He uttered a hoarse, inarticulate cry, and rose up, pointing
+with one shaking finger to the distant sign. "A steamer!" He could say
+nothing more, but the word was enough. It called back life even to the
+dull eyes of the man who had lain down to die. And he who was sitting
+with his head bowed wearily upon his knees, looked up with a quick,
+sudden flicker of hope which seemed likely enough to be extinguished as
+soon as it was evident.
+
+For it was probable that the steamer would merely cross the line of
+vision and disappear, without approaching them near enough to be of any
+use. Eagerly they watched. They strained their eyes to see it: they
+spent their strength in rigging up a tattered garment or two to serve as
+a signal of distress. Then, they waited through hours of sickening,
+terrible suspense. And the steamer loomed into sight: nearer it came and
+nearer. They were upon its track: surely succour was nigh at hand.
+
+And succour came. The great vessel slackened its pace: it came to a
+standstill and waited, heaving to and fro upon the waters, as if it were
+a live thing with a beating and compassionate heart. The two men in the
+boat, standing up and faintly endeavouring to raise their voices, saw
+that a great crowd of heads was turned towards them from the sides of
+the vessel, that a boat was lowered and pushed off. The plashing of
+oars, the sound of a cheer, came to the ears of the seafarers. The old
+sailor muttered something that sounded like "Thank God!" and his
+companion burst into tears, but the man at the bottom of the boat lay
+still: they had not been able to make him hear or understand. The
+officer in the boat from the steamer stood up as it approached, and to
+him the old man addressed himself as soon as he could speak.
+
+"We're the second mate and bo'sun of the _Falcon_, sir, and one steerage
+passenger. Destroyed by fire five days ago; and we've been in this here
+cockle-shell ever since." But his voice was so husky and dry that he was
+almost unintelligible. "Mates, for the love of Heaven, give us summat to
+drink," cried the other man, as he was lifted into the boat. And in a
+few minutes they were speeding back to the steamer, and the sailors were
+trying to pour a few drops of brandy and water down the parched throat
+of the one man who seemed to be beyond speech and movement.
+
+The mate was able to give a concise account of the perils of the last
+few days when he arrived on board the _Arizona_; but there was little to
+relate. The story of a fire, of a hurried escape, of the severance of
+the boats, and the agonies of thirst endured by the survivors had
+nothing in it that was particularly new. The captain dismissed the men
+good-humouredly to the care of cook and steward: it was only the
+steerage passenger who required to be put under the doctor's care. It
+seemed that he had been hurt by the falling of a spar, and severely
+scorched in trying to save a child who was in imminent danger; and,
+though he had at first been the most cheery and hopeful of the party,
+his strength had soon failed, and he had lain half or wholly unconscious
+for the greater part of the last two or three days.
+
+There was one passenger on board the _Arizona_ who listened to all these
+details with a keener interest than that shown by any other listener. He
+went down and talked to the men himself as soon as he had the chance and
+asked their names. One of the officers came with him, and paid an almost
+equally keen attention to the replies.
+
+"Mine's Thomas Jackson, sir; and the bo'sun's name it is Fall--Andrew
+Fall. And the passenger, sir? Steerage he was: he was called Mackay."
+
+"No, he warn't," said the boatswain, in a gruff tone. "Saving your
+presence, sir, his name was Smith."
+
+"Mackay," said the mate, with equal positiveness. "And a fine fellow he
+was, too, and one of the best for cheering of us up with his stories and
+songs; and not above a bit of a prayer, too, when the worst came to the
+worst. I heard him myself."
+
+"No sign of your friend here, Mr. Heron, I'm afraid," whispered the
+ship's officer.
+
+"I am afraid not. Was there a passenger on board the _Falcon_ called
+Stretton."
+
+"No, sir. I'm sure o' that."
+
+"Or--Luttrell?"
+
+Percival Heron knew well enough that no such name had been found amongst
+the list of passengers; but he had a vague notion that Brian might have
+resumed his former appellation for some reason or other after he came on
+board. Thomas Jackson considered the subject for a few minutes.
+
+"I ain't rightly sure, sir. Seems to me there was a gent of that name,
+or something like it, on board: but if so, he was amongst those in the
+other boat."
+
+"I should like to see this man Mackay--or Smith," said Percival.
+
+The berth in which the steerage passenger lay was pointed out to him: he
+looked at the face upon the pillow, and shook his head. A rough,
+reddened, blistered face it was, with dirt grained into the pores and
+matting the hair and beard: not in the least like the countenance of the
+man whom he had come to seek.
+
+"We may fall in with the other boat," suggested the officer.
+
+But though the steamer went out of her course in search of it, and a
+careful watch was kept throughout the day and night, the other boat
+could not be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+WRECKED.
+
+
+Percival cultivated acquaintance with the two sailors, and tried to
+obtain from them some description of the passengers on board the
+_Falcon_. But description was not their forte. He gained nothing but a
+clumsy mass of separate facts concerning passengers and crew, which
+assisted him little in forming an opinion as to whether Brian Luttrell
+had, or had not, been on board. He was inclined to think--not.
+
+"But he seemed to have a slippery habit of turning up in odd places
+where you don't in the least expect to find him," soliloquised Percival
+over a cigar. "Why couldn't he have stayed comfortably dead in that
+glacier? Or why did the brain fever not carry him off? He has as many
+lives as a cat. He, drowned or burnt when the _Falcon_ was on fire? Not
+a bit of it. I'll believe in Mr. Brian Luttrell's death when I have seen
+him screwed into his coffin, followed him to the grave, ordered a
+headstone, and written his epitaph. And even then, I should feel that
+there was no knowing whether he had not buried himself under false
+pretences, and was, in reality, enjoying life at the Antipodes. I don't
+know anybody else who can be, 'like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once.'
+I shall nail him to one _alias_ for the future, if I catch him. But
+there seems very little chance of my catching him at all. I've come on a
+wild-goose chase, and can't expect to succeed."
+
+This mood of comparative depression did not last long. Percival felt
+certain that the other boat would be overtaken, or that Brian would be
+found to have sailed in another ship. He could not reconcile himself to
+any idea of returning to Elizabeth with his task half done.
+
+They were nearing the Equator, and the heat of the weather was great. It
+was less fine, however, than was usually the case, and when Percival
+turned into his berth one night, he noticed that the stars were hidden,
+and that rain was beginning to fall. He slept lightly, and woke now and
+then to hear the swish of water outside, and the beat of the engines,
+the dragging of a rope, or the step of a sailor overhead. He was
+dreaming of Elizabeth, and that she was standing with him beside Brian
+Luttrell's grave, when suddenly he awoke with a violent start, and a
+sense that the world was coming to an end. In another moment he was out
+of his berth and on the floor. There had been a scraping sound, then a
+crash--and then the engines had stopped. There was a swaying sensation
+for a second or two, and then another bump. Percival knew instinctively
+what was the matter. The ship had struck.
+
+After that moment's silence there was an outcry, a trampling of feet, a
+few minutes' wild confusion. The voice of the captain rose strong and
+clear above the hubbub as he gave his orders. Percival, already
+half-dressed, made his appearance on deck and soon learned what was the
+matter. The ship had struck twice heavily, and was now filling as
+rapidly as possible. The sailors were making preparations for launching
+the long boat. "Women and children first," said the captain, in his
+stentorian tones.
+
+The noise subsided as he made his calm presence felt. The children
+cried, indeed, and a few of the women shrieked aloud; but the men
+passengers and crew alike, bestirred themselves to collect necessary
+articles, to reassure the timid, and to make ready the boats.
+
+Percival was amongst the busiest and the bravest. His strength made him
+useful, and it was easier for him to use it in practical work than to
+stand and watch the proceedings, or even to console women and children.
+For one moment he had a deep and bitter sense of anger against the
+ordering of his fate. Was he to go down into the deep waters in the
+hey-day of his youth and strength, before he had done his work or tasted
+the reward of work well done? Had Brian Luttrell experienced a like
+fate? And what would become of Elizabeth, sitting lonely in the midst of
+splendours which she had felt were not justly hers, waiting for weeks
+and months and years, perhaps, for the lovers who would never come back
+until the sea gave up its dead?
+
+Percival crushed back the thought. There was no time for anything but
+action. And his senses seemed gifted with preternatural acuteness. He
+saw a child near him put her little hand into that of a
+soldierly-looking man, and heard her whisper--"You won't leave me,
+papa?" And the answer--"Never, my darling. Don't fear." Just behind him
+a man whispered in a woman's ear--"Forgive me, Mary." Percival wondered
+vaguely what that woman had to forgive. He never saw any of the speakers
+again.
+
+For a strange thing happened. Strange, at least, it seemed to him; but
+he understood it afterwards. The ship was really resting upon a ledge of
+the rock on which she had struck: there was little to be seen in the
+darkness except a white line of breakers and a mass of something
+beyond--was it land? The ship gave a sudden outward lurch. There went up
+a cry to Heaven--a last cry from most of the souls on board the
+ill-fated _Arizona_--and then came the end. The vessel fell over the
+edge of the rocky shelf into deep water and went down like a stone.
+
+Percival was a good swimmer, and struck out vigorously, without any
+expectation, however, of being able to maintain himself in the water for
+more than a very short time. Escape from the tangled rigging and
+floating pieces of the wreck was a difficult matter; but the water was
+very calm inside the reef, and not at all cold. He tried to save a woman
+as she was swept past him: for a time he supported a child, but the
+effort to save it was useless. The little creature's head struck against
+some portion of the wreck and it was killed on the spot. Percival let
+the little dead face sink away from him into the water and swam further
+from the point where it went down.
+
+"There must be others saved as well as myself," he thought, when he was
+able to think at all coherently. "At least, let me keep myself up till
+daylight. One may see some way of escape then." It had been three
+o'clock when the ship struck. He had remembered to look at his watch
+when he was first aroused. Would his strength last out till morning?
+
+If his safety had depended entirely on his swimming powers he would have
+been, indeed in evil case. But long before the first faint streak of
+dawn appeared, it seemed to him that he was coming in contact with
+something solid--that there was something hard and firm beneath him
+which he could touch from time to time. The truth came to him at last.
+The tide was going down; and as it went down, it would leave a portion
+of the reef within his reach. There might be some unwashed point to
+which he could climb as soon as daylight came. At any rate, as the
+waters ebbed, he found that he could cling to the rock, and then, that
+he could even stand upon it, although the waves broke over him at every
+moment, and sometimes nearly washed him from his hold.
+
+Never was daylight more anxiously awaited. It came at last; a faint,
+grey light in the east, a climbing flush of rose-colour, a host of
+crimson wavelets on a golden sea. And, as soon as the darkness
+disappeared, Percival found that his conjecture was a correct one. He
+was not alone. There were others beside himself who had won their way to
+even safer positions than his own. Portions of the reef on which the
+ship had struck were now to be plainly seen above the sea-level; it was
+plain that they were rarely touched by the salt water, for there was an
+attempt at vegetation in one or two places. And beyond the reef Percival
+saw land, and land that it would be easy enough to reach.
+
+He turned to look for the remains of the _Arizona_, but there was little
+to be seen. The tops of her masts were visible only in the deep water
+near the reef. Spars, barrels, articles of furniture, could here and
+there be distinguished; nothing of value nor of interest. Percival
+determined to try for the shore. But first he would see whether he could
+help the other men whom he had discerned at a little distance from him
+on a higher portion of the reef.
+
+He crept out to them, feeling his way cautiously, and not sure whether
+he might not be swept off his feet by the force of the waves. To his
+surprise, when he reached the two men, he found that they were two of
+the survivors from the wreck of the _Falcon_. One of them was Thomas
+Jackson, and the other was Mackay, the steerage passenger.
+
+"It's plain you weren't born to be drowned," said Percival, addressing
+Jackson, familiarly.
+
+"No, sir, it don't seem like it," returned the man. "There's one or two
+more that have saved themselves by swimming, too, I fancy. We'd better
+make land while we can, sir."
+
+"Your friend's not able to help himself much, is he?" said Percival,
+with a sharp glance at the bearded face of the steerage passenger.
+
+"Swims like a duck when he's all right, sir; but at present he's got a
+broken leg. Fainted just now; he'll be better presently. I wouldn't have
+liked to leave him behind."
+
+"We'll haul him ashore between us," said Percival.
+
+It was more easily said than done; but the task was accomplished at
+last. Thomas Jackson was of a wiry frame: Percival's trained muscles (he
+had been in the boats at Oxford) stood him in good stead. They reached
+the mainland, carrying the steerage passenger with them; for the poor
+man, not yet half-recovered from the effects of exposure and privation,
+and now suffering from a fracture of the bone just above the ankle, was
+certainly not in a fit state to help himself. On the island they found a
+few cocoa-nut trees: under one of these they laid their burden, and then
+returned to the shore to see whether there was any other castaway whom
+they could assist.
+
+In this search they were successful. One man had already followed their
+example and swam ashore, but he was so much exhausted that they felt
+bound to help him to the friendly shade of the cocoa-nut trees, where
+the steerage passenger, now conscious of his position, and as deadly
+white with the pain of his broken bone as the discolouration of his
+scorched face permitted him to be, moved aside a little in order to make
+room for him. There was another man on the reef; but he had been crushed
+between the upper and lower topsails, and it was almost impossible to
+get him to shore. Percival and Jackson made the effort, but a great wave
+swept the man into a cavern of the reef to which he was clinging before
+they could come to his assistance, and he was not seen again. With a lad
+of sixteen and another sailor they were more fortunate. So that when at
+last they met under the tree to compare notes and count their numbers,
+they found that the party consisted of six persons: Heron, Thomas
+Jackson, and his pet, the steerage passenger; George Pollard, the
+steward; Fenwick, the sailor; and Jim Barry, the cabin boy. They stared
+at each other in rather helpless silence for about a minute, and then
+Heron burst into a strange laugh.
+
+"Well, I've heard of a desert island all my life," he said, "but I never
+was on one before."
+
+"I was," said Fenwick, slowly, "and I didn't expect to get landed upon
+another. But, Lord! if once you go to sea, there's no telling."
+
+"You must feel thankful that you're landed at all," remarked Percival.
+"You might have been food for the fishes by this time."
+
+"I'd most as soon," said Fenwick, in a stolid tone, which had a
+depressing effect on the spirits of some of the party. The lad Barry
+began to whimper a little, and Pollard looked very downcast.
+
+"Cheer up, lads," said Percival, quickly. It was wonderful to see how
+naturally he fell into a position of command amongst them. "That isn't
+the way to get home again. Never fear but a ship will pass the island
+and pick us up. We can't be far out of the ordinary course of the
+steamers. We shall be here a day or two only, or a week, perhaps. What
+do you say, Jackson?"
+
+Jackson drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and seemed to
+meditate a reply; but while he considered the matter, the steerage
+passenger spoke for the first time.
+
+"Mr. Heron is right," he said, causing Percival a moment's surprise at
+the fact of his name being so accurately known by a man to whom he had
+never spoken either on board the _Arizona_ or since they landed. "We all
+ought to feel thankful to Almighty God for bringing us safe to land,
+instead of grumbling that the island has no inhabitants. We have had a
+wonderful escape."
+
+"And so say I, sir," said Jackson, touching an imaginary cap with his
+forefinger, while Barry and Fenwick both looked a little ashamed of
+themselves, and Pollard mechanically followed the example set by the
+sailor. "Them as grumbles had better keep out of my sight unless they
+want to be kicked."
+
+"You're fine fellows, both of you," cried Percival, heartily. And then
+he shook hands with Jackson, and would have followed suit with the
+steerage passenger, had not Mackay drawn back his hand.
+
+"I'm not in condition for shaking hands with anybody," he said, with a
+smile; and Percival remembered his burns and was content.
+
+"I know this place," said Jackson, looking round him presently. "It's a
+dangerous reef, and there's been a many accidents near it. Ships give it
+a wide berth, as a general rule." The men's faces drooped when they
+heard this sentence. "The _Duncan Dunbar_ was wrecked here on the way to
+Auckland. The _Mercurius_, coming back from Sydney by way of 'Frisco,
+she was wrecked, too--in '70. It's the Rocas Reef, mates, which you may
+have heard of or you may not; and, as near as I remember, it's about
+three degrees south of the Line: longitude thirty-three twenty, west."
+
+"I remember now," said Percival, eagerly. His work as a journalist
+helped him to remember the event to which Jackson alluded. "The men of
+the _Mercurius_ found some iron tanks filled with water, left by the
+_Duncan Dunbar_ people. We might go and see if they are still here. But
+first we must attend to this man's leg."
+
+"It is not very bad," said Mackay.
+
+"It's tremendously swollen, at any rate. Are you good at this sort of
+work, Jackson? I can't say I am."
+
+"I know something about it," said Jackson. "Let's have a look, mate."
+
+He knelt down and felt the swollen limb, putting its owner to
+considerable pain, as Percival judged from the way in which he set his
+teeth during the operation. Jackson had, however, a tolerable knowledge
+of a rough sort of surgery, and managed to set the bone and bind up the
+swollen limb in a manner that showed skill and tenderness as well as
+knowledge. And then Percival proposed that they should try to find some
+food, and make the tour of the island before the day grew hotter. The
+leadership of the party had been tacitly accorded to him from the first;
+and, after a consultation with the others, Jackson stepped forward to
+say that they all wished to consider themselves under Mr. Heron's
+orders, "he having more head than the rest of them, and being a
+gentleman born, no doubt." At which Heron laughed good-humouredly and
+accepted the position. "And none of us grudge you being the head," said
+Jackson, sagely, "except, maybe, one, and he don't count." Heron made no
+response; but he wondered for a moment whether the one who grudged him
+his leadership could possibly be Mackay, whose eyes had a quiet
+attentiveness to all his doings, which looked almost like criticism. But
+there was no other fault to be found with Mackay's manner, while against
+Fenwick's dogged air Percival felt some irritation.
+
+The want of food was decidedly the first difficulty. Sea-birds' eggs and
+young birds, shell-fish and turtle, were all easily to be obtained; but
+how were they to be cooked? Percival was not without hopes that some
+tinned provisions might be cast ashore from the wreck; but at present
+there was nothing of the kind to be seen. A few cocoa-nuts were
+procurable: and these provided them with meat and drink for the time
+being. Then came the question of fire. The only possible method of
+obtaining it was the Indian one of rubbing two sticks diligently
+together for the space of some two hours; and Thomas Jackson sat down
+with stoical patience worthy of an Indian himself to fulfil this
+operation.
+
+Percival, who felt that he could not bear to be doing nothing, started
+off for a walk round the island, and the rest of the party dozed in the
+shade until the return of their leader.
+
+When Heron came back he made his report as cheerful as he could, but he
+could not make it a particularly brilliant one, although he did his
+best. He was one of those men who grumble at trifles, but are unusually
+bright and cheerful in the presence of a great emergency. The sneer had
+left his face, the cynical accent had disappeared from his voice; he
+employed all his social gifts, which were naturally great, for the
+entertainment of his comrades. As they ate boiled eggs and fried fish
+and other morsels which seemed especially dainty when cooked over the
+fire that Jackson's patient industry had lighted at last, the spirits of
+the whole party seemed to rise; and Percival's determination to look
+upon the bright side of things, produced a most enlivening effect. Some
+of them remembered afterwards, with a sort of puzzled wonder, that they
+had more than once laughed heartily during their first meal upon the
+Rocas Reef.
+
+Yet none of them were insensible to the danger through which they had
+passed, nor the terrible position in which they stood. Uppermost in the
+minds of each, although none of them liked to put it into words, was the
+question--How long shall we stay here? Is it likely that any ship will
+observe our signal of distress and come to our aid? They looked each
+other furtively in the eyes, and read no comfort in each other's face.
+
+They had landed upon one of two islands, about fifteen acres each in
+size, which were separated at high water, but communicated with each
+other when the tide had ebbed. Both islands lay low, and had patches of
+white sand in the centre; but there was very little vegetation. Even
+grass seemed as if it would not grow; and the cocoa-nut trees were few
+and far between.
+
+The signs of previous wrecks struck the men's hearts with a chill. There
+was a log hut, to which Mackay was moved when evening came on; there
+were the iron tanks of which Percival had made mention, filled with
+rain-water; there were some rotten boards, and a small hammer and a
+broken knife; but there was no fresh-water spring, and there were no
+provision chests, such as Heron had vainly hoped to find.
+
+The setting up of a distress-signal on the highest point of the island
+was the next matter to be attended to; and for this purpose nothing
+could be found more suitable than a very large yellow silk-handkerchief
+which Percival had found in his pocket. It did not make a very large
+flag, although it was enormous as a handkerchief; but no other article
+of clothing could well be spared. Indeed, the spareness of their
+coverings was a matter of some regret and anxiety on Percival's part. He
+could not conceive what they were to do if they were on the island for
+more than a few days; the rough work which would be probably necessary
+being somewhat destructive of woollen and linen garments. Jackson, with
+whom he ventured a joke on the subject, did not receive it in very good
+part. "You needn't talk as if we was to stay here for ever, Mr. Heron,
+sir," he murmured. "But there's always cocoa-nut fibre, if the worst
+comes to the worst."
+
+"Ah, yes, cocoa-nut fibre," said Percival, turning his eyes to one of
+the slim, straight stems of the palm trees. "I forgot that. I seem to
+have walked straight into one of Jules Verne's books. Gad! I wish I
+could walk out of it again. What a thrilling narrative I'll make of this
+for the _Mail_ when I get home. If ever I do get home. Bah, it's no use
+to talk of that."
+
+These reflections were made under his breath, while Jackson walked on to
+examine a nest of sea-birds' eggs; for Percival was wisely resolved
+against showing a single sign of undue anxiety or depression of spirits,
+lest it should re-act on the minds of those who had declared themselves
+his followers. For the rest of the day the party worked hard at various
+contrivances for their own welfare and comfort.
+
+Firewood was collected; birds and fish caught for the evening meal. To
+each member of the party a task was assigned: even Mackay could make
+himself useful by watching the precious flame which must never be
+suffered to go out. And thus the day wore on, and night came with its
+purple stillness and its tropical wealth of stars.
+
+The men sought shelter in the hut: Percival only, by his own choice,
+remained outside until he thought that they were sleeping. He wanted to
+be alone. He had banished reflection pretty successfully during the day;
+but at night he knew that it would get the better of him. And he felt
+that he must meet and master the thronging doubts and fears and regrets
+that assailed him. Whatever happened he would not be sorry that he had
+come. If he never saw Elizabeth's face again, he was sure that her
+memories of him would be full of tenderness. What more did he want? And
+yet he wanted more.
+
+He found out what his heart desired before he laid himself down to sleep
+amongst the men. He would have given a year of his life to know whether
+Brian Luttrell was alive or dead. And he could not honestly say that he
+wished Brian Luttrell to be alive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+ON THE ROCAS REEF.
+
+
+The morning light showed several articles on the shore which had been
+washed up from the wreck. Some tins of biscuits were likely to be very
+useful, and a box of carpenter's tools, most of them sadly rusted, was
+welcomed eagerly; but nothing else was found, and the day might have
+begun with murmurs of discontent but for a discovery made by Mackay,
+which restored satisfaction to the men's faces.
+
+Close by his head in the log hut where he had spent the night, he found
+a sort of cupboard--something like a rabbit-hutch. And this cupboard
+contained--oh, joyful discovery!--not gold or gems, nor any such useless
+glittering lumber, but something far more precious to these weary
+mariners--two bottles of brandy and a chest of tea. Perhaps a former
+sojourner on the island had placed them in that hiding-place, thinking
+compassionately of the voyagers who might in some future day find
+themselves in bitter need upon the Rocas Reef. "Whoever it was as left
+'em here," said Pollard, "got off safe again, you may depend on it; and
+so shall we." Percival said nothing: he had been thinking that perhaps
+the former owner of this buried treasure had died upon the island. He
+hoped that they would not find his grave.
+
+He measured out some tea for the morning's meal, but decided that
+neither tea nor spirits should be used, except on special occasions or
+in cases of illness. The men accepted his decision as a reasonable one;
+they were all well-disposed and tractable on the whole. Percival was
+amazed to find them so easy to manage. But they were more depressed that
+morning at the thought of their lost comrades, their wrecked ship, and
+the prospect of passing an indefinite time upon the coral-reef, than
+they had been on the previous day. It was a relief when they were busy
+at their respective tasks; and Percival found an odd kind of pleasure in
+all sorts of hard and unusual work; in breaking up rotten planks, for
+instance; in extracting old nails painfully and laboriously from them
+for future use; and in tramping to and fro between the sea-shore and the
+log hut, carrying the driftwood deposited on the sand to a more
+convenient resting-place. They had planned to build another hut, as the
+existing structure was both small and frail; and Percival laboured at
+his work like a giant. In the hot time of the day, however, he was glad
+to do as the others did; to throw down his tools, such as they were, and
+creep into the shadow of the log hut. The heat was very great; and the
+men were beginning to suffer from the bites of venomous ants which
+infested the island. In short, as Percival said to himself, the Rocas
+Reef was about as little like Robinson Crusoe's island as it could
+possibly be. Life would be greatly ameliorated if goats and parrots
+could be found amongst the rocks; shell-fish and sea-fowl were a poor
+exchange for them; and an island that was "desert" in reality as well as
+in name, was a decidedly prosaic place on which to spend a few days, or
+weeks, or months. Of course he made none of these remarks in public; he
+contented himself with humming in an undertone the words of Alexander
+Selkirk, as interpreted by Cowper:--
+
+    "I am monarch of all I survey,
+    My right there is none to dispute--"
+
+a quotation which brought a meaning smile to Mackay's face, whereupon
+Percival laughed and checked himself.
+
+"How are you to-day?" he said, addressing the steerage passenger with
+some show of good-humoured interest. Mackay was lying on the sand,
+propped up against the wall of the hut, and Percival was breaking his
+nails over an obstinate screw which was deeply embedded in a thick piece
+of wood.
+
+"Better, thanks." The voice was curiously hoarse and gruff.
+
+"Jackson isn't a bad surgeon, I fancy."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Lucky for you that he was saved."
+
+"I owe my life twice to him and once to you."
+
+"I hope you think it's something to be grateful for," said Percival,
+carelessly. "You've had some escapes to tell your friends about when you
+get home."
+
+Mackay turned aside his head. "I have no friends to tell," he said,
+shortly.
+
+"Ah! more's the pity. Well, no doubt you will make some in
+Pernambuco--when you get there."
+
+"Do you think we ever shall get there?"
+
+Percival shot a rather displeased glance at him. "Don't go talking like
+that before the men," he said.
+
+"I am not talking before the men," rejoined the steerage passenger, with
+a smile: "I am talking to you, Mr. Heron. And I repeat my question--Do
+you think we shall ever get to Pernambuco?"
+
+"Yes," said Percival, stoutly. "A ship will see our signal and call for
+us."
+
+"It's a very small flag," said Mackay, in a significant tone.
+
+"Good Heavens!" burst out Percival, with the first departure from his
+good-humoured tone that Mackay had heard from him: "why do you take the
+trouble to put that side of the question to me? Don't you think I see it
+for myself? There is a chance, if it is only a small one; and I'm not
+going to give up hope--yet."
+
+Then he walked away, as if he refused to discuss the subject any longer.
+Mackay looked at the sea and sighed; he was sorry that he had provoked
+Mr. Heron's wrath by his question. But he found afterwards that it
+contributed to form a kind of silent understanding between him and
+Percival. It was a sort of relief to both of them, occasionally to
+exchange short, sharp sentences of doubt or discouragement, which
+neither of them breathed in the ear of the others. Percival divined
+quickly enough, that the steerage passenger was not a man of Thomas
+Jackson's class. As the hoarseness left his voice, and the disfiguring
+redness disappeared from his face, Percival distinguished signs of
+refinement and culture which he wondered at himself for not perceiving
+earlier. But there was nothing remarkable in his having made a mistake
+about Mackay's station in life. The man had come on board the _Arizona_
+in a state of wretched suffering: his face had been scorched, his hair
+and beard singed, his clothes, as well as his person, blackened by dust
+and smoke. Then his clothes were those of a working-man, and his speech
+had been rendered harsh to the ear from the hoarseness of his voice. But
+he gradually regained his strength as he lay in the fresh air and the
+sunshine, and returning health gave back to him the quiet energy and
+cheerfulness to which Jackson had borne testimony. He was a great
+favourite with the men, who, in their rough way, made a sort of pet of
+him, and brought him offerings of the daintiest food that they could
+find. And his hands were not idle. He wove baskets and plaited hats of
+cocoa-nut fibre with his long white fingers, which were very unlike
+those of the working-man that he professed to be. Percival Heron was
+often struck by the appearance of that hand. It was one of unusual
+beauty--the sort of hand that Titian or Vandyke loved to draw: long,
+finely-shaped, full of quiet power, and fuller, perhaps, of a subtle
+sort of refinement, which seems to express itself in the form of
+tapering fingers with filbert nails and a well-turned wrist. It was not
+the hand of a working-man, not even of a skilled artizan, whose hand is
+often delicately sensitive: it was a gentleman's hand, and as such it
+piqued Percival's curiosity. But Mackay was of a reserved disposition,
+and did not offer any information about himself.
+
+One day when rain was falling in sheets and torrents, as it did
+sometimes upon the Rocas Reef, Percival turned into the log hut for
+shelter. Mackay was there, too; his leg had been so painful that he had
+not left the rude bed, which his comrades had made for him, even to be
+carried out into the fresh air and sunshine, for two or three days.
+Percival noticed the look of pain in the languid eyes, and had, for a
+moment, a fancy that he had seen this man before. But the burns on his
+face, the handkerchief tied round his head to conceal a wound on the
+temple, and the tangled brown beard and moustache, made it difficult to
+seize hold of a possible likeness.
+
+Percival threw himself on the ground with a half-sigh, and crossed his
+arms behind his head.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Mackay.
+
+Percival noticed that he never addressed him as "Sir" or "Mr. Heron,"
+unless the other men were present.
+
+"Jackson's ill," said Percival, curtly.
+
+Mackay started and turned on his elbow.
+
+"Ill?"
+
+"Fever, I'm afraid. Not bad; just a touch of it. He's in the other hut."
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said Mackay, lying down again.
+
+"So am I. He is the steadiest man among them. How the rain pours!
+Pollard is sitting with him."
+
+There was a little silence, after which Percival spoke again.
+
+"Are you keeping count of the days? How long is it since we landed?"
+
+"Sixteen days."
+
+"Is that all? I thought it had been longer."
+
+"You were anxious to get to your journey's end, I suppose," said the
+steerage passenger, after a little hesitation.
+
+"Aren't we all anxious? Do we want to stay here for ever?" And then
+there was another pause, which ended by Percival's saying, in a tone of
+subdued irritation: "There are few of our party that have the same
+reasons that I have for wishing myself on the way back to England."
+
+"You are not going to stay in South America, then?"
+
+"Not I. There is someone I want to find; that's all."
+
+"A man?"
+
+"Yes, a man. I thought that he had sailed in the _Falcon_; but I suppose
+I was mistaken."
+
+"And if you don't find him?"
+
+"I must hunt the world over until I do. I won't go back to England
+without him, if he's alive."
+
+"Friend or enemy?" said Mackay, fixing his eyes on Percival's face with
+a look of interest. At any other time Percival might have resented the
+question: here, in the log hut, with a tempest roaring and the rain
+streaming outside, and the great stormy sea as a barrier between the
+dwellers on the island and the rest of the civilised world, such
+questions and answers seemed natural enough.
+
+"Enemy," said Percival, sharply. It was evident that some hidden sense
+of wrong had sprung suddenly to the light, and perhaps amazed him by its
+strength, for he began immediately to explain away his answer. "Hum! not
+that exactly. But not a friend."
+
+"And you want to do him an injury!" said Mackay, with grave
+consideration.
+
+"No, I don't," said Percival, angrily, as if replying to a suggestion
+that had been made a thousand times before, and flinging out his arm
+with a reckless, agitated gesture. "I want to do him a service--confound
+him!"
+
+There was a silence. Percival lay with his outstretched hand clenched
+and his eyes fixed gloomily on the opposite wall: Mackay turned away his
+head. Presently, however, he spoke in a low but distinct tone.
+
+"What is the service you propose doing me, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"Doing you? Good Heavens! You! What do you mean?"
+
+"I suppose that my face is a good deal disfigured at present," said the
+steerage passenger, passing his hand lightly over his thick, brown
+beard; "but when it is better, you will probably recognise me easily
+enough. But, perhaps, I am mistaken. I thought for a moment that you
+were in search of a man called Stretton, who was formerly a tutor to
+your step-brothers."
+
+Percival was standing erect by this time in the middle of the floor. His
+hands were thrust into his pockets: his deep chest heaved: the bronzed
+pallor of his face had turned to a dusky red. He did not answer the
+words spoken to him; but after a few seconds of silence, in which the
+eyes of the two men met and told each other a good deal, he strode to
+the doorway, pushed aside the plank which served for a door, and went
+out into the storm. He did not feel the rain beating upon his head: he
+did not hear the thunder, nor see the forked lightning that played
+without intermission in the darkened sky; he was conscious only of the
+intolerable fact that he was shut up in a narrow corner of the earth, in
+daily, almost hourly, companionship with the one man for whom he felt
+something not unlike fierce hatred. And in spite of his resolution to
+act generously for Elizabeth's sake, the hatred flamed up again when he
+found himself so suddenly thrust, as it were, into Brian Luttrell's
+presence.
+
+When he had walked for some time and got thoroughly wet through, it
+occurred to him that he was acting more like a child than a grown man;
+and he turned his face as impetuously towards the huts as he had lately
+turned his back upon them. He found plenty to do when the rain ceased.
+The fire had for the first time gone out, and the patience of Jackson
+could not now be taxed, because he was lying on his back in the stupor
+of fever. Percival set one of the men to work with two sticks; but the
+wood was nearly all damp, and it was a weary business, even when two dry
+morsels were found, to get them to light. However, it was better than
+having nothing to do. Want of employment was one of their chief trials.
+The men could not always be catching fish and snaring birds. They were
+thinking of building a small boat; but Jackson's illness deprived them
+of the help of one who had more practical knowledge of such matters than
+any of the others, and threw a damp over their spirits as well.
+
+Jackson's illness seemed to give Percival a pretext for absenting
+himself from the hut in which the so-called Mackay lay. He had, just at
+first, an invincible repugnance to meeting him again; he could not make
+up his mind how Brian Luttrell would expect to be treated, and he was
+almost morbidly sensitive about the mistake that he had made respecting
+"the steerage passenger." At night he stayed with Jackson, and sent the
+other men to sleep in Mackay's hut. But in the morning an absolute
+necessity arose for him to speak to his enemy.
+
+Jackson was sensible, though extremely weak, when the daylight came: and
+his first remark was an anxious one concerning the state of his
+comrade's broken leg. "Will you look after it a bit, sir?" he said,
+wistfully, to Heron.
+
+"I'll do my best. Don't bother yourself," said Percival, cheerfully. And
+accordingly he presented himself at an early hour in the other
+sleeping-place, and addressed Brian in a very matter of fact tone.
+
+"Your leg must be seen to this morning. I shall make a poor substitute
+for Jackson, I'm afraid; but I think I shall do it better than Pollard
+or Fenwick."
+
+"I've no doubt of that," said the man with the brown beard and bright,
+quick eyes. "Thank you."
+
+And that was all that passed between them.
+
+It was wonderful to see the determined, unsparing way in which Percival
+worked that day. His energy never flagged. He was a little less
+good-tempered than usual; the upright black line in his forehead was
+very marked, and his utterances were not always amiable. But he
+succeeded in his object; he made himself so thoroughly tired that he
+slept as soon as his head touched his hard pillow, and did not wake
+until the sun was high in the heaven. The men showed a good deal of
+consideration for him. Fenwick watched by the sick man, and Pollard and
+Barry bestirred themselves to get ready the morning meal, and to attend
+to the wants of their two helpless companions.
+
+It was not until evening that Brian found an opportunity to say to
+Percival:--
+
+"What did you want to find me for?"
+
+"Can't you let the matter rest until we are off this ---- island?" said
+Percival, losing control of that hidden fierceness for a moment.
+
+And Brian answered rather coldly:--"As you please."
+
+Percival waited awhile, and then said, more deliberately:--
+
+"I'll tell you before long. There is no hurry, you see"--with a sort of
+grim humour--"there is no post to catch, no homeward-bound mail steamer
+in the harbour. We cannot give each other the slip now."
+
+"Do you mean that I gave you the slip?" said Brian, to whom Percival's
+tone was charged with offence.
+
+"I mean that Brian Luttrell would not have been allowed to leave England
+quite so easily as Mr. Stretton was. But I won't discuss it just now.
+You'll excuse my observing that I think I would drop the 'Mackay' if I
+were you. It will hurt nobody here if you are called Luttrell; and--I
+hate disguises."
+
+"The name Luttrell is as much a disguise as any other," said Brian,
+shortly. "But you may use it if you choose."
+
+He was hardly prepared, however, for the round eyes with which the lad
+Barry regarded him when he next entered the log hut, nor for the awkward
+way in which he gave a bashful smile and pulled the front lock of his
+hair when Brian spoke to him.
+
+"What are you doing that for?" he said, quickly.
+
+"Well, sir, it's Mr. Heron's orders," said Barry.
+
+"What orders?"
+
+"That we're to remember you're a gentleman, sir. Gone steerage in a bit
+of a freak; but now you've told him you'd prefer to be called by your
+proper name. Mr. Luttrell, that is."
+
+"I'm no more a gentleman than you are," said Brian, abruptly. "Call me
+Mackay at once as you used to do."
+
+Barry shook his head with a knowing look. "Daren't sir. Mr. Heron is a
+gentleman that will have his own way. And he said you had a big estate
+in Scotland, sir; and lots of money."
+
+"What other tales did he tell you?" said Brian, throwing back his head
+restlessly.
+
+"Well, I don't know, sir. Only he told us that we'd better nurse you up
+as well as we could before we left the island, and that there was one at
+home as would give money to see you alive and well. A lady, I think he
+meant."
+
+"What insane folly!" muttered Brian to himself. "Look here, Barry," he
+added aloud, "Mr. Heron was making jokes at your expense and mine. He
+meant nothing of the kind; I haven't a penny in the world, and I'm on
+the way to the Brazils to earn my living as a working-man. Now do you
+understand?"
+
+Barry retired, silenced but unconvinced. And the next time that Brian
+saw Percival alone, he said to him drily:--
+
+"I would rather make my own romances about my future life, if it's all
+the same to you."
+
+"Eh? What? What do you mean?"
+
+"Don't tell these poor fellows that I have property in Scotland, please.
+It is not the case."
+
+"Oh, that's what you're making a fuss about. But I can't help it," said
+Percival, shrugging his shoulders. "If you are Brian Luttrell, as Vasari
+swears you are--swearing it to his own detriment, too, which inclines me
+to believe that it is true--the Strathleckie estate is yours."
+
+"You can't prove that I am Brian Luttrell."
+
+"But I might prove--when we get back to Scotland--that you bore the name
+of Brian Luttrell for three or four-and-twenty years of your life."
+
+"I am not going back to Scotland," said the young man, looking steadily
+and attentively at Percival's troubled countenance.
+
+"Yes, you are. I promised that you should come back, and you must not
+make me break my word."
+
+"Whom did you promise?"
+
+"I promised Elizabeth."
+
+And then the two men felt that the conversation had better cease.
+Percival walked rapidly away, while Brian, who could not walk anywhere,
+lay flat on his back and listened, with dreamy eyes, to the long
+monotonous rise and fall of the waves upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
+
+
+"Pollard's down with this fever," was the announcement which Percival
+made to Brian a few days later.
+
+"Badly?"
+
+"A smart touch. And Jackson doesn't mend as he ought to do. I can't
+understand why either of them should have it at all. The island may be
+barren, but it ought to be healthy."
+
+"I wish I could do anything beside lying here like a log."
+
+"Well, you can't," said Percival, by no means unkindly. "I never heard
+that it was any good to stand on a broken leg. I'll manage."
+
+Such interchange of semi-confidential sentences was now rare between
+them. Percival was, for the most part, very silent when circumstances
+threw him into personal contact with Brian; and there was something
+repellant about this silence--something which prevented Brian from
+trying to break it. Brian was feeling bitterly that he had done Percival
+some wrong: he knew that he might justly be blamed for returning to
+Scotland after his supposed death. He need not have practised any
+deception at all, but, having practised it, he ought to have maintained
+it. He had no right to let the estates pass to Elizabeth unless he meant
+her to keep them. Such, he imagined, might well be Percival's attitude
+of mind towards him.
+
+And then there was the question of his love for Elizabeth, of which both
+Elizabeth herself and Dino Vasari had made Heron aware. But in this
+there was nothing to be ashamed of. When he fell in love with Elizabeth,
+he thought her comparatively poor and friendless, and he did not know of
+her engagement to Percival. He never whispered to himself that he had
+won her heart: that fact, which Elizabeth fancied that she had made
+shamefully manifest, had not been grasped by Brian's consciousness at
+all. He would have thought himself a coxcomb to imagine that she cared
+for him more than as a friend. If he had ever dreamt of such a thing, he
+assured himself that he had made a foolish mistake.
+
+He thought that he understood what Percival wanted to say to him. Of
+course, since Dino had disclosed the truth, Elizabeth Murray desired to
+give up the property, and her lover had volunteered to come in search of
+the missing man. It was a generous act, and one that Brian thoroughly
+admired: it was worthy, he thought, of Elizabeth's lover. For he knew
+that he had always been especially obnoxious to Percival Heron in his
+capacity as tutor; and now, if he were to assume the character of a
+claimant to Elizabeth's estates, he would certainly not find the road to
+Percival's liking. For his own part, Brian respected and liked Percival
+Heron much more than he had found it possible to do during those flying
+visits to Italy, when he had systematically made himself disagreeable to
+the unknown Mr. Stretton. He admired the way in which Percival assumed
+the leadership of the party, and bore the burden of all their
+difficulties on his own broad shoulders: he admired his cheerfulness and
+untiring energy. He was sure that if Heron could succeed in carrying him
+off to England, and forcing him to make Elizabeth a poor woman instead
+of a rich one, he would be only too pleased to do so. But this was a
+thing which Brian did not mean to allow.
+
+Jackson's illness was a protracted one, and left him in a weak state,
+from which he had not recovered when Pollard died. Then the boy Barry
+fell ill--out of sheer fright, Percival declared; but his attack was a
+very slight one, prolonged from want of energy rather than real
+indisposition. Heron was the only nurse, for Fenwick's strength had to
+be utilised in procuring food for the party; and, as he was often up all
+night and busy all day long, it was no surprise to Brian when at last he
+staggered, rather than walked into the hut, and threw himself down on
+the ground, declaring himself so tired that he could not keep awake. And
+he had scarcely said the words when slumber overpowered him.
+
+Brian, who was beginning to move about a very little, crawled to the
+door and managed to attract Fenwick's attention. The man--a rough,
+black-bearded sailor--came up to him with a less surly look than usual.
+
+"How's Barry?" said Brian.
+
+"Better. He's all right. They've both got round the corner now, though I
+think the master thought yesterday that Barry would follow Pollard. It
+was faint-heartedness as killed Pollard, and it's faint-heartedness
+that'll kill Barry, if he don't look out."
+
+"See here," said Brian, indicating the sleeper with his finger. "You
+don't think Mr. Heron has got the fever, do you?"
+
+Fenwick took a step forward and looked stolidly at Percival's face,
+which was very pale.
+
+"Not he. Dead-beat, sir; that's all. He's done his work like a man, and
+earned a sleep. He'll be right when he wakes."
+
+Armed with this assurance, Brian resumed his occupation of weaving
+cocoa-nut fibre; but he grew uneasy, when, at the end of a couple of
+hours, Percival's face began to flush and his limbs to toss restlessly
+upon the ground. He muttered incoherent words from time to time, and at
+last awoke and asked for water. Brian's walking was a matter of
+difficulty; he took some minutes in crossing the room to bring a
+cocoa-nut, which had been made into a cup, to Percival's side; and by
+the time he had done it, Heron was wide awake.
+
+"What on earth are you doing, bringing me water in this way? You ought
+to be lying down, and I ought to go to Barry. If I were not so sleepy!"
+
+"Go to sleep," said Brian. "Barry's all right. I asked Fenwick just
+now."
+
+"I suppose I've gone and caught it," said Percival, in a decidedly
+annoyed tone of voice. "A nice state of things if I were to be laid up!
+I won't be laid up either. It's to a great extent a matter of will; look
+at Barry--and Pollard." His voice sank a little at the latter name.
+
+"You're only tired: you will be all right presently."
+
+"You don't think I'm going to have the fever, then?"
+
+"No," said Brian, wondering a little at his anxiety.
+
+There was a long pause: then Heron spoke again.
+
+"Luttrell." It was the first time that he had addressed Brian by his
+name. "If I have the fever and go off my head as the others have all
+done, will you remember--it's just a fancy of mine--that I--I don't
+exactly want you to hear what I say! Leave me in this hut, or move me
+into the other one, will you?"
+
+"I'll do as you wish," said Brian, seriously, "but I needn't tell you
+that I should attach no importance to what you said. And I should be
+pleased to do anything that I was able to do for you, if you were ill."
+
+"Well," said Percival, "I may not be ill after all. But I thought I
+would mention it. And, Luttrell, supposing I were to follow Pollard's
+example--"
+
+"What is the good of talking in that way when you are not even ill?"
+
+"Never mind that. If you get off this island and I don't, I want you to
+promise me to go and see Elizabeth." Then, as Brian hesitated, "You must
+go. You must see her and talk to her; do you hear? Good Heavens! How can
+you hesitate? Do you mean to let her think for ever that I have betrayed
+her trust?"
+
+Decidedly the fever was already working in his veins. The flushed face,
+the unnaturally brilliant eyes, the excitement of his manner, all
+testified to its presence. Brian felt compelled to answer quietly,
+
+"I promise."
+
+"All right," said Percival, lying down again and closing his eyes. "And
+now you can tell Fenwick that he's got another patient. It's the fever;
+I know the signs."
+
+And he was right. But the fever took a different course with him from
+that which it had taken with the others: he was never delirious at all,
+but lay in a death-like stupor from which it seemed that he might not
+awake. Once--some days after the beginning of his illness--he came to
+himself for a few minutes with unexpected suddenness. It was midnight,
+and there was no light in the hut beyond that which came from the
+brilliant radiance of the moon as it shone in at the open door. Percival
+opened his eyes and made a sound, to which Brian answered immediately by
+giving him something to drink.
+
+"You've broken your promise," said Percival, in a whisper, keeping his
+eyes fixed suspiciously on Brian's face.
+
+"No. You have never been delirious, so I never needed to leave you."
+
+"A quibble," murmured Heron, with the faintest possible smile.
+"However--I'm not sorry to have you here. You'll stay now, even if I
+talk nonsense?"
+
+"Of course I will." Brian was glad of the request.
+
+In another moment the patient had relapsed into insensibility; but,
+curiously enough, after this, conversation, Percival's mind began to
+wander, and he "talked nonsense" as persistently as the others had done.
+Brian could not see why he had at first told him to keep away. He was
+quite prepared for some revelation of strong feeling against himself,
+but none ever came. Elizabeth's name occurred very frequently; but for
+the most, part, it was connected with reminiscences of the past of which
+Brian knew nothing. Early meetings, walks about London, boy and girl
+quarrels were talked of, but about recent events he was silent.
+
+Brian wondered whether he himself and Fenwick would also succumb to the
+malarious influences of the place; but these two escaped. Fenwick was
+never ill; and Brian grew stronger every day. When Percival opened his
+eyes once more upon him, after three weeks of illness, he said,
+abruptly:--
+
+"Ah, if you had looked like that when you came on board the _Arizona_, I
+should never have been deceived."
+
+Brian smiled, and made no answer. Percival watched him hobbling about
+the room for some minutes, and then said:--
+
+"How long have we been on the island?"
+
+"Forty-seven days."
+
+"And not a sail in sight the whole time?"
+
+"Two, but they did not come near enough to see our signals--or passed
+them by."
+
+"My God!" said Percival, faintly. "Will it never end?" And then he
+turned away his face.
+
+After a little silence he asked, uneasily:--
+
+"Did I say much when I was ill?"
+
+"Nothing of any consequence."
+
+"But about you," said Percival, turning his hollow eyes on Brian with
+painful earnestness, "did I talk about you? Did I say----"
+
+"You never mentioned my name so far as I know. So make your mind easy on
+that score. Now, don't talk any more: you are not fit for it. You must
+eat, and drink, and sleep, so as to be ready when that dilatory ship
+comes to take us off."
+
+Percival did his duty in these respects. He was a more docile patient
+than Brian had expected to find him. But he did not seem to recover his
+buoyant spirits with his strength. He had long fits of melancholy
+brooding, in which the habitual line between his brows became more
+marked than ever. But it was not until two or three weeks more of their
+strangely monotonous existence had passed by, that Brian Luttrell got
+any clue to the kind of burden that was weighing upon Heron's mind.
+
+The day had been fiercely hot, but the night was cool, and Brian had
+half-closed the door through which the sea-breeze was blowing, and the
+light of the stars shone down. He and Percival continued to share this
+hut (the other being tenanted by the three seamen), and Brian was
+sitting on the ground, stirring up a compound of cocoa-nut milk, eggs
+and brandy, with which he meant to provide Percival for supper. Percival
+lay, as usual, on his couch, watching his movements by the starlight.
+When the draught had been swallowed, Heron said:--
+
+"Don't go to sleep yet. I wish you would sit down here. I want to say
+something."
+
+Brian complied, and Percival went on in his usual abrupt fashion.
+
+"You know I rather thought I should not get better."
+
+"I know."
+
+"It might have been more convenient if I had not. Did you never feel
+so?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"If I had been buried on the Rocas Reef," said Percival, with biting
+emphasis, "you would have kept your promise, gone back to England,
+and--married Elizabeth."
+
+"I never considered that possibility," answered Brian, with perfect
+quietness and some coldness.
+
+"Then you're a better fellow than I am. Look here," said Percival, with
+vehemence, "in your place I could not have nursed a man through an
+illness as you have done. The temptation would have been too strong: I
+should have killed him."
+
+"I am sure you would have done nothing of the kind, Heron. You are
+incapable of treachery."
+
+"You won't say so when you know all that I am going to tell you. Prepare
+your mind for deeds of villainy," said Percival, rallying his forces and
+trying to laugh; "for I am going to shock your virtuous ear. It's been
+on my mind ever since I was taken ill; and I was so afraid that I should
+let it out when I was light-headed, that, as you know, I asked you not
+to stay with me."
+
+"Don't tell me now: I'll take it on trust. Any time will do," said
+Brian, shrinking a little from the allusion to his own story that he
+knew would follow.
+
+"No time like the present," responded Heron, obstinately. "I've been a
+pig-headed brute; that's the chief thing. Now, don't interrupt,
+Luttrell. Miss Murray, you know, was engaged to me when you first saw
+her."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't know it!" said Brian, with vehemence almost equal to
+Percival's own.
+
+"Of course you didn't. I understand all that. It was the most natural
+thing in the world for you to admire her."
+
+"Admire her!" repeated Brian, in an enigmatic tone.
+
+"Let the word stand for something stronger if you don't like it. Perhaps
+you do not know that your friend, Dino Vasari, the man who claimed to be
+Brian Luttrell, betrayed your secrets to me. It was he who told me your
+name, and your love for Miss Murray. She had mentioned that to me, too;
+or rather I made her tell me."
+
+"Dino confessed that he had been to you," said Brian, who was sitting
+with his hand arched over his eyes. "He had some wild idea of making a
+sort of compromise about the property, to which I was to be a party."
+
+"Did he tell you the terms of the compromise?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I won't--just now. I'll tell you what I did, Luttrell, and you may
+call me a cad for it, if you like: I refused to do anything towards
+bringing about this compromise, and, although I knew when you were to
+sail, I did not try to detain you! You should have heard the blowing-up
+I had afterwards from old Colquhoun for not dropping a word to him!"
+
+"I am very glad you did not. He could not have hindered me."
+
+"Yes, he could. Or I could. Some of us would have hindered you, you may
+depend on it. And, if I had said that word, don't you see, you would
+never have set foot in the _Falcon_ nor I in the _Arizona_, and we
+should both have been safe at home, instead of disporting ourselves,
+like Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, on a desert island."
+
+"It's too late to think of that now," said Brian, rather sadly.
+
+"Too late! that's the worst of it. You've the right to reproach me. Of
+course, I know I was to blame."
+
+"No, I don't see that. I don't reproach you in the least. You knew so
+little, that it must have seemed unnecessary to make a fuss about what
+you had heard."
+
+"I heard quite enough," said Percival, with a short laugh. "I knew what
+I ought to do--and I didn't do it. That's the long and the short of it.
+If I had spoken, you would not be here. That makes the sting of it to me
+now."
+
+"Don't think of that. I don't mind. You made up for all by coming after
+me."
+
+"I think," said Percival, emphatically, "that if a word could have
+killed you when I first knew who you were, you wouldn't have had much
+chance of life, Luttrell. I was worse than that afterwards. If ever I
+had the temptation to take a man's life----"
+
+"Keep all that to yourself," said Brian, in a quick, resolute tone.
+"There is no use in telling it to me. You conquered the temptation, if
+there was one; that I know; and if there was anything else, forget it,
+as I shall forget what you have told me. I have something to ask your
+pardon for, besides."
+
+Percival's chest heaved; the emotion of the moment found vent in one
+audible sob. He stretched out his hand, which Brian clasped in silence.
+For a few minutes neither of them spoke.
+
+"It was chiefly to prove to myself that I was not such a black sheep as
+some persons declared me to be, that I made up my mind to follow you and
+bring you back," said Percival, with his old liveliness of tone. "You
+see I had been more selfish than anybody knew. Shall I tell you how?"
+
+"If you like."
+
+"You say you don't know what Dino Vasari suggested. That subtle young
+man made a very bold proposition. He said he would give up his claim to
+the property if I would relinquish my claim to Miss Murray's hand. The
+property and the hand thus set at liberty were both to be bestowed upon
+you, Mr. Brian Luttrell. Dino Vasari was then to retire to his
+monastery, and I to mine--that is, to my bachelor's diggings and my
+club--after annihilating time and space 'to make two lovers happy.'"
+
+"Don't jest on that subject," said Brian in a low, pained tone. "What a
+wild idea! Poor Dino!"
+
+"Poor me, I think, since I was to be in every sense the loser. I am
+sorry to say I didn't treat your friend with civility, Luttrell. After
+your departure, however, he went himself to Netherglen, and there, it
+seems, he put the finishing stroke to any claim that he might have on
+the property." And then Percival proceeded to relate, as far as he knew
+it, the story of Dino's visit to Mrs. Luttrell, its effect on Mrs.
+Luttrell's health, and the urgent necessity that there was for Brian to
+return and arrange matters with Elizabeth. Brian tried to evade the last
+point, but Percival insisted on it so strongly that he was obliged to
+give him a decisive answer.
+
+"No," he said, at last. "I'm sorry to make it seem as if your voyage had
+been in vain; but, if we ever get off the Rocas Reef, I shall go on to
+the Brazils. There is not the least reason for me to go home. I could
+not possibly touch a penny of the Luttrells' money after what has
+happened. Miss Murray must keep it."
+
+"But, you see, there will be legal forms to go through, even if she does
+keep it, for which your presence will be required."
+
+"You don't mean that, Heron; you know I can do all that in writing."
+
+"You won't get Miss Murray to touch a farthing of it either."
+
+"You must persuade her," said Brian, calmly. "I think you will
+understand my feeling, when I say that I would rather she had it--she
+and you--than anybody in the world."
+
+"You must come back. I promised to bring you back," returned Percival,
+with some agitation of manner. "I said that I would not go back without
+you."
+
+"I will write to Mr. Colquhoun and explain."
+
+"Confound it! What Colquhoun thinks does not signify. It is Elizabeth
+whom I promised."
+
+"Well," said Brian slowly, and with some difficulty, "I think I can
+explain it to her, too, if you will let me write to her."
+
+Percival suppressed a groan.
+
+"Why should I go back?" asked Luttrell. "I see no reason."
+
+"And I wish you did not drive me to tell you the reason," said Percival,
+in crabbed, reluctant tones. "But it must come, sooner or later. If you
+won't go for any other reason, will you go when I tell you that
+Elizabeth Murray cares for you as she never cared for me, and never will
+care for any other man in the world? That was why I came to fetch you
+back; and, if you don't find it a reason for going back and marrying
+her, why--you deserve to stop on the Rocas Reef for the remainder of
+your natural life!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+KITTY.
+
+
+Winter had come to our cold northern isles. The snow lay thick upon the
+ground, but a sharp frost had made it hard and crisp. It sparkled in a
+flood of brilliant sunshine; the air was fresh and exhilarating, the sky
+transparently blue. It was a pleasant day for walking, and one that Miss
+Kitty Heron seemed thoroughly to enjoy, as she trod the white carpet
+with which nature had provided the world.
+
+She carried a little basket on her arm: a basket filled with good things
+for some children in a cottage not far from Strathleckie. The good
+things were of Elizabeth's providing; but Kitty acted as her almoner.
+Kitty was a very charming almoner, with her slight, graceful little
+figure and _mignonne_ face set off by a great deal of brown fur and a
+dress of deep Indian red. The sharpness in the air brought a faint
+colour to her cheeks--Kitty was generally rather pale--and a new
+brightness to her pretty eyes. There was something delightfully
+bewitching about her: something provoking and coquettish: something of
+which Hugo Luttrell was pleasantly conscious as he came down the road to
+meet her and then walked for a little way at her side.
+
+They did not say very much. There were a few ardent speeches from him, a
+vehement sort of love-making, which Kitty parried with a good deal of
+laughing adroitness, some saucy speeches from her which all the world
+might have heard, and then the cottage was reached.
+
+"Let me go in with you," said Hugo.
+
+"Certainly not. You would frighten the children."
+
+"Am I so very terrible? Not to you; don't say that I frighten you."
+
+"I should think not," said Kitty, with a little toss sideways of her
+dainty head. "I am frightened of nothing."
+
+"I should think not. I should think that you were the bravest of women,
+as you are the most charming."
+
+"Oh, please! I am not accustomed to these compliments. I must take my
+cakes to the children. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye," said Hugo, taking her hand, and keeping it in his own while
+he spoke. "I may wait for you here and go back with you to Strathleckie,
+may I not?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no," said Kitty. "You'll catch cold."
+
+Then she looked down at her imprisoned hand, and up into his face,
+sweetly smiling all the time, and, if they had not been within sight of
+the cottage windows, Hugo would have taken her in his arms and kissed
+her there and then.
+
+"I never catch cold. I shall walk about here till you come back. You
+don't dislike my company, I hope?"
+
+It was said vehemently, with a sudden kindling of his dark eyes.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Kitty, feeling rather frightened, in spite of her
+previous professions of courage, though she did not quite know why. "I
+shall be very pleased. I must go now." And then she vanished hastily
+into the cottage.
+
+Hugo waited for some time, little guessing the fact that she was
+protracting her visit as much as possible, and furtively peeping through
+the blinds now and then in order to see if he were gone. Kitty had had
+some experience of his present mood, and was not certain that she liked
+it. But his patience was greater than hers. She was forced to come out
+at last, and before she had gone two steps he was at her side.
+
+"I thought you were never going to leave that wretched hole," he said.
+
+"Don't call it a wretched hole. It is very clean and nice. I often think
+that I should like to live in a cottage like that."
+
+"With someone who loved you," said Hugo, coming nearer, and gazing into
+her face.
+
+Kitty made a little _moue_.
+
+"The cottage would only hold one person comfortably," she said.
+
+"Then you shall not live in a cottage. You shall live in a far
+pleasanter place. What should you say to a little villa on the shores of
+the Mediterranean, with orange groves behind it, and the beautiful blue
+sea before? Should you like that, Kitty? You have only to say the word,
+and you know that it will be yours."
+
+"Then I won't say the word," said Kitty, turning away her head. "I like
+Scotland better than the Mediterranean."
+
+"Then let it be Scotland. What should you say to Netherglen?"
+
+"I prefer Strathleckie," replied the girl, with her most provoking
+smile.
+
+"That is no answer. You must give me an answer some day," said Hugo,
+whose voice was beginning to tremble. "You know what I mean: you
+know----"
+
+"Oh, what a lovely bit of bramble in the hedge!" cried Kitty, making
+believe that she had not been listening. "Look, it has still a leaf or
+two, and the stem is frosted all over and the veins traced in silver! Do
+get it for me: I must take it home."
+
+Hugo did her bidding rather unwillingly; but his sombre eyes were
+lighted with a reluctant smile, or a sort of glow that did duty for a
+smile, as she thanked him.
+
+"It is beautiful: it is like a piece of fairies' embroidery; far more
+beautiful than jewels would be. Oh, I wonder how people can make such a
+fuss about jewels, when they are so much less beautiful than these
+simple, natural things."
+
+"These will soon melt away; jewels won't melt," said Hugo. "I should
+like to see you with jewels on your neck and arms--you ought to be
+covered with diamonds."
+
+"That is not complimentary," laughed Kitty, "it sounds as if you thought
+they would make me better-looking. Now, you should compliment a person
+on what she is, and not on what she might be."
+
+"I have got beyond the complimentary stage," said Hugo. "What is the use
+of telling you that you are the most beautiful girl I ever met, or the
+most charming, or anything of that kind? The only thing I know"--and he
+lowered his voice almost to a whisper, and spoke with a fierce intensity
+that made Kitty shrink away from him--"the only thing I know is that you
+are the one woman in the world for me, and that I would sooner see you
+dead at my feet than married to another man!"
+
+Kitty had turned pale: how was she to reply? She cast her eyes up and
+down the road in search of some suggestion. Oh, joy and relief! she saw
+a figure in the distance. Perhaps it was somebody from Strathleckie;
+they were not far from the lodge now. She spoke with renewed courage,
+but she did not know exactly what she said.
+
+"Who is this coming down the road? He is going up to Strathleckie, I
+believe; he seems to be pausing at the gates. Oh, I hope it is a
+visitor. I do like having the house full; and we have been so melancholy
+since Percival went on that horrid expedition to Brazil. Who can it be?"
+
+"What does it matter?" said Hugo. "Can you not listen to me for one
+moment? Kitty--darling--wait!"
+
+"I can't; I really can't!" said Kitty, quickening her pace
+almost to a run. "Oh, Hugo--Mr. Luttrell--you must not say such
+things--besides--look, it's Mr. Vivian; it really is! I haven't seen him
+for two years."
+
+And she actually ran away from him, coming face to face with her old
+friend, at the Strathleckie gates.
+
+Hugo followed sullenly. He did not like to be repulsed in that way. And
+he had reasons for wishing to gain Kitty's consent to a speedy marriage.
+He wanted to leave the country before the return of Percival Heron,
+whose errand to South America he guessed pretty accurately, although Mr.
+Colquhoun had thought fit to leave him in the dark about it. Hugo
+surmised, moreover, that Dino had told Brian Luttrell the history of
+Hugo's conduct to him in London: if so, Brian Luttrell was the last man
+whom Hugo desired to meet. And if Brian returned to England with
+Percival, the story would probably become known to the Herons; and then
+how could he hope to marry Kitty? With Brian's return, too, some
+alteration in Mrs. Luttrell's will might possibly be expected. The old
+lady's health had lately shown signs of improvement: if she were to
+recover sufficiently to indicate her wishes to her son, Hugo might find
+himself deprived of all chance of Netherglen. For these reasons he was
+disposed to press for a speedy conclusion to the matter.
+
+He came up to the gates, and found Kitty engaged in an animated
+conversation with Mr. Vivian; her cheeks were carnation, and her eyes
+brilliant. She was laughing with rather forced vivacity as he
+approached. In his opinion she had seldom appeared to more advantage;
+while to Rupert's eyes she seemed to have altered for the worse.
+Dangerously, insidiously pretty, she was, indeed; but a vain little
+thing, no doubt; a finished coquette by the way she talked and lifted
+her eyes to Hugo's handsome face; possibly even a trifle fast and
+vulgar. Not the simple child of sixteen whom he had last seen in
+Gower-street.
+
+"Won't you come in, Hugo? I am sure everybody would be pleased to see
+you," said poor Kitty, unconscious of being judged, as she tried to
+propitiate Hugo by a pleading look. She did not like him to go away with
+such a cross look upon his face--that was all. But as she did not say
+that she would be pleased to see him, Hugo only sulked the more.
+
+"How cross he looks! I am rather glad he is not coming in," said Kitty,
+confidentially, as Hugo walked away, and she escorted Rupert up the long
+and winding drive. "And where did you come from? I did not know that you
+were near us."
+
+"I have been staying at Lord Cecil's, thirty miles from Dunmuir. I
+thought that I should like to call, as you were still in this
+neighbourhood. I wrote to Mrs. Heron about it. I hope she received my
+note?"
+
+"I see you don't know the family news," said Kitty, with a beaming
+smile. "I have a new stepsister, just three weeks old, and Isabel is
+already far too much occupied with the higher education of women to
+attend to such trifles as notes. She generally hands them over to
+Elizabeth or papa. Then, you know, papa broke one of his ribs and his
+collar-bone a fortnight ago, and I expect that this accident will keep
+us at Strathleckie for another month or two."
+
+"That accounts for you being here so late in the year."
+
+"Or so early! This is January, not December. But I think we may stay
+until the spring. It is not worth while to take a London house now."
+
+Kitty spoke so dolefully that Rupert was obliged to smile. "You are
+sorry for that?" he said.
+
+"Yes. We are all rather dull; we want something to enliven us. I hope
+you will enliven us, Mr. Vivian."
+
+"I am afraid I can hardly hope to do so," said Rupert, coldly. "Of
+course, you have not the occupation that you used to have when you were
+in London."
+
+"When I went to school! No, I should think not," said Kitty, with her
+giddiest laugh. "I have locked up my lesson books and thrown away the
+key. So you must not lecture me on my studies as you used to do, Mr.
+Vivian."
+
+"I should not presume to do so," he said, with rather unnecessary
+stiffness.
+
+"But you used to do it! Have you forgotten?" asked Kitty, peeping up at
+him archly from under her long, curling eyelashes. There was a momentary
+smile upon his lips, but it disappeared as he answered quietly:--
+
+"What was allowable when you were a child, would justly be resented by
+you now, Miss Heron."
+
+"I should not resent it; indeed I should not mind," said Kitty, eagerly.
+"I should like it: I always like being lectured, and told what I ought
+to do. I should be glad if you would scold me again about my reading; I
+have nobody to tell me anything now."
+
+"I could not possibly take the responsibility," said Rupert. "If you
+have thrown away the key of your book-box, Miss Heron, I don't think
+that you will be anxious to find it again."
+
+"Oh, but the lock could be picked!" cried Kitty, and then repented her
+words, for Rupert's impassive face showed no interest beyond that
+required by politeness. The tears were very near her eyes, but she got
+rid of them somehow, and plunged into a neat and frosty style of
+conversation which she heartily detested. "This is Strathleckie; you
+have never seen it before, I think? It is on the Leckie property, but it
+is not an old place like Netherglen. I think it was built in 1840."
+
+"Not a very good style of architecture," said Rupert, scanning it with
+an attentive eye.
+
+"A good style of architecture, indeed!" commented Kitty to herself, as
+she ran away to her own room, after committing Mr. Vivian to the care of
+her step-mother, who was lying on a sofa in the drawing-room, quite
+ready to unfold her views about the higher education of girls. "What a
+piece of ice he is! He used not to be so frigid. I wonder if we offended
+him in any way before we left London. He has never been nice since then.
+Nice? He is simply hateful!" and Kitty stamped on the floor of her
+bed-room with alarming vehemence, but the crystal drops that had been so
+long repressed were trembling on her eyelashes, and giving to her face
+the grieved look of a child.
+
+Meanwhile Vivian was thinking:--"What a pity she is so spoilt! A
+coquettish, hare-brained flirt: that is all that she is now, and she
+promised to be a sweet little woman two years ago! What business had she
+to be out walking with Hugo Luttrell? I should have heard of it if they
+were going to be married. I suppose she has had nobody to look after
+her. And yet Miss Murray always struck me as a sensible, staid kind of
+girl. Why can she not keep her cousin in order?" And then Rupert was
+conscious of a certain sense of impatience for Kitty's return, much as
+he disapproved of her alluring ways.
+
+He was prevailed on to stay the night, and his visit was prolonged day
+after day, until it was accepted as a settled thing that he would remain
+for some time--perhaps even until Percival came home. It had been
+calculated that Percival might easily be home in February.
+
+He could not easily maintain the coldness and reserve with which he had
+begun to treat Kitty Heron. There was something so winning and so
+childlike about her at times, that he dropped unconsciously into the old
+familiar tone. Then he would try to draw back, and would succeed,
+perhaps, in saying something positively rude or unkind, which would
+bring the tears to her eyes, and the flush of vexation to her face. At
+least, if it was not really unkind it sounded so to Kitty, and that came
+to the same thing. And when she was vexed, he was illogical enough to
+feel uncomfortable.
+
+But Kitty's crowning offence was her behaviour at a dinner-party, on the
+occasion of the christening of Mrs. Heron's little girl. Hugo Luttrell
+and the two young Grants from Dunmuir were amongst the guests; and with
+them Kitty amused herself. She did not mean any harm, poor child; she
+chattered gaily and looked up into their faces, with a gleeful
+consciousness that Rupert was watching her, and that she could show him
+now that some people admired her if he did not. Archie Grant certainly
+admired her prodigiously; he haunted her steps all through the evening,
+hung over the piano when she sang a gay little French _chanson_; turned
+over a portfolio of Mr. Heron's sketches with her in a corner. On the
+other hand, Hugo, who took her in to dinner, whispered things to her
+that made her start and blush. Vivian would have liked very much to know
+what he said. He did not approve of that darkly handsome face, with the
+haggard, evil-looking eyes, being thrust so close to Kitty's soft cheeks
+and pretty flower-decked head. He was glad to think that he had
+prevailed on Angela to leave Netherglen. He was not fond of Hugo
+Luttrell.
+
+He was stiffer and graver than usual that evening; not even the
+appearance of the newly-christened Dorothy Elizabeth, in a very long
+white robe, won a smile from him. He never approached Kitty--never said
+a word to her--until he was obliged to say good-night. And then she
+looked up to him with her dancing eyes and pretty smile, and said:--
+
+"You never came near me all the evening, and you had promised to sing a
+duet with me."
+
+"Is the little coquette trying her wiles on me!" thought Rupert,
+sternly; but aloud he answered, with grave indifference,
+
+"You were better employed. You had your own friends."
+
+"And are you not a friend?" cried Kitty, biting her lip.
+
+"I am not your contemporary. I cannot enter into competition with these
+younger men," he answered, quietly.
+
+Kitty quitted him in a rage. Elizabeth encountered her as she ran
+upstairs, her cheeks crimson, her lips quivering, her eyes filled with
+tears.
+
+"My dear Kitty, what is the matter?" she said, laying a gently detaining
+hand on the girl's arm.
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all," declared Kitty; but she suffered herself to
+be drawn into Elizabeth's room, and there, sinking into a low seat by
+the fire, she detailed her wrongs. "He hates me; I know he does, and I
+hate him! He thinks me a horrid, frivolous girl; and so I am! But he
+needn't tell me that he does not want to be a friend of mine!"
+
+"Well, perhaps, you are rather too old to take him for a friend in the
+way you used to do," said Elizabeth, smiling a little. "You were a child
+then; and you are eighteen now, you know, Kitty. He treats you as a
+woman: that is all. It is a compliment."
+
+"Then I don't like his compliments: I hate them!" Kitty asseverated. "I
+would rather he let me alone."
+
+"Don't think about him, dear. If he does not want to be friendly with
+you, don't try to be friendly with him."
+
+"I won't," said Kitty, in the tone of one who has taken a solemn
+resolution. Then she rose, and surveyed herself critically in
+Elizabeth's long mirror. "I am sure I looked very nice," she said. "This
+pink dress suits me to perfection and the lace is lovely. And then the
+silver ornaments! I'm glad I did not wear anything that he gave me, at
+any rate. I nearly put on the necklace he sent me when I was seventeen;
+I'm glad I did not."
+
+"Dearest Kitty, why should you mind what he thinks?" said Elizabeth,
+coming to her side, and looking at the exquisitely-pretty little figure
+reflected in the glass, a figure to which her own, draped in black lace,
+formed a striking contrast. But she was almost sorry that she had said
+the words, for Kitty immediately threw herself on her cousin's shoulder
+and burst into tears. The fit of crying did not last long, and Kitty was
+unfeignedly ashamed of it: she dried her tears with a very
+useless-looking lace handkerchief, laughed at herself hysterically, and
+then ran away to her own room, leaving Elizabeth to wish that the sense
+and spirit that really existed underneath that butterfly-like exterior
+would show itself on the surface a little more distinctly.
+
+But the last thing she dreamed of was that Kitty, with all her little
+follies, would outrage Rupert's sense of the proprieties in the way she
+did in the course of the following morning.
+
+Rupert was standing alone in the drawing-room, looking out of a window
+which commanded an extensive view. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Heron had come
+downstairs. Kitty had breakfasted in her own room; Elizabeth was busy.
+Mr. Vivian was wondering whether it might not be as well to go back to
+London. It vexed him to see little Kitty Heron flirting with
+half-a-dozen men at once.
+
+A voice at the door caused him to turn round. Kitty was entering, and as
+her hands were full, she had some difficulty in turning the handle.
+Rupert moved forward to assist her, and uttered a courteous
+good-morning, but Kitty only looked at him with flushed cheeks and
+wide-open resentful eyes, and made no answer.
+
+She was wearing an embroidered apron over her dark morning frock, and
+this apron, gathered up by the corners in her hands, was full of various
+articles which Rupert could not see. He was thoroughly taken aback,
+therefore, when she poured its contents in an indiscriminate heap upon
+the sofa, and said, in a decided tone:--
+
+"There are all the things you ever gave me; and I would rather not keep
+them any longer. I take presents only from my friends."
+
+Foolish Kitty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+KITTY'S FRIENDS.
+
+
+"How have I had the misfortune to offend you?" said Rupert, in a voice
+from which he could not banish irony as completely as he would have
+liked to do.
+
+"You said so yourself," replied Kitty, facing him with the dignity of a
+small princess. "You said that you were not my friend now."
+
+"When did I make that statement?" said Rupert, lifting his eyebrows.
+
+"Last night. And I knew it. You are not kind as you used to be. It does
+not matter to me at all; only I felt that I did not like to keep these
+things--and I brought them back."
+
+"And what am I to do with them?" said Rupert, approaching the sofa and
+looking at the untidy little heap. He gave a subdued laugh, which
+offended Kitty dreadfully.
+
+"I don't see anything to laugh at," she said.
+
+"Neither do I." But the smile still trembled on his finely-cut mouth.
+"What did you mean me to do with these things?" he asked. "These are
+trifles: why don't you throw them into the fire if you don't value
+them?"
+
+"They are not all trifles; and I did value them before you came to see
+us this time," said Kitty, with a lugubriousness which ought to have
+convinced him of her sincerity. "There are some bangles, and a cup and
+saucer, and two books; and there is the chain that you sent me by Mr.
+Luttrell in the autumn."
+
+"Ah, that chain," said Vivian, and then he took it up and weighed it
+lightly in his hand. "I have never seen you wear it. I thought at first
+that you had got it on last night: but my eyes deceived me. My sight is
+not so good as it used to be. Really, Miss Heron, you make me ashamed of
+my trumpery gifts: pray take them away, and let me give you something
+prettier on your next birthday for old acquaintance sake."
+
+"No, indeed!" said Kitty.
+
+"And why not? Because I don't treat you precisely as I did when you were
+twelve? You really would not like it if I did. No, I shall be seriously
+offended if you do not take these things away and say no more about
+them. It would be perfectly impossible for me to take them back; and I
+think you will see--afterwards--that you should not have asked me to do
+so."
+
+The accents of that calmly inflexible voice were terrible to Kitty. He
+turned to the window and looked out, but, becoming impatient of the
+silence, walked back to her again, and saw that her face had grown
+white, and was quivering as if she had received a blow. Her eyes were
+fixed upon the sofa, and her fingers held the chain which he had quietly
+placed within them; but it was evident that she was doing battle with
+herself to prevent the tears from falling. Rupert felt some remorse: and
+then hardened himself by a remembrance of the glances that had been
+exchanged between her and Hugo in that very room the night before.
+
+"I am old enough to be your father, you know," he began, gravely. This
+statement was not quite true, but it was true enough for conversational
+purposes. "I have sent you presents on your birthday since you were a
+very little girl, and I hope I may always do so. There is no need for
+you to reject them, because I think it well to remember that you are not
+a child any longer, but a young lady who has 'come out,' and wears long
+frocks, and does her hair very elaborately," he said, casting a smiling
+glance at Kitty's carefully-frizzled head. "I certainly do not wish to
+cease to be friends with--all of you; and I hope you will not drive me
+away from a house where I have been accustomed to forget the cares of
+the world a little, and find pleasant companionship and relaxation."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vivian!" said Kitty, in a loud whisper. The suggestion that she
+had power to drive him away seemed almost impious. She felt completely
+crushed.
+
+"Don't think any more about it," said Rupert, kindly, if
+condescendingly. "I never wished to be less of a friend to you than I
+was when you lived in Gower-street; but you must remember that you are a
+great deal altered from the little girl that I used to know."
+
+Kitty could not speak; she stooped and began to gather the presents
+again into her apron. Vivian came and helped her. He could not forbear
+giving her hand a little kindly pat when he had finished, as if he had
+been dealing with a child. But the playful caress, if such it might be
+called, had no effect on Kitty's sore and angry feelings. She was
+terribly ashamed of herself now: she could hardly bear to remember his
+calmly superior tone, his words of advice, which seemed to place her on
+a so much lower footing than himself.
+
+But in a day or two this feeling wore off. He was so kindly and friendly
+in manner, that she was emboldened to laugh at the recollection of the
+tone in which he had alluded to her elaborately-dressed hair and long
+dresses, and to devise a way of surprising him. She came down one day to
+afternoon tea in an old school-girlish dress of blue serge, rather short
+about the ankles, a red and white pinafore, and a crimson sash. Her hair
+was loose about her neck, and had been combed over her forehead in the
+fashion in which she wore it in her childish days. Thus attired, she
+looked about fourteen years old, and the shy way in which she glanced at
+the company from under her eyelashes, added to the impression of extreme
+youth. To carry out the character, she held a battledore and shuttlecock
+in her hand.
+
+"Kitty, are you rehearsing for a fancy ball?" said Mrs. Heron.
+
+"No, Isabel. I only thought I would try to transform myself into a
+little girl again, and see what it felt like. Do I look very young
+indeed?"
+
+"You look about twelve. You absurd child!"
+
+"Is the battledore for effect, or are you going to play a game with it?"
+asked Rupert, who had been surveying her with cold criticism in his
+eyes.
+
+"For effect, of course. Don't you think it is a very successful
+attempt?" she said, looking up at him saucily.
+
+He made no answer. Elizabeth wanted the tea-kettle at that moment, and
+he moved to fetch it. Hugo Luttrell, however, who was paying a call at
+the house, was ready enough with a reply.
+
+"It could not be more successful," he said, looking at her admiringly.
+"I suppose"--in a lowered tone--"that you looked like this in the
+school-room. I am glad those days are over, at any rate."
+
+"I am not," said Kitty, helping herself to bread and butter. "I should
+like them all over again--lessons and all." She stole a glance at
+Rupert, but his still face betrayed no consciousness of her remark. "I
+am going to keep up my character. I am going to play at battledore and
+shuttlecock with the boys in the dining-room. Who will come, too? _Qui
+m'aime me suit._"
+
+"Then I will be the first to follow," said Hugo, in her ear.
+
+She pouted and drank her tea, glancing half-reluctantly toward Rupert.
+But he would not heed.
+
+"I will come, too," said Elizabeth, relieving the awkwardness of a
+rather long pause. "I always like to see you play. Kitty is as light as
+a bird," she added to Mr. Vivian, who bowed and looked profoundly
+uninterested.
+
+Nevertheless, in a few minutes he found the drawing-room so dull without
+the young people, that he, too, descended to see what was going on. He
+heard the sound of counting in breathless voices as he drew near the
+drawing-room. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, three hundred. One, two,
+three----"
+
+"Kitty and Mr. Luttrell have kept up to three hundred and three, Mr.
+Vivian!" cried one of the boys as he entered the room.
+
+Mr. Vivian joined the spectators. It was a pretty sight. Kitty, with her
+floating locks, flushed face, trim, light figure, and unerring accuracy
+of eye, was well measured against Hugo's lithe grace and dexterity. The
+two went on until eight hundred and twenty had been reached; then the
+shuttlecock fell to the ground. Kitty had glanced aside and missed her
+aim.
+
+"You must try, now, Mr. Vivian," she said, advancing towards him,
+battledore in hand, and smiling triumphantly in his face.
+
+"No, thank you," said Rupert, who had been shading his eyes with one
+hand, as if the light of the lamps had tried them: "I could not see."
+
+"Could you not? Oh, you are short-sighted, perhaps. Ah! there go Hugo
+and Johnny. This is better than being grown-up, I think. Am I like the
+little girl that you used to know in Gower-street now, Mr. Vivian?"
+
+It was perhaps her naming Hugo so familiarly that caused Rupert to
+reply, with a smile that was more cutting than reproof would have
+been:--
+
+"I prefer the little girl in Gower-street still."
+
+From the colour that instantly overspread her face and neck, he saw that
+she was hurt or offended--he did not know which. She left his side
+immediately, and plunged into the game with renewed ardour. She played
+until Hugo left the house about seven o'clock; and then she rushed up to
+her room and bolted herself in with unnecessary violence. She came down
+to dinner in a costume as different as possible from the one which she
+had worn in the afternoon. Her dress was of some shining white stuff,
+very long, very much trimmed, cut very low at the neck; her hair was
+once more touzled, curled and pinned, in its most elaborate fashion; and
+her gold necklet and bracelets were only fit for a dinner-party. It is
+to be feared that Rupert Vivian did not admire her taste in dress. If
+she had worn white cotton it would had pleased him better.
+
+There was a wall between them once more. She was more conscious of it
+than he was, but he did not perceive that something was wrong. He saw
+that she would not look at him, would not speak to him; he supposed that
+he had offended her. He himself was aware of an increasing feeling of
+dissatisfaction--whether with her, or with her circumstances, he could
+not define--and this feeling found expression in a sentence which he
+addressed to her two days after the game of battledore and shuttlecock.
+Hugo had been to the house again, and had been even less guarded than
+usual in his love-making. Kitty meant to put a stop to it sooner or
+later; but she did not quite know how to do it (not having had much
+experience in these matters, in spite of the coquettishness which Rupert
+attributed to her), and also she did not want to do it just at present,
+because of her instinctive knowledge of the fact that it annoyed Mr.
+Vivian. She was too much of a child to know that she was playing with
+edged tools.
+
+So she allowed Hugo a very long hand-clasp when he said good-bye, and
+held a whispered consultation with him at the door in a confidential
+manner, which put Rupert very much out of temper. Then she came back to
+the drawing-room fire, laughing a little, with an air of pretty triumph.
+Rupert was leaning against the mantelpiece; no one else was in the room.
+Kitty knelt down on the rug, and warmed her hands at the fire.
+
+"We have such a delightful secret, Hugo and I," she said, brightly. "You
+would never guess what it was. Shall I tell it to you?"
+
+"No," he answered, shortly.
+
+"No?" She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment, and then shrugged her
+shoulders. "You are not very polite to me, Mr. Vivian!" she said,
+half-playfully, half-pettishly.
+
+"I do not wish to share any secret that you and Mr. Hugo Luttrell may
+have between you," said Rupert, with emphasis.
+
+Kitty's face changed a little. "Don't you like him?" she said, in a
+rather timid voice.
+
+"Before I answer I should like to know whether you are engaged to marry
+him," said Mr. Vivian.
+
+"Certainly not. I never dreamt of such a thing. You ought not to ask
+such a question," said Kitty, turning scarlet.
+
+"I suppose I ought not. I beg your pardon. But I thought it was the
+case."
+
+"Why should you think so?" said Kitty, turning her face away from him.
+"You would have heard about it, you know--and besides--nobody ever
+thought of such a thing."
+
+"Excuse me: Mr. Luttrell seems to have thought of it," said Rupert, with
+rather an angry laugh.
+
+"What Mr. Luttrell thinks of is no business of yours," said Kitty.
+
+"You cannot deny it then!" exclaimed Vivian, with a mixture of
+bitterness and sarcastic triumph in his tone.
+
+She made no answer. He could not see her face, but the way in which she
+was twisting her fingers together spoke of some agitation. He tried to
+master himself; but he was under the empire of an emotion of which he
+himself had not exactly grasped the meaning nor estimated the power. He
+walked to the window and back again somewhat uncertainly; then paused at
+about two yards' distance from her kneeling figure, and addressed her in
+a voice which he kept carefully free from any trace of excitement.
+
+"I have no right to speak, I know," he said, "and, if I were not so much
+older than yourself, or if I had not promised to be your friend, Kitty,
+I would keep silence. I want you to be on your guard with that man. He
+is not the sort of man that you ought to encourage, or whom you would
+find any happiness in loving."
+
+"I thought it was not considered generous for one man to blacken
+another's character behind his back," said Kitty, quickly.
+
+"Well, you are right, it is not. If I had put myself into rivalry with
+Hugo Luttrell, of course, I should have to hold my tongue. But as I am
+only an outsider--an old friend who takes a kindly interest in the child
+that he has seen grow up--I think I am justified in saying, Kitty, that
+I do not consider young Luttrell worthy of you."
+
+The calm, unimpassioned tones produced their usual effect on poor Kitty.
+She felt thoroughly crushed. And yet there was a rising anger in her
+heart. What reason had Rupert Vivian to hold himself so far aloof from
+her? Was he not Percival's friend? Why should he look down from such
+heights of superiority upon Percival's sister?
+
+"I speak to you in this way," Rupert went on, with studied quietness,
+"because you have less of the guardianship usually given to girls of
+your age than most girls have. Mrs. Heron is, I know, exceedingly kind
+and amiable, but she has her own little ones to think of, and then she,
+too, is young. Miss Murray, although sensible and right-thinking in
+every way, is too near your own age to be a guide for you. Percival is
+away. Therefore, you must let me take an elder brother's place to you
+for once, and warn you when I see that you are in danger."
+
+Kitty had risen from her knees, and was now standing, with her face
+still averted, and her lips hidden by a feather fan which she had taken
+from the mantelpiece. There was a sharper ring in her voice as she
+replied.
+
+"You seem to think I need warning. You seem to think I cannot take care
+of myself. You have reminded me once or twice lately that I was a woman
+now and not a child. Pray, allow me the woman's privilege of choosing
+for myself."
+
+"I am sorry to have displeased you," said Vivian, gravely. "Am I to
+understand that my warning comes too late?"
+
+There was a moment's pause before she answered coldly:--
+
+"Quite too late."
+
+"Your choice has fallen upon Hugo Luttrell?"
+
+Kitty was stripping the feathers ruthlessly from her fan. She answered
+with an agitated little laugh:
+
+"That is not a fair question. You had better ask him."
+
+"I think I do not need," said Rupert. Then, in a low and rather ironical
+tone, he added, "Pray accept my congratulations." She bowed her head
+with a scornful smile, and let him leave the room without another word.
+What was the use of speaking? The severance was complete between them
+now.
+
+They had quarrelled before, but Kitty felt, bitterly enough, that now
+they were not quarrelling. She had built up a barrier between them which
+he was the last man to tear down. He would simply turn his back upon her
+now and go his own way. And she did not know how to call him back. She
+felt vaguely that her innocent little wiles were lost upon him. She
+might put on her prettiest dresses, and sing her sweetest songs, but
+they would never cause him to linger a moment longer by her side than
+was absolutely necessary. He had given her up.
+
+She felt, too, with a great swelling of heart, that her roused pride had
+made her imply what was not true. He would always think that she was
+engaged to Hugo Luttrell. She had, at least, made him understand that
+she was prepared to accept Hugo when he proposed to her. And all the
+world knew that Hugo meant to propose--Kitty herself knew it best of
+all.
+
+The day came on which Rupert was to return to London. Scarcely a word
+had been interchanged between him and Kitty since the conversation which
+has been recorded. She thought, as she stole furtive glances towards him
+from time to time, that he looked harassed, and even depressed, but in
+manner he was more cheerful than it was his custom to be. When the time
+came for saying good-bye, he held out his hand to her with a kindly
+smile.
+
+"Come, Kitty," he said, "let us be friends."
+
+Her heart gave a wild leap which seemed almost to suffocate her; she
+looked up into his face with changing colour and eager eyes.
+
+"I am sorry," she began, with a little gasp. "I did not mean all I said
+the other day, and I wanted to tell you----"
+
+To herself it seemed as if these words were a tremendous self-betrayal;
+to Vivian they were less than nothing--commonplace sentences enough;
+uttered in a frightened, childish tone.
+
+"Did you not mean it all?" he said, giving her hand a friendly pressure.
+"Well, never mind; neither did I. We are quits, are we not? I will not
+obtrude my advice upon you again, and you must forgive me for having
+already done so. Good-bye, my dear child; I trust you will be happy."
+
+"I shall never be happy," said Kitty, withdrawing her hand from his,
+"never, never, never!" And then she burst into tears and rushed out of
+the room.
+
+Vivian looked after her with a slightly puzzled expression, but did not
+attempt to call her back.
+
+It was not a very favourable day for Hugo's suit, and he was received
+that afternoon in anything but a sunshiny mood by Miss Heron. For almost
+the first time she snubbed him unmercifully, but he had been treated
+with so much graciousness on all previous occasions that the snubs did
+not produce very much impression upon him. And, finding himself alone
+with her for a few minutes, he was rash enough to make the venture upon
+which he had set his heart, without considering whether he had chosen
+the best moment for the experiment or not. Accordingly, he failed. A few
+brief words passed between them, but the few were sufficient to convince
+Hugo Luttrell that he had never won Kitty Heron's heart. To his infinite
+surprise and mortification, she refused his offer of marriage most
+decidedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+A FALSE ALARM.
+
+
+Angela's departure from Netherglen had already taken place. Hugo was not
+sorry that she was gone. Her gentle words and ways were a restraint upon
+him: he felt obliged to command himself in her presence. And
+self-command was becoming more and more a difficult task. What he wanted
+to say or to do presented itself to him with overmastering force: it
+seemed foolishly weak to give up, for the sake of a mere scruple of
+conscience, any design on which he had set his heart. And above all
+things in life he desired just now to win Kitty Heron for himself.
+
+"She has deceived me," he thought, as he sat alone on the evening of the
+day on which she had refused to marry him. "She made me believe that she
+cared for me, the little witch, and then she deliberately threw me over.
+I suppose she wants to marry Vivian. I'll stop that scheme. I'll tell
+her something about Vivian which she does not know."
+
+The fire before which he was sitting burnt up brightly, and threw a red
+glow on the dark panelling of the room, on the brocaded velvet of the
+old chair against which he leaned his handsome head, on the pale, but
+finely-chiselled, features of his face. The look of subtlety, of mingled
+passion and cruelty, was becoming engraved upon that face: in moments of
+repose its expression was evil and sinister--an expression which told
+its own tale of his life and thoughts. Once, in London, when he had
+incautiously given himself up in a public place to rejection upon his
+plans, an artist said to a friend as they passed him by: "That young
+fellow has got the very look I want for the fallen angel in my picture.
+There's a sort of malevolent beauty about his face which one doesn't
+often meet." Hugo heard the remark, and smoothed his brow, inwardly
+determining to control his facial muscles better. He did not wish to
+give people a bad impression of him. To look like a fallen angel was the
+last thing he desired. In society, therefore, he took pains to appear
+gentle and agreeable; but the hours of his solitude were stamping his
+face with ineradicable traces of the vicious habits, the thoughts of
+crime, the attempts to do evil, in which his life was passed.
+
+The ominous look was strongly marked on his face as he sat by the fire
+that evening. It was not the firelight only that gave a strange glow to
+his dark eyes--they were unnaturally luminous, as the eyes of madmen
+sometimes are, and full of a painful restlessness. The old, dreamy,
+sensuous languor was seldom seen in their shadowy depths.
+
+"I will win her in spite of herself," he went on, muttering the words
+half-aloud: "I will make her love me whether she will or no. She may
+fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before
+very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her
+brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February.
+Yes--before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife."
+
+He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.
+
+He did not sleep much that night. He had lately grown very wakeful, and
+on this night he did not go to bed at all. The servants heard him
+wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning, opening and
+shutting doors, pacing the long passages, stealing up and downstairs.
+One of the maids put her head out of her door, and reported that the
+house was all lit up as if for a dance--rooms and corridors were
+illuminated. It was one of Hugo's whims that he could not bear the dark.
+When he walked the house in this way he always lighted every lamp and
+candle that he could find. He fancied that strange faces looked at him
+in the dark.
+
+Confusion and distress reigned next day at Netherglen. Mr. Luttrell had
+taken upon himself to dismiss one or two of the servants, and this was
+resented as a liberty by the housekeeper, who had lived there long
+before he had made his appearance in Scotland at all. He had paid two of
+the maids a month's wages in advance, and told them to leave the house
+within four-and-twenty hours. The household had already been
+considerably reduced, and the indignant housekeeper immediately
+announced her intention of going to Mr. Colquhoun and inquiring whether
+young Mr. Luttrell had been legally empowered to manage his aunt's
+affairs. And seeing that this really was her intention, Hugo smiled and
+spoke her fair.
+
+"You're a little hard on me, Mrs. Shairp," he said, in dulcet tones. "I
+was going to speak to you privately about these arrangements. You, of
+course, ought never to go away from Netherglen, and, whoever goes, you
+shall not. You must be here to welcome Mr. Brian when he comes home
+again, and to give my wife a greeting when I bring her to
+Netherglen--which I hope I shall do very shortly."
+
+"An' wha's the leddy, Maister Hugo?" said the housekeeper, a little
+mollified by his words. "It'll be Miss Murray, maybe? The mistress liked
+the glint of her bonny een. 'Jean,' she said to me; the day Miss Murray
+cam' to pay her respects, 'Jean, yon lassie steps like a princess.'
+Ye'll be nae sae far wrang, Maister Hugo, if it's Miss Murray that ye
+mak' your bride."
+
+"It is not Miss Murray," said Hugo, carelessly; "it is her cousin, Miss
+Heron."
+
+Mrs. Shairp's eyebrows expressed astonishment and contempt, although her
+lips murmured only--"That wee bit lassie!" But she made no further
+objection to the plan which Hugo now suggested to her. He wanted her not
+to leave Mrs. Luttrell's service (or so he said), but to take a few
+weeks' holiday. She had a sister in Aberdeen--could she not pay this
+sister a visit? Mrs. Luttrell should have every care during the
+housekeeper's absence--two trained nurses were with her night and day;
+and a Miss Corcoran, a cousin of the Luttrell family, was shortly
+expected. Mr. Colquhoun had spoken to him about the necessity of
+economy, and for that reason he wished to reduce the number of servants
+as much as possible. He was going away to London, and there would be no
+need of more than one servant in the house. In fact, the gardener and
+his wife could do all that would be required.
+
+"Me leave my mistress to the care o' John Robertson and his wife!"
+ejaculated the housekeeper, indignantly.
+
+Whereupon Hugo had to convince her that Mrs. Luttrell was perfectly safe
+in the hands of the two nurses--at any rate for a week. During that
+week, one or two necessary alterations could be made in the house--there
+was a water-pipe and a drain that needed attention, in Hugo's
+opinion--and this could be done while the house was comparatively
+empty--"before Brian came home." With this formula he never failed to
+calm Mrs. Shairp's wrath and allay her rising fears.
+
+For she had fears. She did not know why Mr. Hugo seemed to want her out
+of the way. She fancied that he had secret plans which he could not
+carry out if the house were full of servants. She tried every possible
+pretext for staying at home, but she felt herself worsted at all points
+when it came to matters of argument. She did not like to appeal to Mr.
+Colquhoun. For she knew, as well as everybody in the county knew, that
+Mrs. Luttrell had made Hugo the heir to all she had to leave; and that
+before very long he would probably be the master of Netherglen. As a
+matter of fact, he was even now virtually the master, and she had gone
+beyond her duty, she thought, in trying to argue with him. She did not
+know what to do, and so she succumbed to his more persistent will. After
+all, she had no reason to fear that anything would go wrong. She said
+that she would go for a week or ten days, but not for a longer time.
+"Well, well," said Hugo, in a soothing tone, as if he were making a
+concession, "come back in a week, if you like, my good Mrs. Shairp. You
+will find the house very uncomfortable--that is all. I am going to turn
+painters and decorators loose in the upper rooms; the servants' quarters
+are in a most dilapidated condition."
+
+"If the penters are coming in, it's just the time that I sud be here,
+sir," said Mrs. Shairp, firmly, but respectfully. And Hugo smiled an
+assent.
+
+As a matter of fact he had got all he wanted. He wanted Mrs. Shairp out
+of the house for a week or ten days. For that space of time he wished to
+have Netherglen to himself. She announced, after some hesitation, that
+she would leave for Aberdeen on the twenty-eighth, and that she should
+stay a week, or at the most, a day or two longer. "She's safe for a
+fortnight," said Hugo to himself with a triumphant smile. He had other
+preparations to make, and he set to work to make them steadily.
+
+It was a remark made by Kitty herself at their last interview that had
+suggested to his mind the whole mad scheme to which he was devoting his
+mental powers. It all hinged upon the fact that Kitty was going to spend
+a week with some friends in Edinburgh--friends whom Hugo knew only by
+name. She went to them on the twenty-seventh. Mrs. Shairp left
+Netherglen the twenty-eighth. Two hours after Mrs. Shairp had started on
+her journey the two remaining servants were dismissed. The plumber, who
+had been severely inspected and cautioned as to his behaviour that
+morning by Mrs. Shairp, was sent about his business. One of the nurses
+was also discharged. The only persons left in the house beside Mrs.
+Luttrell, the solitary nurse, and Hugo himself, were two; a young
+kitchen-maid, generally supposed to be somewhat deficient in intellect,
+and a man named Stevens, whom Hugo had employed at various times in
+various capacities, and characterised (with rather an odd smile) as "a
+very useful fellow." The nurse who remained, protested vigorously
+against this state of affairs, but was assured by Hugo in the politest
+manner, that it would last only for a day or two, that he regretted it
+as much as she did, that he would telegraph to Edinburgh for another
+nurse immediately. What could the poor woman do? She was obliged to
+submit to circumstances. She could no more withstand Hugo's smiling,
+than she liked to refuse--in despite of all rules--the handsome gratuity
+that he slid into her hand.
+
+Meanwhile, Kitty was trying to forget her past sorrows in the society of
+some newly-made friends in Edinburgh. Here, if anywhere, she might
+forget that Rupert Vivian had despised her, and that Hugo Luttrell
+accused her of being a heartless coquette. She was not heartless--or, at
+least, not more so than girls of eighteen usually are--but, perhaps, she
+was a little bit of a coquette. Of course, she had acted foolishly with
+respect to Vivian and Hugo Luttrell. But her foolishness brought its own
+punishment.
+
+It was on the second day of her visit that a telegram was brought to
+her. She tore it open in some surprise, exclaiming:--
+
+"They must have had news of Percival!"
+
+Then she read the message and turned pale.
+
+"What is it?" said one of her friends, coming to her side.
+
+Kitty held out the paper for her to read.
+
+"Elizabeth Murray, Queen's Hotel, Muirside, to Miss Heron, Merchiston
+Terrace, Edinburgh. Your father has met with a serious accident, and is
+not able to move from Muirside. He wishes you to come by the next train,
+which leaves Edinburgh at four-thirty. You shall be met at the Muirside
+Station either by Hugo or myself."
+
+"There is time for me to catch the train, is there not?" said Kitty,
+jumping up, with her eyes full of tears.
+
+"Oh, yes, dear, yes, plenty of time. But who is to go with you?" said
+Mrs. Baxter, rather nervously. "I am so sorry John is not at home; but
+there is scarcely time to let him know."
+
+"I can go perfectly well by myself," said Kitty. "You must put me into
+the train at the station, Mrs. Baxter, under the care of the guard, if
+you like, and I shall be met at Muirside."
+
+"Where is Muirside?" asked Jessie Baxter, a girl of Kitty's age.
+
+"Five miles from Dunmuir. I suppose papa was sketching or something. Oh!
+I hope it is not a very bad accident!" said Kitty, turning great,
+tearful eyes first on Mrs. Baxter, and then on the girls. "What shall we
+do! I must go and get ready instantly."
+
+They followed her to her room, and anxiously assisted in the
+preparations for her journey, but even then Mrs. Baxter could not
+refrain from inquiring:--
+
+"Who is the person who is to meet you? 'Hugo'--do you know him?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he is Elizabeth's cousin, and Elizabeth is my cousin. We are
+connections you see. I know him very well," said Kitty, with a blush,
+which Mrs. Baxter remembered afterwards.
+
+"I would go with you myself," she said, "if it were not for the cold,
+but I am afraid I should be laid up with bronchitis if I went."
+
+"Let Janet go, mamma," cried one of the girls.
+
+"I don't want Janet, indeed, I don't want her," said Kitty, earnestly.
+"I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Baxter, but, indeed, I can manage quite
+well by myself. It is quite a short journey, only two-hours-and-a-half;
+and it would be a pity to take her, especially as she could not get back
+to-night."
+
+She carried her point, and was allowed to depart without an attendant.
+Mrs. Baxter went with her to the station, and put her under the care of
+the guard who promised to look after her.
+
+"You will write to us, Kitty, and tell us how Mr. Heron is," said Mrs.
+Baxter, before the train moved off.
+
+"Yes, I will telegraph," said Kitty, "as soon as I reach Muirside."
+
+"Do, dear. I hope you will find him better. Take care of yourself," and
+then the train moved out of the station, and Mrs. Baxter went home.
+
+Kitty's journey was a perfectly uneventful one, and would have been
+comfortable enough but for the circumstances under which she made it.
+The telegram lay upon her lap, and she read it over and over again with
+increasing alarm as she noticed its careful vagueness, which seemed to
+her the worst sign of all. She was heartily relieved when she found that
+she was nearing Muirside: the journey had never seemed so long to her
+before. It was, indeed, longer than usual, for the railway line was in
+some places partly blocked with snow, and eight o'clock was past before
+Kitty reached Muirside. She looked anxiously out of the window, and saw
+Hugo Luttrell on the platform before the train had stopped. He sprang up
+to the step, and looked at her for a moment without speaking. Kitty had
+time to think that the expression of his face was odd before he replied
+to her eager questions about her father.
+
+"Yes, he is a little better; he wants to see you," said Hugo at last.
+
+"But how has he hurt himself? Is he seriously ill? Oh, Hugo, do tell me
+everything. Anything is better than suspense."
+
+"There is no need for such great anxiety; he is a great deal better,
+quite out of danger," Hugo answered, with a rather strange smile. "I
+will tell you more as we go up to the house. Don't be afraid."
+
+And then the guard came up to assure himself of the young lady's safety,
+and to receive his tip. Hugo made it a large one. Kitty's luggage was
+already in the hands of a man whom she thought she recognised: she had
+seen him once or twice with Hugo, and once when she paid a state-call at
+Netherglen. Just as she was leaving the station, a thought occurred to
+her, and she turned back.
+
+"I said I would telegraph to Mrs. Baxter as soon as I reached Muirside.
+Is it too late?"
+
+"The office is shut, I think."
+
+"I am so sorry! She will be anxious."
+
+"Not if you telegraph first thing in the morning," said Hugo,
+soothingly. "Or--stay: I'll tell you what you can do. Come with me here,
+into the waiting-room--now you can write your message on a leaf of my
+pocket-book, and we will leave it with the station-master, to be sent
+off as soon as possible."
+
+"What shall I say?" said Kitty, sitting down at the painted deal table,
+which was sparsely adorned with a water-bottle and a tract, and chafing
+her little cold hands. "Do write it for me, Hugo, please. My fingers are
+quite numb."
+
+"Poor little fingers! You will be warmer soon," said Hugo, with more of
+his usual manner. "I will write in your name then. 'Arrived safely and
+found my father much better, but will write in a day or two and give
+particulars.' That does not tie you down, you see. You may be too busy
+to write to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you. It will do very nicely."
+
+She was left for a few minutes, whilst he went to the station-master
+with the message, and she took the opportunity of looking at herself in
+the glass above the mantelpiece, partly in order to see whether her
+bonnet was straight, partly in order to escape the stare of the
+waiting-room woman, who seemed to take a great deal of interest in her
+movements. Kitty was rather vexed when Hugo returned, to hear him say,
+in a very distinct tone:--
+
+"Come, dearest. We shall be late if we don't set off at once."
+
+"Hugo!" she ejaculated, as she met him at the door.
+
+"What is it, dear? What is wrong?"
+
+It seemed to her that he made his words still more purposely distinct.
+The woman in the waiting-room came to the door, and gazed after them as
+they moved away towards the carriage which stood in waiting. They made a
+handsome pair, and Hugo looked particularly lover-like as he gave the
+girl his arm and bent his head to listen to what she had to say. But
+Kitty's words were not loving; they were only indignant and distressed.
+
+"You should not speak to me in that way," she said.
+
+But Hugo laughed and pressed her arm as he helped her into the carriage.
+The man Stevens was already on the box. Hugo entered with her, closed
+the door and drew up the window. The carriage drove away into the
+darkness of an unlighted road, and disappeared from the sight of a knot
+of gazers collected round the station door.
+
+"It's like a wedding," said the woman of the waiting-room, as she turned
+back to the deal table with the water bottle and the tract. "Just like a
+wedding."
+
+Mrs. Baxter received her telegram next morning, and was comforted by it.
+She noticed that the message was dated from Muirside Station, and that
+she must, therefore, wait until Kitty sent the promised letter before
+she wrote to Kitty, as she did not know where Mr. Heron might be
+staying. But as the days passed on and nothing more was heard, she
+addressed a letter of inquiry to Kitty at Strathleckie. To her amaze it
+was sent back to Merchiston Terrace, as if the Herons thought that Kitty
+was still with her, and a batch of letters with the Dunmuir postmark
+began to accumulate on the Baxters' table. Finally there came a postcard
+from Elizabeth, which Mrs. Baxter took the liberty of reading.
+
+"Dear Kitty," it ran, "why do you not write to us? When are you coming
+back? We shall expect you on Saturday, if we hear nothing to the
+contrary from you. Uncle Alfred will meet you at Dunmuir."
+
+"There is something wrong here," gasped poor Mrs. Baxter.
+
+"What has become of that child if she is not with her friends? What does
+it mean?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+TRAPPED.
+
+
+No sooner had the carriage door closed, than Kitty began to question her
+companion about the accident to her father. Hugo replied with evident
+reluctance--a reluctance which only increased her alarm. She began, to
+shed tears at last, and implored him to tell her the whole story,
+repeating that "anything would be better than suspense."
+
+"I cannot say more than I have done," said Hugo, in a muffled voice.
+"You will know soon--and, besides, as I have told you, there is nothing
+for you to be alarmed at; indeed there is not. Do you think I would
+deceive you in that?"
+
+"I hope not," faltered Kitty. "You are very kind."
+
+"Don't call it kindness. You know that I would do anything for you."
+Then, noticing that the vehemence of his tone made her shrink away from
+him, he added more calmly, "you will soon understand why I am acting in
+this way. Wait for a little while and you will see."
+
+She was silent for a few minutes, and then said in a subdued tone:--
+
+"You frighten me, Hugo, by telling me that I shall know--soon; that I
+shall see--soon. What are you hiding from me? You make me fancy terrible
+things. My father is not--not-dying--dead? Hugo, tell me the truth."
+
+"I solemnly assure you, Kitty, that your father is not even in danger."
+
+"Then someone else is ill?"
+
+"No, indeed. Be patient for a little time, and you shall see them all."
+
+Kitty clasped her hands together with a sigh, and resigned herself to
+her position. She leaned back in the comfortably-cushioned seat for a
+time, and then roused herself to look out of the window. The night was a
+dark one: she could see little but vague forms of tall trees on either
+hand, but she felt by the motion of the carriage that they were going
+uphill.
+
+"We have not much further to go, have we?" she asked.
+
+"Some distance, I am sorry to say. Your father was removed to a
+farmhouse four miles from the station--the house nearest the scene of
+the accident."
+
+"Four miles!" faltered Kitty. "I thought that it was close to the
+station."
+
+"Is it disagreeable to you to drive so far with me?" said Hugo. "I will
+get out and sit on the box if you do not want me."
+
+"Oh, no, I should not like you to do that," said Kitty. But in her
+heart, she wished that she had brought Mrs. Baxter's Janet.
+
+Her next question showed some uneasiness, though of what kind Hugo could
+not exactly discover.
+
+"Whose brougham is this?"
+
+"Mrs. Luttrell's. I borrowed it for the occasion."
+
+"You are very good. I could easily have come in a fly."
+
+"Don't say you would rather have done so," said Hugo, allowing his voice
+to fall into a caressing murmur. But either Kitty did not hear, or was
+displeased by this recurrence to his old habit of saying lover-like
+things; for she gazed blankly out of the window, and made no reply.
+
+After an hour's drive, the carriage turned in at some white gates, and
+stopped in a paved courtyard surrounded by high walls. Kitty gazed round
+her, thinking that she had seen the place before, but she was not
+allowed to linger. Hugo hurried her through a door into a stone hall,
+and down some dark passages, cautioning her from time to time to make no
+noise. Once Kitty tried to draw back. "Where is Elizabeth?" she said.
+"Is not Isabel here? Why is everything so still?"
+
+Hugo pointed to the end of the corridor in which they stood. A nurse, in
+white cap and apron, was going from one room to another. She did not
+look round, but Kitty was reassured by her appearance. "Is papa there?"
+she said in a whisper. "Is this the farmhouse?"
+
+"Come this way," said Hugo, pointing with his finger to a narrow wooden
+staircase before them. Kitty obeyed him without a word. Her limbs
+trembled beneath her with fatigue, and cold, and fear. It seemed to her
+that Hugo was agitated, too. His face was averted, but his voice had an
+unnatural sound.
+
+They mounted two flights of stairs and came out upon a narrow landing,
+where there were three doors: one of them a thick baize door, the others
+narrow wooden ones. Hugo opened one of the wooden doors and showed a
+small sitting-room, where a meal was laid, and a fire spread a pleasant
+glow over the scene. The other door opened upon another narrow flight of
+stairs, leading, as Kitty afterwards ascertained, to a small bed-room.
+
+"Where is papa?" said Kitty, glancing hurriedly around her. "He cannot
+be on this floor surely? Please take me to him at once, Mr. Luttrell."
+
+"What have I done that I should be called Mr. Luttrell?" said Hugo, who
+was pulling off his fur gloves and standing with his back to the door.
+There was a look of triumph upon his face, which Kitty thought very
+insolent, and could not understand. "We are cousins after a fashion, are
+we not? You must eat and drink after your journey before you undergo any
+agitation. There is a room prepared for you upstairs, I believe. This
+meal seems to have been made ready for me as well as for you, however.
+Let me give you a glass of wine."
+
+He walked slowly towards the table as he spoke.
+
+"I do not want anything," said Kitty, impatiently. "I want to see my
+father. Where are the people of the house?"
+
+"The people of the house? You saw the nurse just now. I will go and
+ascertain, if you like, whether the patient can be seen or not."
+
+"Let me come with you."
+
+"I think not," said Hugo, slowly. "No, I will not trouble you to do
+that. I will be back in a moment or two. Excuse me."
+
+He made his exit very rapidly. From the sound that followed, it seemed
+that he had gone through the baize door. After a moment's hesitation
+Kitty followed and laid her hand on the brass handle. But she pushed in
+vain. There was no latch and no key to be seen, but the door resisted
+her efforts; and, as she stood hesitating, a man came up the narrow
+stair which she had mounted on her way from the courtyard, and forced
+her to retreat a step or two. He was carrying her box and hand-bag.
+
+"This door is difficult to open," said Kitty. "Will you please open it
+for me?"
+
+The man, Hugo's factotum, Stevens, gave her an odd glance as he set down
+his burden.
+
+"The door won't open from this side unless you have the key, miss," he
+said.
+
+"Not open from this side? Then I must have the key," said Kitty,
+decidedly.
+
+"Yes, miss." Steven's tone was perfectly respectful, and yet Kitty felt
+that he was laughing at her in his sleeve. "Mr. Luttrell, perhaps, can
+get you the key, miss."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Put the box down, please. No, it need not be
+uncorded until I know whether I shall stay the night."
+
+The man obeyed her somewhat imperiously-uttered commands with an air of
+careful submission. He then went down the dark stairs. Kitty heard his
+footsteps for some little distance. Then, came the sound of a closing
+door, and the click of a key in the lock. Then silence. Was she locked
+in? She wished that the baize door had not been closed, and she chid
+herself for nervousness. Hugo had shut it accidentally--it would be all
+right when he came back. Excited and fearful as she was, she chose to
+fortify herself against the unknown, by swallowing a biscuit and a
+draught of black coffee. When this was done she felt stronger in every
+way--morally as well as physically. She had been faint for want of food.
+
+Would Hugo never come back? He was absent a quarter-of-an-hour, she
+verified that fact by reference to a little enamelled watch which
+Elizabeth had given her on her last birthday. She had taken off her hat
+and cloak, and smoothed her rebellious locks into something like order
+before he returned.
+
+"Why have you been so long?" she said, rather plaintively, when the door
+moved at last. "And, oh, please, if I am to stop here at all, will you
+find out whether I can have the key of that door? The man who brought up
+my boxes says it will not open from this side, and I cannot bear to feel
+that I am shut in. May I go to papa, now?"
+
+"You do not like being a prisoner, do you?" said Hugo, totally ignoring,
+her last question. "So much the better for you--so much the better for
+me."
+
+Kitty recoiled a little. She did not know what had happened to him, but
+she saw that his face expressed some mood which she had never seen it
+express before. It was flushed, and his eyes glittered with an unnatural
+light. And surely there was a faint odour of brandy in the room which
+had not been there before his entrance! She recoiled from him, but she
+was brave enough to show no other sign of fear.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," she said, "but I know that I want to go to
+my father. Please put an end to this mystery and take me to him at
+once."
+
+"Yes, I will put an end to the mystery," said Hugo, drawing nearer to
+her, and putting out his hands as if he wished to take hers. "There is
+more of a mystery than you can guess, but there shall be one no longer.
+Ah, Kitty, won't you forgive me when I tell you what I have done? It was
+for your sake that I have sunk to these depths--or risen to these
+heights, I hardly know which to call them--for your sake, because I love
+you, love you as no other woman in the world, Kitty, was ever loved
+before!"
+
+He threw himself down on his knees before her, in passionate
+self-abasement, and lifted his ardent eyes pleadingly to her face.
+
+"Kitty, forgive me," he said. "Tell me that you forgive me before I tell
+you what I have done."
+
+Kitty had turned very pale. "What have you done?" she asked. "How can I
+forgive you if I do not know what to forgive? Pray get up, Hugo; I
+cannot bear to see you acting in this way."
+
+"How can I rise till I have confessed?" said Hugo, seizing one of her
+hands and pressing it to his lips. "Ah, Kitty, remember that it was all
+because I loved you! You will not be too hard upon me, darling? Tell me
+that you love me a little, and then I shall not despair."
+
+"But, I do not love you; I told you so before," said Kitty, trying hard
+to draw away her hand. "And it is wicked of you to say these things to
+me here and now. Where is my father? Take me to him at once."
+
+"Oh, my dearest, be kind and good to me," entreated Hugo. "Can you not
+guess?--then how can I tell you?--your father is well--as well as ever
+he was in his life."
+
+"Well?" cried Kitty. "Then was it a mistake? Was it some one else who
+was hurt? Who sent the telegram?"
+
+"I sent the telegram. I wanted you here."
+
+"Then it was a trick--a hoax--a lie? How dare you, sir! And why have you
+brought me here? What is this place?"
+
+"This place, Kitty, is Netherglen."
+
+"Netherglen!" said Kitty, in a relieved tone of voice. "Oh, it is not so
+very far from home."
+
+Then she turned sharply upon him with a flash in her eye that he had
+never seen before.
+
+"You must let me go home at once; and you will please understand, Mr.
+Luttrell, that I wish to have no further intercourse with you of any
+sort. After the cruel and unkind and useless trick that you have played
+upon me, you must see that you have put an end to all friendship between
+yourself and my family. My father will call you to account for it."
+
+Kitty spoke strongly and proudly. Her eyes met his undauntedly: her head
+was held high, her step was firm as she moved towards the door. If she
+trembled internally, she showed at least no sign of fear.
+
+"Ah, I knew that you would be angry at first," said Hugo; "but you will
+listen to me, and you will understand----"
+
+"I will not listen. I do not want to understand," cried Kitty, with a
+slight stamp of her little foot. "Angry at first! Do you think I shall
+ever forgive you? I shall never see you nor speak to you again. Let me
+pass."
+
+Hugo had still been kneeling, but he now rose to his feet and confronted
+her. The flush was dying out of his face, but his eyes retained their
+unnatural brightness still.
+
+"You cannot pass that door just yet," he said, with sudden, dangerous
+calmness. "You must wait until I let you go. You ask if I think you will
+ever forgive me? Yes, I do. You say you will never see me or speak to me
+again? I say that you will see me many times, and speak to me in a very
+different tone before you leave Netherglen."
+
+"Be kind enough to stand out of the way and open the door for me," said
+Kitty, with supreme contempt. "I do not want to hear any more of this
+nonsense."
+
+"Nonsense, do you call it? You will give it a very different name before
+long, my fair Kitty. Do you think I am in play? Do you think I should
+risk--what I have risked, if I meant to gain nothing by it? I am in
+sober, solemn earnest, and know very well what I am doing, and what I
+want to gain."
+
+"What can you gain," said Kitty, boldly facing him, "except disgrace and
+punishment? What do you think my father will say to you for bringing me
+away from Edinburgh on false pretences? What will you tell my brother
+when he comes home?"
+
+"As for your brother," said Hugo, with a sneer, "he is not very likely
+to come home again at all. His ship has been wrecked, and all lives
+lost. As for your father----"
+
+He was interrupted by a passionate cry from the girl's pale lips.
+
+"Wrecked! Percival's ship lost! Oh, it cannot be true!"
+
+"It is true enough--at least report says so. It may be a false report!"
+
+"It must be a false report! You would not have the heart to tell me the
+news so cruelly if it were true! But no, I forgot. You made me believe
+that my father was dying; you do not mind being cruel. Still, I don't
+believe you. I shall never again believe a word you say. Oh! Percival,
+Percival!" And then, to prove how little she believed him, Kitty burst
+into tears, and pressed her handkerchief to her face. Hugo stood and
+watched her earnestly, and she, on looking up, found his eyes fixed upon
+her. The gaze brought back all her ire. "Order the carriage for me at
+once, and let me go out of your sight," she said. "I cannot bear to look
+at you!"
+
+Kitty was not dignified in her wrath, but she was so pretty that Hugo's
+lips curled with a smile of enjoyment. At the same time he felt that he
+must bring her to a sense of her position. She had not as yet the least
+notion of what he meant to require of her. And it would be better that
+she should understand. He folded his arms and leant against the door as
+he spoke.
+
+"You are not going away just yet," he said. "I have got my pretty bird
+caged at last, and she may beat her wings against the bars as much as
+she pleases, but she will not leave her cage until she is a little tamer
+than she is now. When she can sing to the tune I will teach her, I will
+let her go."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Kitty. "Stand away from the door, Mr. Luttrell.
+I want to pass."
+
+"I will stand aside presently and let you go--as far as the doors will
+let you. But just now you must listen to me."
+
+"I will not listen. I will call the servants," she said, pulling a
+bell-handle which she had found beside the mantelpiece.
+
+"Ring as much as you please. Nobody will come. The bell-wire has been
+cut."
+
+"Then I will call. Somebody must hear."
+
+"My man, Stevens, may hear, perhaps. But he will not come unless I
+summon him."
+
+"But the other servants----"
+
+"There are no other servants in this part of the house. The kitchen-maid
+and the nurse sleep close to Mrs. Luttrell's room--so far away that not
+your loudest scream would reach their ears. You are in my power, Kitty.
+I could kill you if I liked, and nobody could interfere."
+
+What strange light was that within his eyes? Was it the light of madness
+or of love? For the first time Kitty was seized with positive fear of
+him. She listened, the colour dying out of her face, and her eyes slowly
+dilating with terror as she heard what he had to say.
+
+"I will tell you now what I have done," he said, "and then I will ask
+you, once more, to forgive me. It is your own fault if I love you madly,
+wildly, as I do. You led me on. You let me tell you that I loved you;
+you seemed to care for me too, sometimes. By the time that you had made
+up your mind, to throw me over, Kitty, my love had grown into a passion
+that must be satisfied. There are two ways in which, it can end, and two
+only. I might kill you--other men of my race have killed the women who
+trifled with them and deceived them. I could forgive you for what you
+have made me suffer, if I saw you lying dead at my feet, child; that is
+the first way. And the second--be mine--be my wife; that is the better
+way."
+
+"Never!" said Kitty, firmly, although her white lips quivered with an
+unspoken fear. "Kill me, if you like. I would rather be killed than be
+your wife now."
+
+"Ah, but I do not want to kill you!" cried Hugo, his dark face lighting
+up with a sudden glow, which made it hatefully brilliant and beautiful,
+even in Kitty's frightened eyes. He left the door and came towards her,
+holding out his hands and gesticulating as he spoke. "I want you to be
+my wife, my own sweet flower, my exquisite bird, for whom no cage can be
+half too fine! I want you to be mine; my own darling----. I would give
+Heaven and earth for that; I have already risked all that makes life
+worth living. Men love selfishly; but you shall be loved as no other
+woman was ever loved. You shall be my queen, my angel, my wife!"
+
+"I will die first," said Kitty. Before he could interpose, she snatched
+a knife from the table, and held it with the point turned towards him.
+"Come a step nearer," she cried, "and I shall know how to defend
+myself."
+
+Hugo stopped short. "You little fool!" he said, angrily. "Put the knife
+down."
+
+She thought that he was afraid; and, still holding her weapon, she made
+a rush for the door; but Hugo caught her skilfully by the wrists,
+disarmed her, and threw the knife to the other end of the room. Then he
+made her sit down in an arm-chair near the fire, and without relaxing
+his hold upon her arm, addressed her in cool but forcible tones.
+
+"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You need not be so frightened or
+so foolish. I won't come near you, unless you give me leave. I am going
+to have your full and free consent, my little lady, before I make you my
+wife. But, this I want you to understand. I have you here--a prisoner;
+and a prisoner you will remain until you do consent. Nobody knows where
+you are--nobody will look for you here. You cannot escape; and if you
+could escape, nobody would believe your story. Do you hear?"
+
+He took away his hand from her arm. But she did not try to move. She was
+trembling from head to foot. He looked at her silently for a little
+time, and then withdrew to the door.
+
+"I will leave you now until to-morrow," he said, quietly. "There is a
+girl--a kitchen-maid--who will bring you your breakfast in the morning.
+You have this little wing of the house entirely to yourself, but I don't
+think that you will find any means of getting out of it. Good-night, my
+darling. You will forgive me yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+HUGO'S VICTORY.
+
+
+Kitty remained for some time in the state in which Hugo left her. She
+was only faintly conscious of his departure. The shutting of the baize
+door, and of another door beyond it, scarcely penetrated to her brain.
+She fancied that Hugo was still standing over her with a wild light in
+his eyes and the sinister smile upon his lips; and she dared not look up
+to see if the fancy were true. A sick, faint feeling came over her, and
+made her all the more disinclined to move.
+
+The fire, which had been burning hollow and red, fell in at last with a
+great crash; and the noise startled her into full consciousness. She sat
+erect in her chair, and looked about her fearfully. No, Hugo was not
+there. He had left the door of the room a little way open. With a
+shuddering desire to protect herself, she staggered to the door, closed
+it, looked for a key or a bolt, and found none; then sank down again
+upon a chair, and tried seriously to consider the position in which she
+found herself.
+
+There was not much comfort to be gained out of the reflections which
+occurred to her. If she was as much in Hugo's power as he represented
+her to be, she was in evil case, indeed. She thought over the
+arrangements which he seemed to have planned so carefully, and she saw
+that they were all devised so as to make it appear that she had been in
+the secret, that she had met him and gone away with him willingly. And
+her disappearance might not be made known for days. Mrs. Baxter would
+suppose that she was with her relations; her relations would think that
+she was still in Edinburgh. Inquiries might be made in the course of
+three or four days; but even if they were made so soon, they would
+probably be fruitless. The woman at the waiting-room, whose stare Kitty
+had resented, would perhaps give evidence that the gentleman had called
+her his "dearest," and taken her away with him in his carriage. She
+thought it all too likely that Hugo had planned matters so as to make
+everybody, believe that she had eloped with him of her own free-will.
+
+If escape were only possible! Surely there was some window, some door,
+by which she could leave the house! She would not mind a little danger.
+Better a broken bone or two than the fate which would await her as
+Hugo's wife--or as Hugo's prisoner. She turned to the window with a
+resolute step, drew aside the curtains, unbarred the shutters, and
+looked out.
+
+Disappointment awaited her. There was a long space of wall, and then the
+pointed roofs of some outhouses, which hid the courtyard and the road
+entirely from her sight. Beyond the roofs she could see the tops of
+trees, which, it was plain, would entirely conceal any view of her
+window from passers-by. It would be quite impossible to climb down to
+those sharp-gabled roofs; and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, the
+window was protected by strong iron bars, between which nobody could
+have squeezed more than an arm or foot. Moreover, the sash was nailed
+down. Kitty dropped the curtain with a despairing sigh.
+
+After a little hesitation, she took a candle and opened the sitting-room
+door. All was dark in the passage outside; but from the top of the
+flight of stairs leading to a higher storey, she could distinguish a
+glimmer of light which seemed to come from a window in the roof. She
+went up the stairs and found two tiny rooms; one a lumber-room, the
+other a bed-room. These were just underneath the roof, and had tiny
+triangular windows, which were decidedly too small to allow of anyone's
+escaping through them. Kitty peered through them both, and got a good
+view of the loch, glimmering whitely in the starlight between its black,
+wooded shores. She retraced her steps, and explored an empty room on the
+floor with her sitting-room, the window of which was also barred and
+nailed down. Then she went down the lower flight of steps until she came
+to a closed door, which had been securely fastened from the outside by
+the man who brought up her box. She shook it and beat it with her little
+fists; but all in vain. Nobody seemed to hear her knocks; or, if heard,
+they were disregarded. She tried the baize door with like ill-success.
+Hugo had said the truth; she was a prisoner.
+
+At last, tired and disheartened, she crept back to her sitting-room. The
+fire was nearly out, and the night was a cold one. She muffled herself
+in her cloak and crouched down upon the sofa, crying bitterly. She
+thought herself too nervous, too excited, to sleep at all; and she
+certainly did not sleep for two or three hours. But exhaustion came at
+last, and, although she still started at the slightest sound, she fell
+into a doze, and thence into a tolerably sound slumber, which lasted
+until daylight looked in at the unshuttered window, and the baize door
+moved upon its hinges to admit the girl who was to act as Miss Heron's
+maid.
+
+The very sight of a girl--a woman like herself--brought hope to Kitty's
+mind. She started up, pressing her hands to her brow and pushing back
+the disordered hair. Then she addressed the girl with eager, persuasive
+words. But the kitchen-maid only shook her head. "Dinna ye ken that I'm
+stane-deef?" she said, pointing to her ears with a grin. For a moment
+Kitty in despair desisted from her efforts. Then she thought of another
+argument. She produced her purse, and showed the girl some sovereigns,
+then led her to the door, intimating by signs that she would give her
+the money if she would but open it. The girl seemed to understand, but
+laughed again and shook her head. "Na, na," she said. "I daurna lat ye
+oot sae lang's the maister's here." Hugo's coadjutors were apparently
+incorruptible.
+
+The kitchen-maid proved herself equal to all the work required of her.
+She relighted the fire, cleared away the uneaten supper, and brought
+breakfast and hot water. Kitty discovered that everything she required
+was handed to the girl through a sliding panel in the door at the bottom
+of the stairs. There was no chance of escape through any chance opening
+of the door.
+
+She had no appetite, but she knew that she ought to eat in order to keep
+up her strength and courage. She therefore drank some coffee, and ate
+the scones which the maid brought her. The girl then took away the
+breakfast-things, put fresh fuel on the fire, and departed by the lower
+door. Kitty would have kept her if she could. Even a deaf kitchen-maid
+was better than no company at all.
+
+The view from the windows was no more encouraging by day than night.
+There seemed to be no way of communicating with the outer world. A
+letter flung from either storey would only reach the slanting roofs
+below, and lie on the slates until destroyed by snow and rain. Kitty
+doubted whether her voice would reach the courtyard, even if she raised
+it to its highest pitch. She tried it from the attic window, but it
+seemed to die away in the heights, and she could hardly hope that it had
+been heard by anyone either inside or outside the house.
+
+She was left alone for some time. About noon, as she was standing by her
+window, straining her eyes to discover some trace of a human being in
+the distance, whose attention she perhaps might catch if one could only
+be seen, she heard the door open and close again. She knew the footstep:
+it was neither that of the deaf girl nor of the man Stevens. It was Hugo
+Luttrell coming once more to plead his cause or lay his commands upon
+her.
+
+She turned round unwillingly and glanced at him with a faint hope that
+the night might have brought him to some change of purpose. But although
+the excitement of the previous evening had disappeared, there was no
+sign of relenting in his face. He came up to her and tried to take her
+hand.
+
+"_Nuit porte conseil_," he began. "Have you thought better of last
+night's diversions? Have you arrived at any decision yet?"
+
+"Oh, Hugo," she burst out, clasping her hands, "don't speak to me in
+that sneering, terrible way. Have a little pity upon me. Let me go
+home!"
+
+"You shall go home to-morrow, if you will go as my wife, Kitty."
+
+"But you know that can never be," she expostulated. "How can you expect
+me to be your wife after all that you have made me suffer? Do you think
+I could ever love you as a wife should do? You would be miserable; and
+I--I--should break my heart." She burst into tears as she concluded, and
+wrung her hands together.
+
+"Why did you make me suffer if you want me to pity you now?" said Hugo,
+in a low, merciless tone. "You used me shamefully: you know you did. I
+swore then to have my revenge; and I have it now. For every one of the
+tears you shed now, I have shed drops of my heart's blood. It is nothing
+to me if you suffer: your pain is nothing to what mine was when you cast
+me off like an old glove because your fancy had settled on Rupert
+Vivian. You shall feel your master now: you shall be mine and mine only;
+not his, nor any other's. I will have my revenge."
+
+"My fancy had settled on Rupert Vivian!" repeated Kitty, with a sudden
+rush of colour to her face. "Ah, how little you know about it! Rupert
+Vivian is far above me: he does not care for me. You have no business to
+speak of him."
+
+"He does not care for you, but you are in love with him," said Hugo,
+looking at her from between his narrowed eyelids with a long penetrating
+gaze. "I understand."
+
+Kitty shrank away from him. "No, no!" she cried. "I am not in love with
+anyone."
+
+"I know better," said Hugo. "I have seen it a long time: seen it in a
+thousand ways. You made no secret of it, you know. You threw yourself in
+his way: you did all that you could to attract him; but you failed. He
+had to tell you to be more careful, had he not?"
+
+"How dare you! How dare you!" cried the girl, starting up with her face
+aflame. "Never, never!" Then she threw herself down on the sofa and hid
+her face. Some memory came over her that made her writhe with shame.
+Hugo smiled to himself.
+
+"Everybody saw what was going on," he continued. "Everybody pitied you.
+People wondered at your friends for allowing you to manifest an
+unrequited attachment in that shameless manner. They supposed that you
+knew no better; but they wondered that Mrs. Heron and Elizabeth Murray
+did not caution you. Perhaps they did. You were never very good at
+taking a caution, were you, Kitty?"
+
+The only answer was a moan. He had found the way to torture her now; and
+he meant to use his power.
+
+"Vivian was a good deal chaffed about it. He used to be a great flirt
+when he was younger, but not so much of late years, you know. I'll
+confess now, Kitty, I taxed him one day with his conduct to you. He said
+he was sorry; he knew that you were head and ears in love with him----"
+
+"It is false," said Kitty, lifting a very pale face from the cushions
+amongst which she had laid it. "Mr. Vivian never said anything of the
+kind. He is too much of a gentleman to say a thing like that."
+
+"What do you know of the things that men say to each other when they are
+alone?" said Hugo, confident in her ignorance of the world, and
+professedly contemptuous. "He said what I have told you. And he said,
+too, that marriage was out of the question for him, on account of an
+unfortunate entanglement in his youth--a private marriage, or something
+of the kind; his wife is separated from him, but she is living still. He
+asked me to let you know this as soon and as gently as I could."
+
+"Is it true?" she asked, in a low voice. Her face seemed to have grown
+ten years older in the last ten minutes: it was perfectly colourless,
+and the eyes had a dull, strained look, which was not softened even by
+the bright drops that still hung on her long lashes.
+
+"Perfectly true," said Hugo. "Perhaps this paper will bring you
+conviction, if my word does not."
+
+He handed her a small slip cut from a newspaper, which had the air of
+having been in his possession for some time. Kitty took it and read:--
+
+"On the 15th of October, at St. Botolph's Church, Manchester, Rupert,
+eldest son of the late Gerald Vivian, Esq., of Vivian Court, Devonshire,
+to Selina Mary Smithson. No cards."
+
+Just a commonplace announcement of marriage like any other. Kitty's eyes
+travelled to the top of the paper where the date was printed: 1863. "It
+is a long while ago," she said, pointing to the figures. "His wife may
+be dead." Her voice sounded hoarse and unnatural, even in her own ears.
+
+"Perhaps so," said Hugo, carelessly. "If he said that she were, I should
+not be much inclined to believe him. After all these years of secrecy a
+man will say anything. But he told me last year that she was living."
+
+Kitty laid down the paper with a sort of gasp and shiver. She murmured
+something to herself--it sounded like a prayer--"God help me!" or words
+to that effect--but she was quite unconscious of having spoken. Hugo
+took up the paper, and replaced it carefully in his pocket-book. He had
+held it in reserve for some time now; but he was not quite sure that it
+had done all its work.
+
+"And now," he went on, "you see a part--not the whole--of my motives,
+Kitty. I had been raging in my heart against this fellow's insolence for
+long enough; I wanted to stop the slanderous tongues of the people who
+were talking about you; and I hoped--when you were so kind and gracious
+to me--that you meant to be my wife. Therefore, when I asked you and you
+refused me, I grew desperate. Believe me, Kitty, or not, as you choose,
+but my love for you has nearly maddened me. I could not leave you
+to lay yourself open to the world's contempt and scorn: I was
+afraid--afraid--lest Vivian should do you harm in the world's eyes, and
+so I tried to save you, dear, to save you from yourself and him--even
+against your own will, when I brought you here."
+
+His eyes grew moist, and lost some of their wildness: he drew nearer,
+and ventured almost timidly to take her hand. She did not repulse him,
+and from her silence and motionlessness he gathered courage.
+
+"I thought to myself," he said, "that here, at least, was a refuge: here
+was a man who loved you, and was ready to give you his home and his
+name, and show the world that he loved you in spite of all. Here was a
+chance for you, I thought, to show that you had not given your heart
+where it was not wanted; that you were not that pitiable object, a woman
+scorned. But you refused me. So then I took the law into my own hands.
+Was I so very wrong?"
+
+He paused, and she suddenly burst out into wild hysterical sobs and
+tears.
+
+"Let me go home," she said, between her sobs. "I will give you my answer
+then.... I will not forget! I will not be thoughtless and foolish any
+more.... But let me go home first: I must go home. I cannot stay here
+alone!"
+
+"You cannot go home, Kitty," said Hugo, modulating his voice to one of
+extreme softness and sweetness. He knelt before her, and took both her
+hands in his. "You left Mrs. Baxter's yesterday afternoon--to meet me,
+you said. Where have you been since then?--that will be the first
+question. You cannot go home without me now: what would the world say?
+Don't you understand?"
+
+"What does it matter what the world says? My father would know that it
+was all right," said Kitty, helplessly.
+
+"Would your father take you in?" Hugo whispered. "Would he not rather
+say that you must have planned it all, that you were not to be trusted,
+that you had better have married me when I asked you? For, if you leave
+this house before you are my wife, Kitty, I shall not ask you again to
+marry me. Are you so simple as not to know why? You would be
+compromised: that is all. You need not have obliged me to tell you so."
+
+She wrenched her hands away from him and put them before her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I see it all now," she moaned. "I am trapped--trapped. But I will
+not marry you. I will die rather. Oh, Rupert, Rupert! why do you not
+come?"
+
+And then she fell into a fit of hysterical shrieking, succeeded by a
+swoon, from which Hugo found some difficulty in recovering her. He was
+obliged to call the nurse to his aid, and the nurse and the kitchen-maid
+between them carried the girl upstairs and placed her on the bed. Here
+Kitty came to herself by degrees, but it was thought well to leave the
+kitchen-maid, Elsie, beside her for some time, for as soon as she was
+left alone the hysterical symptoms reappeared. She saw Hugo no more that
+day, but on the following morning, when she sat pale and listless over
+the fire in her sitting-room, he reappeared. He spoke to her gently, but
+she gave him no answer. She looked at him with blank, languid eyes, and
+said not a word. He was almost frightened at her passivity. He thought
+that he had perhaps over-strained matters: that he had sent her out of
+her mind. But he did not lose hope. Kitty, with weakened powers of body
+and mind, would still be to him the woman that he loved, and that he had
+set his heart upon winning for his wife.
+
+That day passed, and the next, with no change in her condition. Hugo
+began to grow impatient. He resolved to try stronger measures.
+
+But stronger measures were not necessary. On the fifth day, he came to
+her at eleven o'clock in the morning, with a curious smile upon his
+lips. He had an opera-glass in his hand.
+
+"I have something to show you, Kitty," he said to her.
+
+He led her to the window, and directed her attention to a distant point
+in the view where a few yards of the highroad could be discerned. "You
+see the road," he said. "Now look through the glass for a few minutes."
+
+Languidly enough she did as he desired. The strong glass brought into
+her sight in a few moments two gentlemen on horseback. Kitty uttered a
+faint cry. It was her father and Mr. Colquhoun.
+
+"I thought that we should see them in a minute or two," said Hugo,
+calmly. "They were here a quarter-of-an-hour ago."
+
+"Here! In this house?"
+
+"Yes; making inquiries after you. I think I quite convinced them that I
+knew nothing about you. They apologised for the trouble they had given
+me, and went away."
+
+"Oh, father, father!" cried Kitty, stretching out her arms and sobbing
+wildly, as if she could make him hear: "Oh, father, come back! come
+back! Am I to die here and never see you again--never again?"
+
+Hugo said nothing more. He had no need. She wept herself into quietness,
+and then remained silent for a long time, with her head buried in her
+hands. He left her in this position, and did not return until the
+evening. And then she spoke to him in a voice which showed that her
+strength had deserted her, her will had been bent at last.
+
+"Do as you please," she said. "I will be your wife. I see no other way.
+But I hate you--I hate you--and I will never forgive you for what you
+have done as long as ever I live."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+TOO LATE!
+
+
+Rupert Vivian went to London with a fixed determination not to return to
+Strathleckie. He told himself that he had been thinking far too much of
+the whims and vagaries of a silly, pretty girl; and that it would be for
+his good to put such memories of her bright eyes, and vain, coquettish
+ways as remained to him, completely out of his mind. He did his best to
+carry out this resolution, but he was not very successful.
+
+He had some troubles of his own, and a good deal of business to
+transact; but the weeks did not pass very rapidly, although his time was
+so fully occupied. He began to be anxious to hear something of his
+friend, Percival Heron; he searched the newspapers for tidings of the
+_Arizona_, he called at Lloyd's to inquire after her; but a mystery
+seemed to hang over her fate. She had never reached Pernambuco--so much
+was certain! Had she gone to the bottom, carrying with her passengers
+and crew? And the _Falcon_, in which Brian had sailed--also reported
+missing--what had become of her?
+
+Rupert knew enough of Elizabeth Murray's story to think of her with
+anxiety--almost with tenderness--at this juncture. He knew of no reason
+why the marriage with Percival should not take place, for he had not
+heard a word about her special interest in Brian Luttrell; but he had
+been told of Brian's reappearance, and of the doubt cast upon his claim
+to the property. He was anxious, for Percival's sake as well as for
+hers, that the matter should be satisfactorily adjusted; and he felt a
+pang of dismay when he first learnt the doubt that hung over the fate of
+the _Arizona_.
+
+His anxiety led him one day to stroll with a friend into the office of a
+shipowner who had some connection with the _Arizona_. Here he found an
+old sailor telling a story to which the clerks and the chief himself
+were listening with evident interest. Vivian inquired who he was. The
+answer made him start. John Mason, of the good ship _Arizona_, which I
+saw with my own eyes go down in eight fathoms o' water off Rocas reef.
+Me and the mate got off in the boat, by a miracle, as you may say. All
+lost but us.
+
+And forthwith he told the story of the wreck--as far as he knew it.
+
+Vivian listened with painful eagerness, and sat for some little time in
+silence when the story was finished, with his hand shading his eyes.
+Then he rose up and addressed the man.
+
+"I want you to go with me to Scotland," he said, abruptly. "I want you
+to tell this story to a lady. She was to have been married to the Mr.
+Heron of whom you speak as soon as he returned. Poor girl! if anything
+can make it easier for her, it will be to hear of poor Heron's courage
+in the hour of death."
+
+He set out that night, taking John Mason with him, and gleaning from him
+many details concerning Percival's popularity on board ship, details
+which he knew would be precious to the ears of his family by-and-bye.
+Mason was an honest fellow, and did not exaggerate, even when he saw
+that exaggeration would be welcome: but Percival had made himself
+remarked, as he generally did wherever he went, by his ready tongue and
+flow of animal spirits. Mason had many stories to tell of Mr. Heron's
+exploits, and he told them well.
+
+Vivian was anxious to see the Herons before any newspaper report should
+reach them; and he therefore hurried the seaman up to Strathleckie after
+a hasty breakfast at the hotel. But at Strathleckie, disappointment
+awaited him. Everybody was out--except the baby and the servants. The
+whole party had gone to spend a long day at the house of a friend: they
+would not be back till evening.
+
+Rupert was forced to resign himself to the delay. The man, Mason, was
+regaled in the servants' hall, and was there regarded as a kind of hero;
+but Vivian had no such distraction of mind. He had nothing to do: he had
+reasons of his own for neither walking out nor trying to read. He leaned
+back in an arm-chair, with his back to the light, and closed his eyes.
+From time to time he sighed heavily.
+
+He felt himself quite sufficiently at home to ask for anything that he
+wanted; and the glass of wine and biscuit which formed his luncheon were
+brought to him in the study, the room that seemed to him best fitted for
+the communication that he would have to make. He had been there for two
+or three hours, and the short winter day was already beginning to grow
+dim, when the door opened, and a footstep made itself heard upon the
+threshold.
+
+It was a woman's step. It paused, advanced, then paused again as if in
+doubt. Vivian rose from his chair, and held out both hands. "Kitty," he
+said. "Kitty, is it you?"
+
+"Yes, it is I," she said. Her voice had lost its ring; there was a
+tonelessness about it which convinced Rupert that she had already heard
+what he had come to tell.
+
+"I thought you had gone with the others," he said, "but I am glad to
+find you here. I can tell you first--alone. I have sad news, Kitty. Why
+don't you come and shake hands with me, dear, as you always do? I want
+to have your little hand in mine while I tell you the story."
+
+He was standing near the arm-chair, from which he had risen, with his
+hand extended still. There was a look of appeal, almost a look of
+helplessness, about him, which Kitty did not altogether understand. She
+came forward and touched his hand very lightly, and then would have
+withdrawn it had his fingers not closed upon it with a firm, yet gentle
+grasp.
+
+"I think I know what you have come to say," she answered, not struggling
+to draw her hand away, but surrendering it as if it were not worth while
+to consider such a trifle. "I read it all in the newspapers this
+morning. The others do not know."
+
+"You did not tell them?" said Rupert, a little surprised.
+
+"I came to tell them now."
+
+"You have been away? Ah, yes, I heard you talking about a visit to
+Edinburgh some time ago: you have been there, perhaps? I came to see
+your father--to see you all, so that you should not learn the story
+first from the newspapers, but I was too late to shield you, Kitty."
+
+"Yes," she said, with a weary sigh; "too late."
+
+"I have brought the man Mason with me. He will tell you a great deal
+more than you can read in the newspapers. Would you like to see him now?
+Or will you wait until your father comes?"
+
+"I will wait, I think," said Kitty, very gently. "They will not be long
+now. Sit down, Mr. Vivian. I hope you have had all that you want."
+
+"What is the matter, Kitty?" asked Vivian, with (for him) extraordinary
+abruptness. "Why have you taken away your hand, child? What have I
+done?"
+
+She made no answer.
+
+"You are in trouble, Kitty. Can I not comfort you a little? I would give
+a great deal to be able to do it. But the day for that is gone by."
+
+"Yes, it is gone by," echoed Kitty once more in the tones that never
+used to be so sad.
+
+"It is selfish to talk about myself when you have this great loss to
+bear," he pursued; "and yet I must tell you what has happened to me
+lately, so that you may understand what perhaps seems strange to you. Am
+I altered, Kitty? Do I look changed to your eyes in any way?"
+
+"No," she answered, hesitatingly; "I think not. But people do not change
+very easily in appearance, do they? Whatever happens, they are the same.
+I am not at all altered, they tell me, since--since you were here."
+
+"Why should you be?" said Rupert, vaguely touched, he knew not why, by
+the pathetic quality that had crept into her voice. "Even a great
+sorrow, like this one, does not change us in a single day. But I have
+had some weeks in which to think of my loss; small and personal though
+it may seem to you."
+
+"What loss?" said Kitty.
+
+"Is it no loss to think that I shall never see your face again, Kitty? I
+am blind."
+
+"Blind!" She said the word again, with a strange thrill in her voice.
+"Blind!"
+
+"Not quite, just yet," said Rupert, quietly, but with a resolute
+cheerfulness. "I know that you are standing there, and I can still grope
+my way amongst the tables and chairs in a room, without making many
+mistakes: but I cannot see your sweet eyes and mouth, Kitty, and I shall
+never look upon the purple hills again. Do you remember that we planned
+to climb Craig Vohr next summer for the sake of the fine view? Not much
+use my attempting it now, I am afraid--unless you went with me, and told
+me what you saw."
+
+She did not say a word. He waited a moment, but none came; and he could
+not see the tears that were in her eyes. Perhaps he divined that they
+were there.
+
+"It has been coming on for some time," he said, still in the cheerful
+tone which he had made himself adopt. "I was nearly certain of it when I
+was here in January; and since then I have seen some famous oculists,
+and spent a good deal of time in a dark room--with no very good result.
+Nothing can be done."
+
+"Nothing? Absolutely nothing?"
+
+"Nothing at all. I must bear it as other men have done. I am rather old
+to frame my life anew, and I shall never equal Mr. Fawcett in energy and
+power, though I think I shall take him as my model," said Rupert, with a
+rather sad smile, "but I must do my best, and I dare say I shall get
+used to it in time. Kitty, I thought--somehow--that I should like to
+hear you say that you were sorry.... And you have not said it yet."
+
+"I am sorry," said Kitty, in a low voice.
+
+The tears were falling over her pale cheeks, but she did not turn away
+her head--why should she? He could not see.
+
+"I have been a fool," said Vivian, with the unusual energy of utterance
+which struck her as something new in him. "I am thirty-eight--twenty
+years older than you, Kitty--and I have missed half the happiness that I
+might have got out of my life, and squandered the other half. I will
+tell you what happened when I was a lad of one-and-twenty--before you
+were a year old, Kitty: think of that!--I fell in love with a woman some
+years older than myself. She was a barmaid. Can you fancy me now in love
+with a barmaid? I find it hard to imagine, myself. I married her, Kitty.
+Before we had been married six weeks I discovered that she drank. I was
+tied to a drunken, brawling, foul-mouthed woman of the lower class--for
+life. At least I thought it was for life."
+
+He paused, and asked with peculiar gentleness:--
+
+"Am I telling you this at a wrong time? Shall I leave my story for
+another day? You are thinking of him, perhaps: I am not without thoughts
+of him, too, even in the story that I tell. Shall I stop, or shall I go
+on?"
+
+"Go on, please. I want to hear. Yes, as well now as any other time. You
+married. What then?"
+
+Could it be Kitty who was speaking? Rupert scarcely recognised those
+broken, uneven tones. He went on slowly.
+
+"She left me at last. We agreed to separate. I saw her from time to
+time, and made her an allowance. She lived in one place: I in another.
+She died last year."
+
+"Last year?"
+
+"Yes, in the autumn. You heard that I had gone into Wales to see a
+relation who was dying: that was my wife."
+
+"Did Percival know?" asked Kitty, in a low voice.
+
+"No. I think very few persons knew. I wonder whether I ought to have
+told the world in general! I did not want to blazon forth my shame."
+
+For a little time they both were silent. Then Rupert said, softly:--
+
+"When she was dead, I remembered the little girl whom I used to know in
+Gower-street; and I said to myself that I would find her out."
+
+"You found her changed," said Kitty, with a sob.
+
+"Very much changed outwardly; but with the same loving heart at the
+core. Kitty, I was unjust to you: I have come back to offer reparation."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For that injustice, dear. When I went away from Strathleckie in
+January, I was angry and vexed with you. I thought that you were
+throwing yourself away in promising to marry Hugo Luttrell--" then, as
+Kitty made a sudden gesture--"oh, I know I had no right to interfere. I
+was wrong, quite wrong. I must confess to you now, Kitty, that I thought
+you a vain, frivolous, little creature; and it was not until I began to
+think over what I had said to you and what you had said to me, that I
+saw clearly, as I lay in my darkened room, how unjust I had been to
+you."
+
+"You were not unjust," said Kitty, hurriedly; "and I was wrong. I did
+not tell you the truth; I let you suppose that I was engaged to Hugo
+when I was not. But----"
+
+"You were not engaged to him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I may say what I should have said weeks ago if I had not thought
+that you had promised to marry him?"
+
+"It cannot make much difference what you say now," said Kitty, heavily.
+"It is too late."
+
+"I suppose it is. I cannot ask any woman--especially any girl of your
+age--to share the burden of my infirmity."
+
+"It is not that. Anyone would be proud to share such a burden--to be of
+the least help to you--but I mean--you have not heard----"
+
+She could not go on. If he had seen her face, he might have guessed more
+quickly what she meant. But he could not see; and her voice, broken as
+it was, told him only that she was agitated by some strong emotion--he
+knew not of what kind. He rose and stood beside her, as if he did not
+like to sit while she was standing. Even at that moment she was struck
+by the absence of his old airs of superiority; his blindness seemed to
+have given him back the dependence and simplicity of much earlier days.
+
+"I suppose you mean that you are not free," he said. "And even if you
+had been free, my dear, it is not at all likely that I should have had a
+chance. There are certain to be many wooers of a girl possessed of your
+fresh sweetness and innocent gaiety. I wished only to say to you that I
+have been punished for any harsh words of mine, by finding out that I
+could not forget your face for a day, for an hour. I will not say that I
+cannot live without you; but I will say that life would have the charm
+that it had in the days of my youth, if I could have hoped that you,
+Kitty, would have been my wife."
+
+There was a faint melancholy in the last few words that went to Kitty's
+heart. Rupert heard her sob, and immediately put out his hand with the
+uncertain action of a man who cannot see.
+
+"Kitty!" he said, ruefully, "I did not mean to make you cry, dear. Don't
+grieve. There are obstacles on both sides now. I am a blind, helpless
+old fellow; and you are going to be married. Child, what does this
+mean?"
+
+Unable to speak, she had seized his hand and guided it to the finger on
+which she wore a plain gold ring. He felt it: he felt her hand, and then
+he asked a question.
+
+"Are you married already, Kitty?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To whom?"
+
+"To Hugo Luttrell." And then she sank down almost at his feet, sobbing,
+and her hot tears fell upon the hand which she pressed impulsively to
+her lips. "Oh, forgive me! forgive me!" she cried. "Indeed, I did not
+know what to do. I was very wicked and foolish. And now I am miserable.
+I shall be miserable all my life."
+
+These vague self-accusations conveyed no very clear idea to Vivian's
+mind; but he was conscious of a sharp sting of pain at the thought that
+she was not happy in her marriage.
+
+"I did not know. I would not have spoken as I did if I had known," he
+said.
+
+"No, I know you would not; and yet I could not tell you. You will hear
+all about it from the others. I cannot bear to tell you. And
+yet--yet--don't think me quite so foolish, quite so wrong as they will
+say that I have been. They do not know all. I cannot tell them all. I
+was driven into it--and now I have to bear the punishment. My whole life
+is a punishment. I am miserable."
+
+"Life can never be a mere punishment, if it is rightly led," said
+Vivian, in a low tone. "It is, at any rate, full of duties and they will
+bring happiness."
+
+"To some, perhaps; not to me," said Kitty, raising herself from her
+kneeling posture and drying her eyes. "I have no duties but to look nice
+and make myself agreeable."
+
+"You will find duties if you look for them. There is your husband's
+happiness, to begin with----"
+
+"My husband," exclaimed Kitty, in a tone of passionate contempt that
+startled him. But they could say no more, for at that moment the
+carriage came up to the door, and, from the voices in the hall, it was
+plain that the family had returned.
+
+A great hush fell upon those merry voices when Mr. Vivian's errand was
+made known. Mrs. Heron, who was really fond of Percival, was
+inconsolable, and retired to her own room with the little boys and the
+baby to weep for him in peace. Mr. Heron, Kitty, and Elizabeth remained
+with Rupert in the study, listening to the short account which he gave
+of the wreck of the _Arizona_, as he had learnt it from Mason's lips.
+And then it was proposed that Mason should be summoned to tell his own
+story.
+
+Mason's eyes rested at once upon Elizabeth with a look of respectful
+admiration. He told his story with a rough, plain eloquence which more
+than once brought tears to the listeners' eyes; and he dwelt at some
+length on the presence of mind and cheery courage which Mr. Heron had
+shown during the few minutes between the striking of the ship and her
+going down. "Just as bold as a lion, ladies and gentlemen; helping every
+poor soul along, and never thinking of himself. They told fine tales of
+one of the men we took aboard from the _Falcon_; but Mr. Heron beat him
+and all of us, I'm sure."
+
+"You took on board someone from the _Falcon_?" said Elizabeth, suddenly.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, three men that were picked up in an open boat, where they
+had been for five days and nights; the _Falcon_ having been burnt to the
+water's edge, and very few of the crew saved."
+
+Elizabeth's hands clasped themselves a little more tightly, but she
+suffered no sign of emotion to escape her.
+
+"Do you remember the names of the men saved from the _Falcon_?" she
+said.
+
+"There was Jackson," said the sailor, slowly; "and there was Fall; and
+there was a steerage passenger--seems to me his name was Smith, but I
+can't rec'llect exackly."
+
+"It was not Stretton?"
+
+"No, it warn't no name like that, ma'am."
+
+"Then they are both lost," said Elizabeth, rising up with a deadly calm
+in her fixed eyes and white face; "both lost in the great, wild sea. We
+shall see them no more--no more." She paused, and then added in a much
+lower voice, as if speaking to herself: "I shall go to them, but they
+will not return to me."
+
+Her strength seemed to give way. She walked a few steps unsteadily,
+threw up her hands as if to save herself, and without a word and without
+a cry, fell in a dead faint to the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A MERE CHANCE.
+
+
+Vivian went back to London on the following morning, taking Mason with
+him. He had heard what made him anxious to leave Strathleckie before any
+accidental meeting with Hugo Luttrell should take place. The story told
+of Kitty's marriage was that she had eloped with Hugo; and Mr. Heron, in
+talking the matter over with his son's friend, declared that an
+elopement had been not only disgraceful, but utterly unnecessary, since
+he should never have thought of opposing the marriage. He had been
+exceedingly angry at first; and now, although he received Kitty at
+Strathleckie, he treated her with great coldness, and absolutely refused
+to speak to Hugo at all.
+
+In a man of Mr. Heron's easy temperament, these manifestations of anger
+were very strong; and Vivian felt even a little surprised that he took
+the matter so much to heart. He himself was not convinced that the whole
+truth of the story had been told: he was certain, at any rate, that Hugo
+Luttrell had dragged Kitty's name through the mire in a most
+unjustifiable way, and he felt a strong desire to wreak vengeance upon
+him. For Kitty's sake, therefore, it was better that he should keep out
+of the way: he did not want to quarrel with her husband, and he knew
+that Hugo would not be sorry to find a cause of dispute with him.
+
+He could not abandon the hope of some further news of the _Arizona_ and
+the _Falcon_. He questioned Mason repeatedly concerning the shipwrecked
+men who had been taken on board but he obtained little information. And
+yet he could not be content. It became a regular thing for Vivian to be
+seen, day after day, in the shipowners' offices, at Lloyd's, at the
+docks, asking eagerly for news, or, more frequently, turning his
+sightless eyes and anxious face from one desk to another, as the
+careless comments of the clerks upon his errand fell upon his ear.
+Sometimes his secretary came with him: sometimes, but, more seldom, a
+lady. For Angela was living with him now, and she was as anxious about
+Brian as he was concerning Percival.
+
+He had been making these inquiries one day, and had turned away with his
+hand upon Angela's arm, when a burly, red-faced man, with a short, brown
+beard, whom Angela had seen once or twice before in the office,
+followed, and addressed himself to Rupert.
+
+"Beg pardon: should like to speak to you for a moment, sir, if agreeable
+to the lady," he said, touching his cap. "You were asking about the
+_Arizona_, wrecked off the Rocas Reef, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, I was," said Vivian, quickly. "Have you any news? Have any
+survivors of the crew returned?"
+
+"Can't say I know of any, save John Mason and Terry, the mate," said the
+man, shaking his head. He had a bluff, good-natured manner, which Angela
+did not dislike; but it seemed somewhat to repel her brother.
+
+"If you have no news," he began in a rather distant tone; but the man
+interrupted him with a genial laugh.
+
+"I've got no news, sir, but I've got a suggestion, if you'll allow me to
+make it. No concern of mine, of course, but I heard that you had friends
+aboard the _Arizona_, and I took an interest in that vessel because she
+came to grief at a place which has been the destruction of many a fine
+ship, and where I was once wrecked myself."
+
+"You! And how did you escape?" said Angela, eagerly.
+
+"Swam ashore, ma'am," said the man, touching his cap. Then, with a shy
+sort of smile, he added:--"What I did, others may have done, for
+certain."
+
+"You swam to the reef?" asked Vivian.
+
+"First to the reef and then to the island, sir. There's two islands
+inside the reef forming the breakwater. More than once the same thing
+has happened. Men had been there before me, and had been fetched away by
+passing ships, and men may be there now for aught we know."
+
+"Oh, Rupert!" said Angela, softly.
+
+"How long were you on the island then?" asked Rupert.
+
+"About three weeks, sir. But I have heard of the crew of a ship being
+there for as many months--and more. You have to take your chance. I was
+lucky. I'm always pretty lucky, for the matter of that."
+
+"Would it be easy to land on the island?"
+
+"There's an opening big enough for boats in the reef. It ain't a very
+easy matter to swim the distance. I was only thinking, when I heard you
+asking questions, that it was just possible that some of the crew and
+passengers might have got ashore, after all, as I did, and turn up when
+you're least expecting it. It's a chance, anyway. Good morning, sir."
+
+"Excuse me," said Vivian; "would you mind giving me your name and
+address?"
+
+The man's name was Somers: he was the captain of a small trading vessel,
+and was likely to be in London for some weeks.
+
+"But if you have anything more to ask me, sir," he said, "I shall be
+pleased to come and answer any of your inquiries at your own house, if
+you wish. It's a long tramp for you to come my way."
+
+"Thank you," said Vivian. "If it is not troubling you too much, I think
+I had better come to you. Your time is valuable, no doubt, and mine is
+not."
+
+"You'll find me in between three and five almost any time," said Captain
+Somers, and with these words they parted.
+
+Rupert fell into a brown study as soon as the captain had left them, and
+Angela did not interrupt the current of his thoughts. Presently he
+said:--
+
+"What sort of face had that man, Angela?"
+
+"A very honest face, I think," she said.
+
+"He seemed honest. But one can tell so much from a man's face that does
+not come out in his manner. This is the sort of interview that makes me
+feel what a useless log I am."
+
+"You must not think that, Rupert."
+
+"But I do think it. I wish I could find something to do--something that
+would take me out of myself and these purely personal troubles of mine.
+At my age a man certainly ought to have a career. But what am I talking
+about? No career is open to me now." And then he sighed; and she knew
+without being told that he was thinking of his dead wife and of Kitty
+Heron, as well as of his blindness.
+
+Little by little he had told her the whole story; or rather she had
+pieced it together from fragments--stray words and sentences that he let
+fall; for Rupert was never very ready to make confidences. But at
+present he was glad of her quiet sympathy; and during the past few weeks
+she had learnt more about her brother than he had ever allowed her to
+learn before. But she never alluded to what he called his "purely
+personal troubles" unless he first made a remark about them of his own
+accord; and he very seldom indulged himself by referring to them.
+
+He had not informed the Herons of a fact that was of some importance to
+him at this time. He had never been without fair means of his own; but
+it had recently happened that a distant relative died and left him a
+large fortune. He talked at first to Angela about purchasing the old
+house in Devonshire, which had been sold in the later years of his
+father's life; but during the last few weeks he had not mentioned this
+project, and she almost thought that he had given it up.
+
+One result of this accession of wealth was that he took a pleasant house
+in Kensington, where he and his sister spent their days together. He had
+a young man to act as his secretary and as a companion in expeditions
+which would have been beyond Angela's strength; and on his return from
+the docks, where he met Captain Somers, he seemed to have a good deal to
+say to this young fellow. He sent him out on an errand which took up a
+good deal of time. Angela guessed that he was making inquiries about
+Captain Somers. And she was right.
+
+Vivian went next day to the address which the sea-captain had given him;
+and he took with him his secretary, Mr. Fane. They found Captain Somers
+at home, in a neat little room for which he looked too big; a room
+furnished like the cabin of a ship, and decorated with the various
+things usually seen in a seaman's dwelling--some emu's eggs, a lump of
+brain coral, baskets of tamarind seeds, and bunches of blackened
+seaweed. There were maps and charts on the table, and to one of these
+Captain Somers directed his guest's attention.
+
+"There, sir," he said. "There's the Rocas Reef; off Pernambuco, as you
+see. That's the point where the _Arizona_ struck, I'm pretty sure of
+that."
+
+"Show it to my friend, Mr. Fane," said Vivian, gently pushing the chart
+away from him. "I can't see. I'm blind."
+
+"Lord!" ejaculated the captain. Then, after an instant of astonished
+silence, "One would never have guessed it. I'm sure I beg your pardon,
+sir."
+
+"What for?" said Vivian, smiling. "I am glad to hear that I don't look
+like a blind man. And now tell me about your shipwreck on the Rocas
+Reef."
+
+Captain Somers launched at once into his story. He gave a very graphic
+description of the island, and of the days that he had spent upon it;
+and he wound up by saying that he had known of two parties of
+shipwrecked mariners who had made their way to the place, and that, in
+his opinion, there was no reason why there should not be a third.
+
+"But, mind you, sir," he said, "it's only a strong man and a good
+swimmer that would have any chance. There wasn't one of us that escaped
+but could swim like a fish. Was your friend a good swimmer, do you
+happen to know?"
+
+"Remarkably good."
+
+"Ah, then, he had a chance; you know, after all, the chance is very
+small."
+
+"But you think," said Vivian, deliberately, "that possibly there are now
+men on that island, waiting for a ship to come and take them off?"
+
+"Well, sir," said the captain, thrusting his hands into the pockets of
+his pea-jacket, and settling himself deep into his wooden arm-chair,
+"it's just a possibility."
+
+"Do ships ever call at the island?"
+
+"They give it as wide a berth as they can, sir. Still, if it was a fine,
+clear day, and a vessel passed within reasonable distance, the
+castaways, if there were any, might make a signal. The smoke from a fire
+can be seen a good way off. Unfortunately, the reef lies low. That's
+what makes it dangerous."
+
+Vivian sat brooding over this information for some minutes. The captain
+watched him curiously, and said:--
+
+"It's only fair to remind you, sir, that even if some of the men did get
+safe to the island, there's no certainty that your friend would be
+amongst them. In fact, it's ten to one that any of them got to land; and
+it's a hundred to one that your friend is there. It would need a good
+deal of pluck, and strength, and skill, too, to save himself in that
+way, or else a deal of lack. I had the luck," said Captain Somers,
+modestly, "but I own it's unusual."
+
+"I don't know about the luck," said Vivian, "but if pluck, and strength,
+and skill could save a man under those circumstances, I think my friend
+Heron had a good chance."
+
+They had some more conversation, and then Vivian took his leave. He did
+not talk much when he reached the street, and throughout the rest of the
+day he was decidedly absent-minded and thoughtful. Angela forebore to
+question him, but she saw that something lay upon his mind, and she
+became anxious to hear what it was. Mr. Fane preserved a discreet
+silence. It was not until after dinner that Rupert seemed to awake to a
+consciousness of his unwonted silence and abstraction.
+
+The servants had withdrawn. A shaded lamp threw a circle of brilliance
+upon the table, and brought out its distinctive features with singular
+distinctness against a background of olive-green wall and velvet
+curtain. Its covering of glossy white damask, its ornaments of Venetian
+glass, the delicate yet vivid colours of the hothouse flowers and fruit
+in the dishes, the gem-like tints of the wines, the very texture and the
+hues of the Bulgarian embroidery upon the d'oyleys, formed a study in
+colour which an artist would have loved to paint. The faces and figures
+of the persons present harmonised well enough with the artistic
+surroundings. Angela's pale, spiritual loveliness was not impaired by
+the sombreness of her garments; she almost always wore black now, but it
+was black velvet, and she had a knot of violets in her bosom. Rupert's
+musing face, with its high-bred look of distinction, was turned
+thoughtfully to the fire. Arthur Fane had the sleek, fair head, straight
+features, and good-humouredly intelligent expression, characteristic of
+a very pleasant type of young Englishman. The beautiful deerhound which
+sat with its long nose on Rupert's knee, and its melancholy eyes lifted
+affectionately from time to time to Rupert's face, was a not unworthy
+addition to the group.
+
+Vivian spoke at last with a smile. "I am very unsociable to-night," he
+said, tuning his face to the place where he knew Angela sat. "I have
+been making a decision."
+
+Fane looked up sharply; Angela said "Yes?" in an inquiring tone.
+
+But Rupert did not at once mention the nature of his decision. He began
+to repeat Captain Somer's story; he told her what kind of a place the
+Rocas Reef was like; he even begged Fane to fetch an atlas from the
+study and show her the spot where the _Arizona_ had been wrecked.
+
+"You must please not mention this matter to the Herons when you are
+writing, you know, Angela," he continued, "or to Miss Murray. It is a
+mere chance--the smallest chance in the world--and it would not be fair
+to excite their hopes."
+
+"But it is a chance, is it not, Rupert?"
+
+"Yes, dear, it is a chance."
+
+"Then can nothing be done?"
+
+"I think something must be done," said he, quietly. There was a purpose
+in his tone, a hopeful light in his face, which she could not but
+remark.
+
+"What will you do, Rupert?"
+
+"I think, dear," he said, smiling, "that the easiest plan would be for
+me to go out to the Rocas Reef myself."
+
+"You, Rupert!"
+
+"Yes, I, myself. That is if Fane will go with me."
+
+"I shall be delighted," said Fane, whose grey eyes danced with pleasure
+at the idea.
+
+"You must take me, too," said Angela.
+
+It was Rupert's turn now to ejaculate. "You, Angela! My dear child, you
+are joking."
+
+"I'm not joking at all. You would be much more comfortable if I went,
+too. And I think that Aunt Alice would go with us, if we asked her. Why
+not? You want to travel, and I have nothing to keep me in England. Let
+us go together."
+
+Rupert smiled. "I want to lose no time," he said. "I must travel fast."
+
+"I am fond of travelling. And I shall be so lonely while you are away."
+
+That argument was a strong one. Rupert conceded the point. Angela should
+go with him on condition that Aunt Alice--usually known as Mrs.
+Norman--should go too. They would travel with all reasonable swiftness,
+and if--as was to be feared--their expedition should prove unsuccessful,
+they could loiter a little as they came back, and make themselves
+acquainted with various pleasant and interesting places on their way.
+They spent the rest of the evening in discussing their route.
+
+Rupert was rich enough to carry out his whim--if whim it could be
+called--in the pleasantest and speediest way. Before long he was the
+temporary owner of a fine little schooner, in which he proposed to scour
+the seas in search of his missing friend. To his great satisfaction,
+Captain Somers consented to act as his skipper: a crew of picked men was
+obtained; and the world in general received the information that Mr.
+Vivian and his sister were going on a yachting expedition for the good
+of their health, and would probably not return to England for many
+months.
+
+Rupert's spirits rose perceptibly at the prospect of the voyage. He was
+tired of inaction, and welcomed the opportunity of a complete change. He
+had not much hope of finding Percival, but he was resolved, at any rate,
+to explore the Rocas Reef, and discover any existing traces of the
+_Arizona_. "And who knows but what there may be some other poor fellows
+on that desolate reef?" he said to his secretary, Fane, who was wild
+with impatience to set off. "We can but go and see. If we are
+unsuccessful we will go round Cape Horn and up to Fiji. I always had a
+hankering after those lovely Pacific islands. If you are going down Pall
+Mall, Fane, you might step into Harrison's and order those books by Miss
+Bird and Miss Gordon Cumming--you know the ones I mean. They will make
+capital reading on board."
+
+Angela had been making some purchases in Kensington one afternoon, and
+was thinking that it was time to return home, when she came unexpectedly
+face to face with an acquaintance. It was Elizabeth Murray.
+
+Angela knew her slightly, but had always liked her. A great wave of
+sympathy rose in her heart as her eyes rested upon the face of a woman
+who had, perhaps, lost her lover, even as Angela had lost hers.
+Elizabeth's face had parted with its beautiful bloom; it was pale and
+worn, and the eyelids looked red and heavy, as though from sleepless
+nights and many tears. The two clasped hands warmly. Angela's lips
+quivered, and her eyes filled with tears, but Elizabeth's face was
+rigidly set in an enforced quietude.
+
+"I am glad I have met you," she said. "I was wondering where to find
+you. I did not know your address."
+
+"Come and see me now," said Angela, by a sudden impulse.
+
+"Thank you. I will."
+
+A few minutes' walking brought them to the old house which Rupert had
+lately taken. It was in a state of some confusion: boxes stood in the
+passages, parcels were lying about the floor. Angela coloured a little
+as she saw Elizabeth's eye fall on some of these.
+
+"We are going away," she said, hurriedly, "on a sea-voyage. The doctors
+have been recommending it to Rupert for some time."
+
+This was strictly true.
+
+"I knew you were going away," said Elizabeth, in a low tone.
+
+She was standing beside a table in the drawing-room: her left hand
+rested upon it, her eyes were fixed absently upon the muff which she
+carried in her right hand. Angela asked her to sit down. But Elizabeth
+did not seem to hear. She began to speak with a nervous tremor in her
+voice which made Angela feel nervous, too.
+
+"I have heard a strange thing," she said. "I have heard it rumoured that
+you are going to cross the Atlantic--that you mean to visit the Rocas
+Reef. Tell me, please, if it is true or not."
+
+Angela did not know what to say.
+
+"We are going to South America," she murmured, with a somewhat
+embarrassed smile. "We may pass the Rocas Reef."
+
+"Ah, speak to me frankly," said Elizabeth, putting down her muff and
+moving forward with a slight gesture of supplication. "Mr. Vivian was
+Percival's friend. Does he really mean to go and look for him? Do they
+think that some of the crew and passengers may be living upon the island
+still?"
+
+"There is just a chance," said Angela, quoting her brother. "He means to
+go and see. We did not tell you: we were afraid you might be
+too--too--hopeful."
+
+"I will not be too hopeful. I will be prudent and calm. But you must
+tell me all about it. Do you really think there is any chance? Oh, you
+are happy: you can go and see for yourself, and I can do
+nothing--nothing--nothing! And it was my doing that he went!"
+
+Her voice sank into a low moan. She clasped her hands together and wrung
+them a little beneath her cloak. Angela, looking at her with wet,
+sympathetic eyes, had a sudden inspiration. She held out her hand.
+
+"Come with us," she said, gently. "Why should you not? We will take care
+of you. What would I not have given to do something for the man I loved!
+If Mr. Heron is living, you shall help us to find him."
+
+Elizabeth's face turned white. "I cannot go with you under false
+pretences," she said. "You will think me base--wicked; you cannot think
+too ill of me--but----It was not Percival Heron whom I loved. And he
+knew it--and loved me still. You--you--have been true in your heart to
+your promised husband; but I--in my heart--was false."
+
+She covered her face and burst into passionate weeping as she spoke. But
+Angela did not hesitate.
+
+"If that is the case," she said, very softly and sweetly, "if you are
+anxious to repair any wrong that you have done to him, help us to find
+him now. You have nothing to keep you in England! My brother will say
+what I say--Come with us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+FOUND.
+
+
+"As far as I can calculate," said Percival, "this is the end of March.
+Confound it! I wish I had some tobacco."
+
+"Don't begin to wish," remarked Brian, lazily, "or you will never end."
+
+"I haven't your philosophy. I am wishing all day long--and for nothing
+so much as the sight of a sail on yonder horizon."
+
+In justice to Percival, it must be observed that he never spoke in this
+way except when alone with Brian, and very seldom even then. There had
+been a marked change in their relations to each other since the night
+when Heron had made what he called "his confession." They had never
+again mentioned the subject then discussed, but there had been a steady
+growth of friendship and confidence between them. If it was ever
+interrupted, it was only when Percival had now and then a moody fit,
+during which he would keep a sort of sullen silence. Brian respected
+these moods, and thought that he understood them. But he found in the
+end that he had been as much mistaken about their origin as Percival had
+once been mistaken in attributing motives of a mercenary kind to him.
+And when the cloud passed, Percival would be friendlier and more genial
+than ever.
+
+"Of course," said Heron, presently, "if a vessel saw our signal--and
+hove to, we should have to send out one of our ingeniously constructed
+small boats and state our case. Jackson and I would be the best men for
+the purpose, I suppose. Then they would send for the rest of you. A good
+opportunity for leaving you behind, Brian, eh?"
+
+"A hermit's life would not suit me badly," said Brian, who was lying on
+his back on a patch of sand in the shade, with a hat of cocoa-nut fibre
+tilted over his eyes. "I think I could easily let you go back without
+me."
+
+"I shall not do that, you know."
+
+"It is foolish, perhaps, to let our minds dwell on the future," said
+Brian, after a moment's pause; "but the more I think of it the more I
+wonder that your mind is so set upon dragging me back to England. You
+know that I don't want to go. You know that that business could be
+settled just as well without me as with me; better, in fact. I shall
+have to stultify myself; to repudiate my own actions; to write myself
+down an ass."
+
+"Good for you," said Percival, with an ironical smile.
+
+"Possibly; but I don't see what you gain by it."
+
+"Love of dominion, my dear fellow. I want to drag you as a captive at my
+chariot-wheels, of course. We will have a military band at the Dunmuir
+Station, and it shall play 'See the conquering hero comes.'"
+
+"Very well. I don't mind assisting at your triumph."
+
+"Hum! My triumph? Wait till that day arrives, and we shall see. What's
+that fellow making frantic signs about from that biggest palm-tree? It
+looks as if----Good Heavens, Brian, it's a sail!"
+
+He dashed the net that he had been making to the ground, and rushed off
+at the top of his speed to the place where a pile of wood and seaweed
+had been heaped to make a bonfire. Brian followed with almost equal
+swiftness. The others had already collected at the spot, and in a few
+minutes a thin, wavering line of smoke rose up into the air, and flashes
+of fire began to creep amongst the carefully-dried fuel.
+
+For a time they all watched the sail in silence. Others had been seen
+before; others had faded away into the blue distance, and left their
+hearts sick and sore. Would this one vanish like the others? Was their
+column of smoke, now rising thick and black towards the cloudless sky,
+big enough to be seen by the man on the look-out? And, if it was
+seen--what then? Why, even then, they might choose to avoid that
+perilous reef, and pass it by.
+
+"It's coming nearer," said Jackson, at last, in a loud whisper.
+
+Brian looked at Percival, then turned away and fixed his eyes once more
+upon the distant sail. There was something in Percival's face which he
+hardly cared to see. The veins on his forehead were swollen, his lips
+were nearly bitten through, his eyes were strained with that passionate
+longing for deliverance to which he seldom gave vent in words. If this
+vessel brought no succour, Brian trembled to think of the force of the
+reaction from that intense desire. For himself, Brian had little care:
+he was astonished to find how slightly the suspense of waiting told upon
+him, except for others' sake. He had no prospects: no future. But
+Percival had everything in the world that heart could wish for: home,
+happiness, success. It was natural that his impatience should have
+something in it that was fierce and bitter. If this ship failed them,
+the disappointment would almost break his heart.
+
+"They've seen us," Jackson repeated, hoarsely. "They're making for the
+island. Thank God!"
+
+"Don't be too sure," said Percival, in a harsh voice. Then, in a few
+minutes, he added:--"The boats had better be seen to. I think you are
+right."
+
+Fenwick and the boy went off immediately to the place where the two
+little boats were moored--boats which they had all laboured to
+manufacture out of driftwood and rusty iron nails. Jackson remained to
+throw fuel on the fire, and Percival, suddenly laying a hand on Brian's
+arm, led him apart and turned his back upon the glittering expanse of
+sea.
+
+"I'm as bad as a woman," he said, tightening his grasp till it seemed
+like one of steel on Brian's arm. "It turns me sick to look. Do you
+think it is coming or not!"
+
+"Of course it is coming. Don't break down at the last moment, Heron."
+
+"I'm not such a fool," said Percival, gruffly. "But--good God! think of
+the months we have gone through. I say," with a sudden and complete
+change of tone, "you're not going to back out of our arrangements, are
+you? You're coming to England with me?"
+
+"If you wish it."
+
+"I do wish it."
+
+"Very well. I will come."
+
+They clasped hands for a moment in silence and then separated. Brian
+went to the hut to collect the scanty belongings of the party: Percival
+made his way down to the boats.
+
+There was no mistake about the vessel now. She was making steadily for
+the Rocas Reef. About a mile-and-a-half from it she hove to; and a boat
+was lowered. By this time Heron and Jackson had rowed to the one gap in
+the barrier reef that surrounded the island; they met the ship's boat
+half-way between the reef and the ship itself. A young, fair,
+pleasant-looking man in the ship's boat attracted Percival's attention
+at once: he seemed to be in some position of authority, although it was
+evident that he was not one of the ship's officers. As soon as they were
+within speaking distance of each other, questions and answers were
+exchanged. Percival was struck by the brightness of the young man's face
+as he gave the information required. After a little parley, the boat
+went its way to the schooner; the officer in charge declaring with an
+odd smile that the castaways had better make known their condition to
+the captain, before returning for the others on the island. Percival was
+in no mood to demur: he and Jackson stepped into the ship's boat, and
+their own tiny craft was towed behind it as a curiosity in boatbuilding.
+
+There was a good deal of crowding at the ship's sides to look at the
+new-comers: and, as Percival sprang on board, with a sense of almost
+overpowering relief and joy at the sight of his country-men, a broad,
+red-faced man with a black beard, came up, and, as soon as he learnt his
+name, shook him heartily by the hand.
+
+"So you're Mr. Heron," he said, giving him an oddly interested and
+approving look. "Well, sir, we've come a good way for you, and I hope
+you're glad to see us. You'll find some acquaintances of yours below."
+
+"Acquaintances?" said Heron, staring.
+
+"There's one, at any rate," said the captain, pushing forward a seaman
+who was standing at his elbow, with a broad grin upon his face.
+"Remember Mason of the _Arizona_, Mr. Heron? Ah, well! if you go into
+the cabin, you'll find someone you remember better." And then the
+captain laughed, and Heron saw a smile on the faces round him, which
+confused him a little, and made him fancy that something was going
+wrong. But he had not much time for reflection. He was half-led,
+half-pushed, down the companion ladder, but in such a good-humoured,
+friendly way that he did not know how to resist; and then the
+fair-haired young man opened a door and said, "He's here, sir!" in a
+tone of triumph, which was certainly not ill bestowed. And then there
+arose some sort of confusion, and Percival heard familiar voices, and
+felt that his hand was half-shaken off, and that somebody had kissed his
+cheek.
+
+But for the moment he saw no one but Elizabeth.
+
+They had known for some little time that their quest had been
+successful, that Percival was safe. They had seen him as he rowed from
+the island, as he entered the other boat, as he set his foot upon the
+schooner; and then they had withdrawn into the cabin, so that they might
+not meet him under the inquisitive, if friendly, eyes of the captain and
+his crew. Perhaps they had hardly made enough allowance for the shock of
+surprise and joy which their appearance was certain to cause Percival.
+His illness and long residence on the island had weakened his physical
+force. In almost the first time in his life he felt a sensation of
+faintness, which made him turn pale and stagger, as he recognised the
+faces of the two persons whom he loved better than any other in the
+world--his friend and his betrothed. A thought of Brian, too, embittered
+this his first meeting with Elizabeth. Only one person noticed that
+momentary paleness and unsteadiness of step; it was natural that Angela,
+a sympathetic spectator in the background, should see more than even
+Elizabeth, whose eyes were dim with emotions which she could not have
+defined.
+
+Explanations were hurriedly given, or deferred till a future time. It
+was proposed that the whole party should go on shore, as everyone was
+anxious to see the place where Percival had spent so long a time. Even
+Rupert talked gleefully of "seeing" it. Percival had never seen his
+friend so exultant, so triumphant. And then, without knowing exactly how
+it happened, he found himself for a moment alone with Elizabeth, with
+whom he had hitherto exchanged only a hurried, word or two of greeting.
+But her hand was still in his when he turned to speak to her alone.
+
+"How beautiful you look!" he said. "If you knew what it is to me to see
+you again, Elizabeth!"
+
+But it was not pure joy that sparkled in his eyes.
+
+"Dear Percival! I am glad to see you, so glad to know that you are
+safe."
+
+"You were sorry when you heard----"
+
+"Oh," she said, "sorry is not the word. I could not forgive myself! I
+can never thank God enough that we have found you."
+
+"Yes," said he, in a low tone. "I think you are glad that I am safe. I
+don't deserve that you should be, but----Well, never mind all that.
+Won't you give me one kiss, Elizabeth, my darling?" Then, in a more
+cheerful voice, "Come and see this wretched hole in which we have passed
+the last four months. It is an interesting place."
+
+"Oh, Percival, it is just like yourself to say so!" said Elizabeth,
+smiling, but with tearful eyes. "And how pale and thin you are."
+
+"You should have seen me a couple of months ago. I was a skeleton then,"
+said Percival, as he opened the door for her. "A shell-fish diet is not
+one which I should recommend to an invalid."
+
+He was conscious of a question in her eyes which he did not mean to
+answer: he even found time to whisper a word to Jackson before they got
+into the boat. "Not a word about Luttrell," he whispered. "Say it was a
+steerage passenger who gave his name as Mackay. And don't say anything
+unless they ask you point blank." Jackson stared, but nodded an assent.
+He had a good deal of faith in Mr. Heron's wisdom.
+
+Pale and gaunt as Percival undoubtedly was, Elizabeth thought that he
+looked very like his old self, as he stood frowning and biting his
+moustache in the bows, and looking shorewards as though he were afraid
+of something that he might see. This familiar expression--something
+between anxiety and annoyance--made Elizabeth smile to herself in spite
+of her agitation. Percival was not much changed.
+
+She was sitting near him, and she longed to ask the question which was
+uppermost in her mind; but it was a difficult question to ask, seeing
+that he did not mention Brian Luttrell of his own accord. With an effort
+that made her turn pale, she bent forward at last, and said, fixing her
+eyes steadily upon him:--
+
+"What news of the _Falcon_?"
+
+He looked at her and hesitated, "Don't ask me now," he said, averting
+his face.
+
+She was silent. He heard a little sigh, and glancing at her again, saw a
+look of heart-sick resignation in her white face which told him that she
+thought Brian must be dead. He felt a pang of compunction, and a desire
+to tell her all, then he restrained himself. "She will not have to wait
+long," he thought, with a rather bitter smile.
+
+When they landed, he quietly took her hand in his, and led her a little
+apart from the others. Angela and Rupert, Mrs. Norman and Mr. Fane,
+were, however, close behind. They followed Percival's footsteps as he
+showed the way to one of the huts which the men had occupied during
+their stay on the island. When they were near it, he turned and spoke to
+Rupert and Angela. "I am obliged to be very rude," he said. "Let me go
+into the hut with Miss Murray first of all. There is something I want
+her to see--something I must say. I will come back directly."
+
+They saw that he was agitated, although he tried to speak as if nothing
+were the matter; and they drew back, respecting his emotion. As for
+Elizabeth, she waited: she could do nothing else. A little while ago she
+had said to herself that Percival was not changed: she thought
+differently now. He was changed; and yet she did not know how or why.
+
+He stopped at the door, and turned to her. He still held her hand in a
+close, warm grasp. "Don't be startled," he said, gently. "I am going to
+surprise you very much. There is a friend of mine here: remember, I say,
+a friend of mine. He was saved from the wreck of the _Falcon_--do you
+understand whom I mean?"
+
+And then he opened the door. "Brian," he said, in a voice that seemed
+strange to Elizabeth, because of its measured quietness, "come here."
+
+Elizabeth was trembling from head to foot. "Don't be afraid, child," he
+said, with more of an approach to his old tones and looks than she had
+yet heard or seen; "nobody will hurt you. Here he is--and I think I may
+fairly say that I have kept my word."
+
+Brian Luttrell had been collecting the possessions which he thought that
+his comrades might wish to take with them as mementoes of their stay
+upon the island. He sprang up quickly at the first sound of Percival's
+voice, and then stood, as if turned to stone, looking at Elizabeth. The
+healthy colour faded from his face, leaving it nearly as pale as hers;
+he set his lips, and Percival could see that he clenched his hands.
+Elizabeth did not look up at all.
+
+"Is this all the thanks I get," said Percival, in an ironical tone, "for
+introducing one cousin to another? I have taken a good deal of trouble
+for you both; I think that now you have met you might be civil to each
+other."
+
+There was a perceptible pause. Elizabeth was the first to recover
+herself. She made a step forward and put out her hand, which Brian
+instantly took in his. But neither of them spoke. Percival, with his
+back against the door, and his arms folded, observed them with a
+slightly humorous smile.
+
+"You are surprised," he said to Elizabeth, "and I don't wonder. The last
+thing you expected was to find me on good terms with Brian Luttrell, was
+it not? And we have been on fairly good terms, have we not, Luttrell?"
+
+"He saved my life twice," said Brian.
+
+"And he nursed me through a fever," interposed Percival, with a huge
+laugh, "so we are quits. Oh, we have both played our parts in a highly
+creditable manner as long as we were on a desert island; but the island
+is inhabited now, and I think it's time that we returned to the habits
+of civilised life. As a matter of fact, I consider Brian Luttrell my
+deadliest enemy."
+
+"You do nothing of the kind," said Brian, unable to repress a smile,
+although it hardly altered the look of pain that had come into his eyes.
+"Don't believe him, Miss Murray: I am glad to say that we are good
+friends."
+
+"Idyllic simplicity! Don't you know that I did but dissemble, like the
+man in the play? How can we be friends when we both----" he stopped
+short, looked at Elizabeth, and then back at Brian, and finished his
+sentence--"both want to marry the same woman?"
+
+"Heron, you are going too far. Don't make these allusions; they are
+unsuitable," said Brian.
+
+Elizabeth had winced as if she had received a blow. Percival laughed in
+their faces.
+
+"Out of taste, isn't it?" he said. "I ought to ignore the circumstances
+under which we meet, and talk as if we were in a drawing-room. I'm not
+such a fool. Look here, you two: let us talk sensibly. I have surely a
+right to demand something of you both, have I not?"
+
+"Yes, yes, indeed," they answered.
+
+"Then, for Heaven's sake, speak the truth! Here have I been chasing
+Brian half over the world, getting myself shipwrecked and thrown on
+desert islands, and what not, all because I wanted you, Elizabeth, to
+acknowledge that I was not such a mean and selfish wretch as you
+concluded me to be. Have I cleared myself? or, perhaps I should say,
+have I expiated the crime that I did commit?"
+
+"It was no crime," said Brian, warmly. "No one who knows you could think
+you capable of meanness."
+
+"I was not speaking to you, Mr. Luttrell," said Percival. "You're not in
+it at all. I am having a little conversation with my cousin. Well,
+Elizabeth, what do you say?"
+
+"I think you have been most kind and generous," she said.
+
+"Then I may retire with a good character? And, to come back to what I
+said before, as we both wish----"
+
+"You are not generous now, Heron," said Brian, quickly.
+
+"No! But I will be--sometime. You seem very anxious to repudiate all
+desire to marry my cousin. Have you changed your mind?"
+
+"Percival, I will not listen. Have you brought me here only to insult
+me?" cried Elizabeth, passionately.
+
+Percival smiled. "I am waiting for Brian Luttrell's answer," he replied,
+looking at him steadily.
+
+"I do not know what answer you expect," said Brian, "unless you want me
+to say the truth--that I loved Elizabeth Murray with all my heart and
+soul, before I knew that she had promised to be your wife; and that as I
+loved her then, I love her still. It is my misfortune--or my
+privilege--to do so; I scarcely know which. And for that reason, as you
+know, I have earnestly wished never to cross her path again, lest I
+should trouble her or distress her in any way."
+
+"Fate has been against you," said Percival, grimly. "You seem destined
+to cross her path in one way or another--and mine, too. It is time all
+this came to an end. You think I am saying disagreeable things for the
+mere pleasure of saying them; but it is not so. I will beg your pardon
+afterwards if I hurt you. What I want to say is this: I withdraw all my
+claims, if I had any, to Miss Murray's hand. I release her from any
+promise that she ever made to me. She is as free to choose as--as you
+are yourself, or as I am. We have both offered ourselves to Miss Murray
+at different times. It is for her to say which of us she prefers."
+
+There was a silence. Elizabeth's face changed from white to red, from
+red to white again. At last she looked up, and looked at Brian. He came
+to her side at once, as if he saw that she wanted help.
+
+"Percival," he said, "you are very generous in act: be generous in word
+as well. Let the matter rest. It is cruel to ask her to decide."
+
+"It seems to me that she has decided," said Percival, with a sharp,
+short laugh, "seeing that she lets you speak for her."
+
+"Oh, Percival, forgive me," murmured Elizabeth.
+
+A spasm of pain seemed to pass over his face as he turned towards her:
+then it grew strangely gentle. "My dear," he said, "I never pretended to
+be anything but a very selfish fellow; but if I can secure your
+happiness, I shall feel that I have accomplished one, at least, of the
+ends of my life. There!"--with a laugh: "I think that's well said.
+Haven't I known for months that I should be obliged to give you up to
+Luttrell in the long run? And the worst is, that I haven't the
+satisfaction of hating him through it all, because we have managed--I
+don't know how--to fight our way to a sort of friendship. Eh, Brian? And
+now I'll leave you to yourself for a few minutes, and you can settle the
+matter while you have the opportunity."
+
+He walked out of the hut before they could protest. But the smile died
+away from his lips when he had left them, and was succeeded for a few
+minutes by an expression of intense pain. He stood and looked at the
+sea; perhaps it was the dazzling reflection of the sun upon the waters
+which made his eyes so dim. After five minutes' reflection, he shrugged
+his shoulders and turned away.
+
+"There's one great consolation in returning to civilised life," he said,
+strolling up to the group of friends as they returned from a walk round
+the island. "That is--tobacco! Fate can't do much harm to the man who
+smokes." And he accepted a cigarette from Mr. Fane. "Now," he continued,
+"fortune may buffet me as she pleases; I do not care. I have not smoked
+for four months. Consequently I am as happy as a king."
+
+He smoked with evident satisfaction; but Angela thought that she
+discerned a look of trouble upon his face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+ANGELA.
+
+
+"So it was not you after all, sir," said Captain Somers, surveying Heron
+with some surprise, and then glancing towards a secluded corner, where
+Brian and Elizabeth were absorbed in an apparently very interesting
+conversation. "Well, I must have made a mistake. I didn't know anything
+about the other gentleman."
+
+"Oh, we kept him dark," returned Percival, lightly. "My cousin didn't
+want her affairs talked about. They make a nice couple, don't they?"
+
+"Ay, sir, they do. Mr. Vivian made a mistake, too, perhaps," said
+Captain Somers, with some curiosity.
+
+"We're all liable to make mistakes at times," replied Percival, smiling.
+"I don't think they've made one now, at any rate."
+
+And then he left Captain Somers, and seated himself on a chair, which
+happened to be close to the one occupied by Angela Vivian. Brian and
+Elizabeth were still within the range of his vision: although he was not
+watching them he was perfectly conscious of their movements. He saw
+Brian take Elizabeth's hand in his and raise it gently to his lips. The
+two did not know that they could be seen. Percival stifled a sigh, and
+twisted his chair round a little, so as to turn his back to them. This
+manoeuvre brought him face to face with Angela.
+
+"They look very happy and comfortable over there, don't they?" he said.
+
+"I think they will be very happy," she answered.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder." He moved restlessly in his chair, and looked
+towards the sea. "You know the story," he said. "I suppose you mean she
+will be happier with him than with me?"
+
+"She loves him," said Angela scarcely above her breath.
+
+"I suppose so," he answered, dryly. Then, after a pause--"Love is a
+mighty queer matter, it seems to me. Here have I been trying to win her
+heart for the last five years, and, just when I think I am succeeding,
+in steps a fellow whom she has never seen before, who does in a month or
+two what I failed to do in years."
+
+"They have a great deal to thank you for," said Angela.
+
+Percival shook his head.
+
+"That's a mere delusion of their generous hearts," he said. "I've been a
+selfish brute: that's all."
+
+It seemed easier to him, after this, to discuss the matter with Angela
+from every possible point of view. He told her more than he had told
+anyone in the world of the secret workings of his mind; she alone had
+any true idea of what it had cost him to give Elizabeth up. He took a
+great deal of pleasure in dissecting his own character, and it soothed
+and flattered him that she should listen with so much interest. He was
+always in a better temper when he had been talking to Angela. He did
+most of the talking--it must be owned that he liked to hear himself
+talk--and she made a perfect listener. He, in turn, amused and
+interested her very much. She had never come across a man of his type
+before. His trenchant criticisms of literature, his keen delight in
+politics, his lively argumentativeness, were charming to her. He had
+always had the knack of quarrelling with Elizabeth, even when he was
+most devoted to her; but he did not quarrel with Angela. She quieted
+him; he hardly knew how to be irritable in her presence.
+
+The story of Kitty's marriage excited his deepest ire. He was indignant
+with his sister, disgusted with Hugo Luttrell. He himself told it, with
+some rather strong expressions of anger, to Brian, who listened in
+perfect silence.
+
+"What can you say for your cousin?" said Percival, turning upon him
+fiercely. "What sort of a fellow is he? Do you consider him fit to marry
+my sister?"
+
+"No, I don't," Brian answered. "I am sorry to say so, but I don't think
+Hugo is in the least to be relied on. I have been fond of him, but----"
+
+"A screw loose somewhere, is there? I thought as much."
+
+"He may do better now that he is married," said Brian. But he felt that
+it was poor comfort.
+
+They went straight back to England, and it was curious to observe how
+naturally and continuously a certain division of the party was always
+taking place. Brian and Elizabeth were, of course, a great deal
+together; it seemed equally inevitable that Percival should pair off
+with Angela, and that Mrs. Norman, Rupert Vivian, and Mr. Fane should be
+left to entertain each other.
+
+It was on the last day of the voyage that Brian sought out Percival and
+took him by the arm. "Look here, Heron," he said. "I have never thanked
+you for what you have done for me."
+
+Percival was smoking. He took his pipe out of his mouth, and said,
+"Don't," very curtly, and then replaced the meerschaum, and puffed at it
+energetically.
+
+"But I must."
+
+"Stop," said Heron. "Don't go on till you've heard me speak." He took
+his pipe in his hand and knocked it meditatively against the bulwarks.
+"There's a great deal that might be said on both sides. Do you think
+that any of us have acted wisely or rightly throughout this business?"
+
+"I don't think I have. I think Elizabeth has."
+
+"Oh, Elizabeth. Well, she's a woman. Women have a strange sort of
+pleasure in acting properly. But I don't think that even your Elizabeth
+was quite perfect. Now, don't knock me down; she's my cousin, and I knew
+her years before you did. She's your cousin, too, by the way; but that
+does not signify. What I wanted to say was this:--We have all been more
+or less idiotic. I made a confounded fool of myself once or twice, and,
+begging your pardon, Brian, I think you did, too."
+
+"I think I did," said Brian, reflectively.
+
+"Elizabeth will take care of you now, and see that you have your due
+complement of commonsense," said Percival. "Well, look here. I've been
+wrong and I've been right at times; so have you. I have something to
+thank you for, and perhaps you feel the same sort of thing towards me. I
+think it is a pity to make a sort of profit and loss calculation as to
+which of the two has been the more wronged, or has the more need to be
+grateful. Let bygones be bygones. I want you and Elizabeth to promise me
+not to speak or think of those old days again. We can't be friends if
+you do. I was very hard on you both sometimes: and--well, you know the
+rest. If you forgive, you must also forget."
+
+Brian looked at him for a moment. "Upon my word, Percival," he said,
+warmly, "I can't imagine why she did not prefer you to me. You're quite
+the most large-hearted man I ever knew."
+
+"Oh, come, that's too strong," said Heron, carelessly. "You're a cut
+above me, you know, in every way. You will suit her admirably. As for
+me, I'm a rough, coarse sort of a fellow--a newspaper correspondent, a
+useful literary hack--that's all. I never quite understood until--until
+lately--what my position was in the eyes of the world."
+
+"Why, I thought you considered your profession a very high one," said
+Brian.
+
+"So I do. Only I'm at the bottom of the tree, and I want to be at the
+top."
+
+There was a pause. A little doubt was visible upon Brian's face:
+Percival saw it and understood.
+
+"There's one thing you needn't do," he said, with a sort of haughty
+abruptness. "Don't offer me help of any kind. I won't stand it. I don't
+want charity. If I could be glad that I was not going to marry
+Elizabeth, it would be because she is a rich woman. I wonder,
+by-the-bye, what Dino Vasari is going to do."
+
+They had not heard of Dino's death when Percival left England.
+
+"If I were you," Percival went on, "I should not stand on ceremony. I
+should get a special licence in London and marry her at once. You'll
+have a bother about settlements and provisions and compromises without
+end, if you don't."
+
+Brian smiled, and even coloured a little at the proposition. "I could
+not ask her to do it," he said.
+
+"Then I'll ask her," said Percival with his inimitable _sang-froid_. "In
+the very nick of time, here she comes. Mademoiselle, I was talking about
+you."
+
+Elizabeth smiled. The colour had come back to her cheeks, the brightness
+to her eyes. She was the incarnation of splendid health and happiness.
+Percival looked from her to Brian, remarking silently the gravity and
+nobleness of his expression and the singular refinement of his features,
+which could be seen so much more plainly, now that he had returned to
+his old fashion of wearing a moustache and small pointed beard, instead
+of the disfiguring mass of hair with which he had once striven to
+disguise his face. Percival was clean shaven, except for the heavy,
+black moustache, which he fingered as he spoke.
+
+"You are my children by adoption," he said, cheerfully, "and I am going
+to speak to you as a grandfather might. Elizabeth, my opinion is, that
+if you want to avoid vexatious delays, you had better get married to
+this gentleman here before you present yourself in Scotland at all. You
+have no idea how much it would simplify matters. Brian won't suggest
+such a thing; he is afraid you will think that he wants to make ducks
+and drakes of your money----"
+
+"His money," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Well, his or yours, or that Italian fellow's--I don't see that it
+matters much. Why don't you stop in London, get a special licence, and
+be married from Vivian's house? I know he would be delighted."
+
+"It is easy to make the suggestion," said Brian, "but perhaps Elizabeth
+would not like such haste."
+
+"I will do what you like," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Let me congratulate you," remarked Percival to Brian; "you are about to
+marry that treasure amongst wives--a woman who tries to please you and
+not herself. Well, I have broken the ice, settle the matter as you
+please."
+
+"No, Percival, don't go," said Elizabeth. But he laughed, shook his
+head, and left them to themselves.
+
+As usual he went to Angela, and allowed himself to look as gloomy as he
+chose. She asked him what was the matter.
+
+"I have been playing the heavy father, and giving away the bride," he
+said. And then he told her what he had advised.
+
+"You want to have it over," she said, looking at him with her soft,
+serious eyes.
+
+"To tell the truth, I believe I do."
+
+"It is hard on you, now."
+
+"Not a bit," said Percival, taking a seat beside her. "I ought not to
+mind. If I were Luttrell, I probably should glory in self-sacrifice, and
+say I didn't mind. Unfortunately I do. But nothing will drive me to say
+that it is hard. All's fair in love and war. Brian has proved himself
+the better man."
+
+"Not the stronger man," said Angela, almost involuntarily.
+
+"You think not? I don't think I have been strong! I have been wretchedly
+weak sometimes. Ah, there they come; they have settled it between them.
+They look bright, don't they?"
+
+Angela made no answer, she felt a little indignant with Brian and
+Elizabeth for looking bright. It was decidedly inconsiderate towards
+Percival.
+
+But Percival made no show of his wound to anybody except Angela. He
+seemed heartily glad when he heard that Elizabeth had consented to the
+speedy marriage in London, he was as cheerful in manner as usual, he
+held his head high, and ate and drank and laughed in his accustomed way.
+Even Elizabeth was deceived, and thought he was cured of his love for
+her. But the restless gleam of his eye and the dark fold between his
+brow, in spite of his merriment, told a different tale to the two who
+understood him best--Brian and Angela.
+
+The marriage took place from Rupert's house, according to Percival's
+suggestion. It was a quiet wedding, and the guests were very various in
+quality. Mr. Heron came from Scotland for the occasion, Rupert and his
+sister, Mrs. Norman, Captain Somers and the two seamen--Jackson and
+Mason, were all present. Percival alone did not come. He had said
+nothing about his intention of staying away, but sent a note of excuse
+at the last moment. He had resumed his newspaper work, and a sudden call
+upon him required instant attention. Elizabeth was deeply disappointed.
+She had looked upon his presence at her wedding as the last assurance of
+his forgiveness, and she and Brian both felt that something was lacking
+from their felicity when Percival did not come.
+
+They started for Scotland as soon as the wedding was over, and it was
+not until the following week that Brian received a bulky letter which
+had been waiting for him at the place where he had directed Dino Vasari
+to address his letters. He opened it eagerly, expecting to find a long
+letter from Dino himself. He took out only the announcement of his
+death.
+
+There was, however, a very lengthy document from Padre Cristoforo, which
+Brian and Elizabeth read with burning hearts and tearful or indignant
+eyes. In this letter, Padre Cristoforo set forth, calmly and
+dispassionately, what he knew of poor Dino's story, and there were many
+things in it which Brian learnt now for the first time. But the Prior
+said nothing about Elizabeth. When Brian had read the letter, he leaned
+over the table, and took his wife's hand as he spoke.
+
+"Did you ever see him?" he asked.
+
+"I saw a young man with Mr. Colquhoun on the day when he came to
+Netherglen. But I hardly remember his face."
+
+"You would have loved him?"
+
+"Yes," she said, "for your sake."
+
+"And now, what shall we do? Now we are on our guard against Hugo. To
+think that any man should be so vile!"
+
+"Our poor little Kitty!" murmured Elizabeth. "Surely she has found out
+her mistake. I could never understand that marriage. She looked very
+unhappy afterwards. But we were all unhappy then."
+
+"I had forgotten what happiness was like until I saw your face again,"
+said Brian.
+
+"But about Hugo, love?" she said, replying to his glance with a smile,
+which showed that for her at least the fullest earthly bliss had been
+attained. "Can we not go to Netherglen and send him away? I do not like
+to think that he is with your mother."
+
+"Nor I," said Brian. "Let us go and see."
+
+That very evening they set out for Netherglen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, Percival Heron was calling at the Vivians' house in
+Kensington. Angela, who had hitherto seen him in very rough and ready
+costume, was a little surprised when he appeared one afternoon attired
+in clothes of the most faultless cut, and looking as handsome and idle
+as if he had never done anything in his life but pay morning calls. He
+had come, perhaps by accident, perhaps by design, on the day when she
+was at home to visitors from three to six; and, although she had not
+been very long in London, her drawing-room was crowded with visitors.
+The story of the expedition to the Rocas Reef had made a sensation in
+London society; everybody was anxious to see the heroes and heroines of
+the story, and Percival soon found himself as much a centre of
+attraction as Angela herself.
+
+She watched him keenly, wondering whether he would be annoyed by the
+attention he was receiving; but his face wore a tranquil smile of
+amusement which reassured her. Once he made a movement as if to go, but
+she managed to say to him in passing:--
+
+"Do not go yet unless you are obliged. Rupert is out with Mr. Fane."
+
+"I did not come to see Rupert," said Percival, with a laugh in his
+brilliant eyes.
+
+"I have something to say to you, too," she went on seriously.
+
+"Really? Then I will wait."
+
+He had to wait some time before the room was cleared of guests. When at
+last they found themselves alone, the day was closing in, and the wood
+fire cast strange flickering lights and shadows over the walls. The room
+was full of the scent of violets and white hyacinths. Percival leaned
+back in an easy chair, with an air of luxurious enjoyment. And yet he
+was not quite as much at his ease as he looked.
+
+"You had something to say to me," he began, boldly. "I know perfectly
+well what it is. You think I ought to have come to the wedding, and you
+want to tell me so."
+
+"Your conscience seems to say more than I should venture to," said
+Angela, smiling.
+
+"I had an engagement, as I wrote in my letter."
+
+"One that could not be broken?"
+
+"To tell the truth, I was not in an amiable mood. If I had come I should
+probably have hurt their feelings more than by staying away. I should
+have said something savage. Well,"--as he saw her lips move--"what were
+you going to say?"
+
+"Something very severe."
+
+"Say it by all means."
+
+"That you are trying to excuse your own selfishness by the plea of want
+of self-control. The excuse is worse than the action itself."
+
+"I am very selfish, I know," said Percival, complacently. "I'm not at
+all ashamed of it. Why should I not consult my own comfort?"
+
+"Why should you add one drop to the bitterness of Brian's cup?"
+
+"I like that," said Percival, in an ironical tone. "It shows the extent
+of a woman's sense of justice. I beg your pardon, Miss Vivian, for
+saying so. But in my opinion Brian is a lucky fellow."
+
+"You forget----"
+
+"What do I forget? This business about his identity is all happily over,
+and he is married to the woman of his choice. I wish I had half his
+luck!"
+
+"You have forgotten, Mr. Heron," said Angela, in a tone that showed how
+deeply she was moved, "that Brian has had a great sorrow--a great loss.
+I do not think life can ever be the same to him again--as it can never
+be the same to me--since--Richard--died."
+
+Her voice sank and faltered. For an instant there was a silence, in
+which Percival felt shocked and embarrassed at his own want of thought.
+He had forgotten. He had been thinking solely of Brian's relations with
+Elizabeth. It had not occurred to him for a long time that Angela had
+once been on the point of marriage with the man--the brother--whom Brian
+Luttrell had shot dead at Netherglen.
+
+He said, "I beg your pardon," in a constrained, reluctant voice, and sat
+in silence, feeling that he ought to go, yet not liking to tear himself
+away. For the first time he was struck by the beauty of Angela's
+patience. How she must have suffered! he thought to himself, as he
+remembered her sisterly care of Brian, her silence about her own great
+loss, her quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And he had prosed by the
+hour to this woman about his own griefs and love-troubles! What an
+egotist she must think him! What a fool! Percival felt hot about the
+ears with self-contempt. He rose to go, feeling that he should not
+venture to present himself to her again very easily. He did not even
+like to say that he was ashamed of his lapse of memory.
+
+Angela rose, too. She would have spoken sooner, but she had been
+swallowing down the rising tears. She very seldom mentioned Richard
+Luttrell now.
+
+They were standing, still silent, in this attitude of expectancy--each
+thinking that the other would speak first--when the door opened, and Mr.
+Vivian came in. Percival hailed his arrival with a feeling between
+impatience and relief. Rupert wanted him to stay, but he said that he
+must go at once; business called him away.
+
+"There is a letter for you, Angela," said Vivian. "It was on the
+hall-table. Fane gave it me. I hope my sister has been scolding you for
+not coming to the wedding, Heron. It went off very well, but we wanted
+you. Have you heard the latest news from Egypt?"
+
+And then they launched into a discussion of politics, from which they
+were presently diverted by a remark made by Angela as she laid her hand
+gently on Rupert's arm.
+
+"Excuse me," she said. "I think I had better show both you and Mr. Heron
+this letter. It is from Mrs. Hugo Luttrell."
+
+"From Kitty!" said the brother. Rupert's face changed a little, but he
+did not speak. Angela handed the letter first to Percival.
+
+"Dear Miss Vivian," Kitty's letter began, "I am sorry to trouble you,
+but I want to know whether you will give a message for me to Mr. Brian
+Luttrell. Mrs. Luttrell is a little better, and is able to say one or
+two words. She calls for 'Brian' almost incessantly. I should be so glad
+if he would come, and Elizabeth too. If you know where they are, will
+you tell them so? But they must not say that I have written to you. And
+please do not answer this letter. If they cannot come, could not you? It
+is asking a great deal, I know; but Mrs. Luttrell would be happier if
+you were with her, and I should be so glad, too. I have nobody here whom
+I can trust, and I do not know what to do. I think you would help me if
+you knew all.--Yours very truly,
+
+    "Catherine Luttrell."
+
+Percival read it through aloud, then laid it down in silence. "What does
+she mean?" he said, perplexedly.
+
+"It means that there is something wrong," answered Rupert. "Are your
+people at Strathleckie now, Percival?"
+
+"No, they are in London."
+
+"Why don't you go down? You have not seen her since her marriage?"
+
+"Hum. I haven't time."
+
+"Then I will go."
+
+"And I with you," said Angela, quickly. But Rupert shook his head.
+
+"No, dear, not you. We will write for Brian and Elizabeth. And, excuse
+me, Percival, but if your sister is in any difficulty, I think it would
+be only kind if you went to her assistance."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Heron," said Angela. "Do go. Do help her if you can."
+
+And this time Percival did not refuse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+KITTY'S WARNING.
+
+
+"It's an odd thing," said Percival, with a puzzled look, "that Kitty
+won't see me."
+
+"Won't see you?" ejaculated Rupert.
+
+They had arrived at Dunmuir the previous day, and located themselves at
+the hotel. Arthur Fane had come with them, but he was at present in the
+smoking-room, and the two friends had their parlour to themselves.
+
+"Exactly. Sent word she was ill."
+
+"Through whom?"
+
+"A servant. A man whom I have seen with Luttrell several times. Stevens,
+they call him."
+
+"Did you see Hugo Luttrell?"
+
+"No. I heard his voice."
+
+"He was in the house then?"
+
+"Yes. I suppose he did not care to see me."
+
+"You are curiously unsuspicious for a man of your experience," said
+Vivian, resting his head on one hand with a sort of sigh.
+
+Percival started to his feet. "You think that it was a blind?" he cried.
+
+"No doubt of it. He does not want you to see your sister."
+
+"What for? Good Heavens! you don't mean to insinuate that he does not
+treat her well?"
+
+"No. I don't mean to insinuate anything."
+
+"Then tell me in plain English what you do mean."
+
+"I can't, Percival. I have vague suspicions, that is all."
+
+"It was a love-match," said Percival, after a moment's pause. "They
+ought to be happy together."
+
+Rupert was silent a moment; then he said, in a low voice--
+
+"I doubt whether it was a love-match exactly."
+
+"What in Heaven or earth do you mean?" said Percival, staring. "What
+else could it be?"
+
+But before Vivian could make any response, young Fane entered the room
+with the air of one who has had good news.
+
+"Mr. Colquhoun asks me to tell you that he has just had a letter from
+Mr. Brian Luttrell, sir. He is to meet Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell at the
+station at nine o'clock, but their arrival is not to be made generally
+known. Only hearing that you were here, he thought it better to let you
+know."
+
+"They could not have got Angela's letter," said Rupert. "I wonder why
+they are coming. It is very opportune."
+
+"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun.
+I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me
+something about affairs at Netherglen."
+
+He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on
+his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his
+geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.
+
+"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by
+surprise now."
+
+The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.
+
+"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the
+pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.
+
+"Thanks. That's a compliment."
+
+"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous
+one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with
+you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his
+hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and
+resumed, in an airier tone than ever.
+
+"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't
+see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says
+that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you
+always wanted me to do that, I remember."
+
+"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and
+swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in
+your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man,
+didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets
+and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your
+brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure
+childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when
+we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But
+you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."
+
+Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of
+great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad,
+but the defiant bitterness disappeared.
+
+"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course,
+I've--I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I
+don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk.
+But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."
+
+Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up
+for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering
+tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit,
+and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went
+away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a
+confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian
+had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly
+about Dunmuir till they came back.
+
+Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to
+Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance,
+although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured
+by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see
+visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to
+drive away, baffled and impatient.
+
+"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running
+close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch
+look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"
+
+"Yes, very bright."
+
+"And the sky is clear?"
+
+"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the
+north-west; we shall have rain to-night."
+
+They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating
+tone:--
+
+"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a
+little way behind us."
+
+"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she
+young?"
+
+"Very young, very slight. She is close to us now," said Fane, as he
+checked his horse.
+
+Rupert bent forward with a look of eager expectation. He heard a
+footstep on the road; surely he knew it? He knew the voice well enough
+as it spoke his name.
+
+"Mr. Vivian!"
+
+"Kitty!" he said, eagerly. Then, in a soberer tone: "I beg your pardon,
+Mrs. Luttrell, I have just been calling at Netherglen and heard that you
+were ill."
+
+"I am not ill, but I do not see visitors," said Kitty, in a constrained
+voice. "I wanted to speak to you; I saw you from the garden. I thought I
+should never make you hear."
+
+"Will you wait one moment until I get down from my high perch? Fane will
+help me; I feel rather helpless at present."
+
+"Can you turn back with me for a few minutes?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+They walked for a few steps side by side, he with his hand resting on
+her arm for the sake of guidance. The soft spring breezes played upon
+their faces; the scent of wild flowers came to their nostrils, the song
+of building birds to their ears. But they noted none of these things.
+
+Vivian stopped short at last, and spoke authoritatively.
+
+"Now, Kitty, what does this mean? Why can you not see your brother and
+me when we call upon you?"
+
+"My husband does not wish it," she said, faintly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know." Then, in a more decided tone: "He likes to thwart my
+wishes, that is all."
+
+"That was why you warned Angela not to answer your letter?"
+
+"Yes." Then, under her breath:--"I was afraid."
+
+"But, my child, what are you afraid of?"
+
+She uttered a short, stifled sob.
+
+"I can't tell you," she said.
+
+"Surely," said Rupert, "he would not hurt you?"
+
+"No," she said, "perhaps not. I do not know."
+
+There was a dreariness in her tone which went to Rupert's heart.
+
+"Take courage," he said. "Brian and Elizabeth will be in Dunmuir
+to-night. Shall they come to see you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" cried Kitty. "Let them come at once--at once, tell
+them. You will see them, will you not?" She had forgotten Rupert's
+blindness. "If they come, I shall be prevented from meeting them,
+perhaps; I know I shall not be allowed to talk to them alone. Tell Mr.
+Luttrell to come and live at Netherglen. Tell him to turn us out. I
+shall be thankful to him all my life if he turns us out. I want to go!"
+
+"You want to leave Netherglen?"
+
+"Yes, yes, as quick as possible. Tell him that Mrs. Luttrell wants
+him--that she is sorry for having been so harsh to him. I know it. I can
+see it in her eyes. I tell her everything that I hear about him, and I
+know she likes it. She is pleased that he has married Elizabeth. Tell
+him to come to-night."
+
+"To-night?" said Rupert. He began to fear that her troubles had affected
+her brain.
+
+"Yes, to-night. Remember to tell him so. To-morrow may be too late. Now,
+go, go. He may come home at any moment; and if he saw you"--she caught
+her breath with a sob--"if he saw you here, I think that he would kill
+me."
+
+"Kitty, Kitty! It cannot be so bad as this."
+
+"Indeed, it is--and worse than you know," she said, bitterly. "Now let
+me lead you back. Thank you for coming. And tell Brian--be sure you tell
+Brian to come home to-night. It is his right, nobody can keep him out.
+But not alone. Tell him not to come alone."
+
+It was with these words ringing in his ears that Rupert was driven back
+to Dunmuir.
+
+Brian and his wife arrived about nine o'clock in the evening, as they
+had said in the letter which Mr. Colquhoun had received. Vivian, wrought
+up by this time to a high pitch of excitement, did not wait five minutes
+before pouring the whole of his story into Brian's ear. Brian's eyes
+flashed, his face looked stern as he listened to Kitty's message.
+
+"The hound!" he said. "The cur! I expected almost as much. I know now
+what I never dreamt of before. He is a cowardly villain, and I will
+expose him this very night."
+
+"Remember poor Kitty," said Elizabeth.
+
+"I will spare her as much as possible, but I will not spare him. Do you
+know, Vivian, that he tried to murder Dino Vasari? There is not a
+blacker villain on the face of the earth. And to think that all this
+time my mother has been at his mercy!"
+
+"His mother!" ejaculated Mr. Colquhoun in Percival's ear, with a chuckle
+of extreme satisfaction, "I'm glad he's come back to that nomenclature.
+Blood's thicker than water; and I'll stand to it, as I always have done,
+that this Brian's the right one after all."
+
+"It's the only one there is, now," said Percival, "Vasari is dead."
+
+"Poor laddie! Well, he was just too good for this wicked world," said
+the lawyer, with great cheerfulness, "and it would be a pity to grudge
+him to another. And what are you after now, Brian?"
+
+"I'm going up to Netherglen."
+
+"Without your dinner?"
+
+"What do I care for dinner when my mother's life may be in danger?" said
+Brian.
+
+"Tut, tut! Why should it be in danger to-night of all nights in the
+year?" said Mr. Colquhoun, testily.
+
+"Why? Can you ask? Have you not told me yourself that my mother made a
+will before her illness, leaving all that she possessed to Hugo? Depend
+upon it, he is anxious to get Netherglen. When he hears that I have come
+back he will be afraid. He knows that I can expose him most thoroughly.
+He is quite capable of trying to put an end to my mother's life
+to-night. And that is what your sister meant."
+
+"Don't forget her warning. Don't go alone," said Vivian.
+
+"You'll come with me, Percival," said Brian. "And you, Fane."
+
+"If Fane and Percival go, you must let me go, too," remarked Vivian, but
+Brian shook his head, and Elizabeth interposed.
+
+"Will you stay with us, Mr. Vivian? Do not leave Mr. Colquhoun and me
+alone."
+
+"I'll not be left behind," said Mr. Colquhoun, smartly; "you may depend
+upon that, Mrs. Brian. You and Mr. Vivian must take care of my wife; but
+I shall go, because it strikes me that I shall be needed. Four of us,
+that'll fill the brougham. And we'll put the constable, Macpherson, on
+the box."
+
+"I must resign myself to be useless," said Vivian, with a smile which
+had some pain in it.
+
+"Useless, my dear fellow? We should never have been warned but for you,"
+answered Brian, giving him a warm grasp of the hand before he hurried
+off.
+
+In a very short time the carriage was ready. The gentlemen had hastily
+swallowed some refreshment, and were eager to start. Brian turned back
+for a moment to bid his wife farewell, and received a whispered caution
+with the kiss that she pressed upon his face.
+
+"Spare Kitty as much as you can, love. And take care of your dear self"
+
+Then they set out for Netherglen.
+
+The drive was almost a silent one. Each member of the party was more or
+less absorbed in his own thoughts, and Brian's face wore a look of stern
+determination which seemed to impose quietude upon the others. It was he
+who took command of the expedition, as naturally as Percival had taken
+command of the sailors upon the Rocas Reef.
+
+"We will not drive up to the house," he said, as they came in sight of
+the white gates of Netherglen. "We should only be refused admittance. I
+have told the driver where to stop."
+
+"It's a blustering night," said Mr. Colquhoun.
+
+"All the better for us," replied Brian. "We are not so likely to be
+overheard."
+
+"Why, you don't think that they would keep us out, do you, Brian, my
+lad? Hugo hasn't the right to do that, you know. He's never said me nay
+to my face as yet."
+
+"Depend upon it, he won't show," said Percival, contemptuously. "He'll
+pretend to be asleep, or away from home, or something of the sort."
+
+"I am sure that he will try to keep us out, if he can," said Brian,
+"and, therefore, I am not going to give him the chance. I think I can
+get into the house by a side door."
+
+The carriage had drawn up in the shade of some overhanging beech trees
+whilst they were speaking. The four men got out, and stood for a moment
+in the road. The night was a rough one, as Mr. Colquhoun had said; the
+wind blew in fierce but fitful gusts; the sky was covered with heavy,
+scurrying clouds.
+
+Every now and then the wind sent a great dash of rain into their faces,
+it seemed as if a tempest were preparing, and the elements were about to
+be let loose.
+
+"We are like thieves," said Heron, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't
+care for this style of work. I should walk boldly up to the door and
+give a thundering peal with the knocker."
+
+"You don't know Hugo as well as I do," responded Brian.
+
+"Thank Heaven, no. Are you armed, Fane?"
+
+"I've got a stick," said Fane, with gusto.
+
+"And I've got a revolver. Now for the fray."
+
+"We shall not want arms of that kind," said Brian. "If you are ready,
+please follow me."
+
+He led the way through the gates and down the drive, then turned off at
+right angles and pursued his way along a narrow path, across which the
+wet laurels almost touched, and had to be pushed back. They reached at
+last the side entrance of which Brian had spoken. He tried the handle,
+and gently shook the door; but it did not move. He tried it a second
+time--with no result.
+
+"Locked!" said Percival, significantly.
+
+"That does not matter," responded Brian. "Look here; but do not speak."
+
+He felt in the darkness for one of the panels of the door. Evidently he
+knew that there was some hidden spring. The panel suddenly flew back,
+leaving a space of two feet square, through which it was easy for Brian
+to insert his hand and arm, draw back a bolt, and turn the key which had
+been left in the lock. It was a door which he and Richard had known of
+old. They had kept the secret, however, to themselves; and it was
+possible that Hugo had never learned it. Even Mr. Colquhoun uttered a
+faint inarticulate murmur of surprise.
+
+The door was open before them, but they were still standing outside in
+the wet shrubbery, their feet on the damp grass, the evergreens
+trickling water in their faces, when an unexpected sound fell upon their
+ears.
+
+Somewhere, in another part of the building--probably in the front of the
+house--one of the upper windows was thrown violently open. Then a
+woman's voice, raised in shrill tones of fear or pain, rang out between
+the fitful gusts of wind and rain.
+
+"Help! Help! Help!"
+
+There was no time to lose. The four men threw caution to the winds, and
+dashed headlong into the winding passages of the dark old house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Rupert Vivian drove away from Netherglen, Kitty stood for some time
+in the lane where they had been walking, and gazed after him with
+painful, anxious interest. The dog-cart was well out of sight before she
+turned, with a heavy sigh, preparing herself to walk back to the house.
+And then, for the first time, she became aware that her husband was
+standing at some little distance from her, and was coolly watching her,
+with folded arms and an evil smile upon his face.
+
+"I have been wondering how long you meant to stand there, watching
+Vivian drive away," he said, advancing slowly to meet her. "Did you ask
+him about his wife?"
+
+Kitty thought of her conversation with Rupert at Strathleckie--a
+conversation of which she had kept Hugo in ignorance--and coloured
+vividly.
+
+"His wife is dead," she said, in a smothered tone.
+
+"Oh, then, you did ask him?" said Hugo, looking at her. "Is that what he
+came to tell you?"
+
+Kitty did not reply. She had thrown a shawl over her head before coming
+out, and she stood drawing the edges of it closer across her bosom with
+nervous, twitching fingers and averted face.
+
+"Why did you come out in that way?" queried her husband. "You look like
+a madwoman in that shawl. You looked more like one than ever when you
+ran after that dog-cart, waving your hands for Vivian to stop. He did
+not want to see you or to be forced into an interview."
+
+"Then you have been watching me?"
+
+"I always watch you. Women are such fools that they require watching.
+What did you want to speak to Vivian about?"
+
+"I will not tell you," said Kitty, suddenly growing pale.
+
+"Then it is something that you ought not to have said. I understand your
+ways by this time. Come here, close to me." She came like a frightened
+child. "Look at me, kiss me." She obeyed, after some faint show of
+reluctance. He put his arm round her and kissed her several times, on
+cheek and brow and lips. "You don't like that," he said, releasing her
+at last with a smile. "That is why I do it. You are mine now, remember,
+not Vivian's. Now tell me what you said to him."
+
+"Never!" said Kitty, with a gasp.
+
+A change passed over Hugo's face.
+
+"Who is with Vivian and your brother?" he demanded "Has Brian Luttrell
+come back?"
+
+But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm,
+and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from
+him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen
+anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to
+himself. "I must finish my work to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+MRS. LUTTRELL'S ROOM.
+
+
+Kitty made her way to her own room, and was not surprised to find that
+in a few moments Hugo followed her thither. She was sitting in a low
+chair, striving to command her agitated thoughts, and school herself
+into some semblance of tranquility, when he entered. She fully expected
+that he would try again to force from her the history of her interview
+with Vivian, but he did nothing of the kind. He threw himself into a
+chair opposite to her, and looked at her in silence, while she tried her
+best not to see his face at all. Those long, lustrous eyes, that low
+brow and perfectly-modelled mouth and chin, had grown hideous in her
+sight.
+
+But when he spoke he took her completely by surprise.
+
+"You had better begin to pack up your things," he said. "We shall go to
+the South of France either this week or next."
+
+"And leave Mrs. Luttrell?" breathed Kitty.
+
+His lips stretched themselves into something meant for a smile, but it
+was a very joyless smile.
+
+"And leave Mrs. Luttrell," he repeated.
+
+"But, Hugo, what will people say?"
+
+"They won't find fault," he answered. "The matter will be simple enough
+when the time comes. Pack your boxes, and leave the rest to me."
+
+"She is much better, certainly," hesitated Kitty, "but I do not like
+leaving her to servants."
+
+"She is no better," said Hugo, rising, and turning a malevolent look
+upon her. "She is worse. Don't let me hear you say again that she is
+better. She is dying."
+
+With these words he left the room. Kitty leaned back in her chair, for
+she was seized with a fit of trembling that made her unable to rise or
+speak. Something in the tone of Hugo's speech had frightened her. She
+was unreasonably suspicious, perhaps, but she had developed a great fear
+of Hugo's evil designs. He had shown her plainly enough that he had no
+principle, no conscience, no sense of shame. And she feared for Mrs.
+Luttrell.
+
+Her fears did not go very far. She thought that Hugo was capable of
+sending away the nurse, or of depriving Mrs. Luttrell of care and
+comfort to such an extent as to shorten her life. She could not suspect
+Hugo of an intention to commit actual, flagrant crime. Yet some
+undefined terror of him had made her beg Vivian to tell Brian and his
+wife to come home as soon as possible. She did not know what might
+happen. She was afraid; and at any rate she wanted to secure her husband
+against temptation. He might thank her for it afterwards, perhaps,
+though Kitty did not think that he ever would.
+
+She went upstairs after dinner to sit with Mrs. Luttrell, as she usually
+did at that hour. The poor woman was perceptibly better. The look of
+recognition in her eyes was not so painfully beseeching as it had been
+hitherto; the hand which Kitty took in hers gently returned her
+pressure. She muttered the only word that her lips seemed able to
+speak:--"Brian! Brian!"
+
+"He is coming," said Kitty, bending her head so that her lips almost
+touched the withered cheek. "He is coming--coming soon."
+
+A wonderful light of satisfaction stole into the melancholy eyes. Again
+she pressed Kitty's hand. She was content.
+
+The nurse generally returned to Mrs. Luttrell's room after her supper;
+and Kitty waited for some time, wondering why she was so long in coming.
+She rang the bell at last and enquired for her. The maid replied that
+Mrs. Samson, the nurse, had been taken ill and had gone to bed. Kitty
+then asked for the housekeeper, and the maid went away to summon her.
+
+Again Kitty waited; but no housekeeper came.
+
+She was about to ring the bell a second time, when her husband entered
+the room. "What do you want with the housekeeper at this time of night?"
+he asked, carelessly.
+
+Kitty explained. Hugo raised his eyebrows. "Oh, is that all?" he said.
+"Really, Kitty, you make too much fuss about my aunt. She will do well
+enough. I won't have poor old Shairp called up from her bed to sit here
+till morning."
+
+"But somebody must stay," said Kitty, whom her husband had drawn into
+the little dressing-room. "Mrs. Luttrell must not be left alone."
+
+"She shall not be left alone, my dear; I'll take care of that. I have
+seen Samson, hearing that she was ill, and find that it is only a fit of
+sickness, which is passing off. She will be here in half-an-hour; or, if
+not, Shairp can be called."
+
+"Then I will stay here until one of them comes," said Kitty.
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind. You will go to bed at once. It is ten
+o'clock, and I don't want you to spoil that charming complexion of yours
+by late hours." He spoke with a sort of sneer, but immediately passed
+his finger down her delicate cheek with a tenderly caressing gesture, as
+if to make up for the previous hardness of his tone. Kitty shrank away
+from him, but he only smiled and continued softly: "Those pretty eyes
+must not be dimmed by want of sleep. Go to bed, _ma belle_, and dream of
+me."
+
+"Let me stay for a little while," entreated Kitty. "If Mrs. Samson comes
+in half-an-hour I shall not be tired. Just till then, Hugo."
+
+"Not at all, my little darling." His tone was growing quite playful, and
+he even imprinted a light kiss upon her cheek as he went on. "I will
+wait here myself until Samson comes, and if she is not better I will
+summon Mrs. Shairp. Will that not satisfy you?"
+
+"Why should you stay?" said Kitty, in a whisper. A look of dread had
+come into her eyes.
+
+"Why should I not?" smiled Hugo. "Aunt Margaret likes to have me with
+her, and she is not likely to want anything just now. Run away, my fair
+Kitty. I will call you if I really need help."
+
+What did Kitty suspect? She turned white and suddenly put her arms round
+her husband's neck, bringing his beautiful dark face down to her own.
+
+"Let me stay," she murmured in his ear. "I am afraid. I don't know
+exactly what I am afraid of; but I want to stay. I can't leave her
+to-night."
+
+He put her away from him almost roughly. A sinister look crossed his
+face.
+
+"You are a little fool: you always were," he said; fiercely. Then he
+tried to regain the old smoothness of tongue which so seldom failed him;
+but this time he found it difficult. "You are nervous," he said. "You
+have been sitting in a sick-room too long: I must not let you over-tire
+yourself. You will be better when we leave Netherglen. Go and dream of
+blue skies and sunny shores: we will see my native land together, Kitty,
+and forget this desert of a place. There, go now. I will take care of
+Aunt Margaret."
+
+He put her out at the door, still with the silky, caressing manner that
+she distrusted, still with the false smile stereotyped upon his face.
+Then he went back into the dressing-room and closed the door.
+
+Kitty went to her own room, and changed her evening dress for a
+dressing-gown of soft, dark red cashmere which did not rustle as she
+moved. She was resolved against going to bed, at any rate until Hugo had
+left Mrs. Luttrell's room. She sat down and waited.
+
+The clock struck eleven. She could bear the suspense no longer. She went
+out into the passage and listened at the door of Mrs. Luttrell's room.
+Not a sound: not a movement to be heard.
+
+She stole away to the room which the nurse occupied. Mrs. Samson was
+lying on her bed, breathing heavily: she seemed to be in a sound sleep.
+Kitty shook her by the arm; but the woman only moaned and moved
+uneasily, then snored more stertorously than before. The thought crossed
+Kitty's mind that, perhaps, Hugo had not wanted Mrs. Samson to be awake.
+
+She made up her mind to go to the housekeeper's room. It was situated in
+that wing of the house which Kitty had once learnt to know only too
+well. For some reason or other Hugo had insisted lately upon the
+servants taking up their sleeping quarters in this wing; and although
+Mrs. Shairp, who had returned to Netherglen upon his marriage, protested
+that it was very inconvenient--"because no sound from the other side of
+the house could reach their ears"--(how well Kitty remembered her saying
+this!) yet even she had been obliged to give way to Hugo's will.
+
+Kitty went to the door that communicated with the wing. She turned the
+handle: it would not open. She shook it, and even knocked, but she dared
+not make much noise. It was not a door that could be fastened or
+unfastened from inside. Someone in the main part of the house,
+therefore, must necessarily have turned the key and taken it away. One
+thing was evident: the servants had been locked into their own rooms,
+and it was quite impossible for Mrs. Shairp to come to her mistress's
+room, unless the person who fastened the door came and unfastened it
+again.
+
+"I wonder that he did not lock me in," said Kitty to herself, wringing
+her little hands as she came hopelessly down the great staircase into
+the hall, and then up again to her own room. She had no doubt but that
+it was Hugo who had done this thing for some end of his own. "What does
+he mean? What is it that he does not want us to know?"
+
+She reached her own room as she asked this question of herself. The door
+resisted her hand as the door of the servants' wing had done. It was
+locked, too. Hugo--or someone else--had turned the key, thinking that
+she was safe in her own room, and wishing to keep her a prisoner until
+morning.
+
+Kitty's blood ran cold. Something was wrong: some dark intention must be
+in Hugo's mind, or he would not have planned so carefully to keep the
+household out of Mrs. Luttrell's room. She remembered that she had seen
+a light in a bed-room near Hugo's own--the room where Stevens usually
+slept. Should she rouse him and ask for his assistance? No: she knew
+that this man was a mere tool of Hugo's; she could not trust him to help
+her against her husband's will. There was nothing for it but to do what
+she could, without help from anyone. She would be brave for Mrs.
+Luttrell's sake, although she had not been brave for her own.
+
+Oh, why had she not made her warning to Vivian a little stronger? Why
+had Brian Luttrell not come home that night to Netherglen? It was too
+late to expect him now.
+
+Her heart beat fast and her hands trembled, but she went resolutely
+enough to the dressing-room from which Hugo had done his best to exclude
+her. The door was slightly ajar: oh wonderful good fortune! and the fire
+was out. The room was in darkness; and the door leading into Mrs.
+Luttrell's apartment stood open--she had a full view of its warmly
+lighted space.
+
+She remained motionless for a few minutes: then seeing her opportunity,
+she glided behind the thick curtain that screened the window. Here she
+could see the great white bed with its heavy hangings of crimson damask,
+and the head of the sick woman in its frilled cap lying on the pillows:
+she could see also her husband's face and figure, as he stood beside the
+little table on which Mrs. Luttrell's medicine bottles were usually
+kept, and she shivered at the sight.
+
+His face wore its craftiest and most sinister expression. His eyes were
+narrowed like those of a cat about to spring: the lines of his face were
+set in a look of cruel malice, which Kitty had learned to know. What was
+he doing? He had a tumbler in one hand, and a tiny phial in the other:
+he was measuring out some drops of a fluid into the glass.
+
+He set down the little bottle on the table, and held up the tumbler to
+the light. Then he took a carafe and poured a tea-spoonful of water on
+the liquid. Kitty could see the phial on the table very distinctly. It
+bore in red letters the inscription: "Poison." And again she asked
+herself: what was Hugo going to do?
+
+Breathlessly she watched. He smiled a little to himself, smelt the
+liquid, and held it once more towards the light, as if to judge with his
+narrowed eyes of the quantity required. Then, with a noiseless foot and
+watchful eye, he moved towards the bed, still holding the tumbler in his
+hand. He looked down for a moment at the pale and wrinkled face upon the
+pillow; then he spoke in a peculiarly smooth and ingratiating tone of
+voice.
+
+"Aunt Margaret," he said, "I have brought you something to make you
+sleep."
+
+He had placed the glass to her lips, when a movement in the next room
+made him start and lift his eyes. In another moment his wife's hands
+were on his arm, and her eyes were blazing into his own. The liquor in
+the glass was spilt upon the bed. Hugo turned deadly pale.
+
+"What do you mean? What do you want?" he said, with a look of mingled
+rage and terror. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"I have come to save her--from you." She was not afraid, now that the
+words were said, now that she had seen the guilty look upon his face.
+She confronted him steadily; she placed herself between him and the bed.
+Hugo uttered a low but emphatic malediction on her "meddlesome folly."
+
+"Why are you not in your room?" he said. "I locked you in."
+
+"I was not there. Thank God that I was not."
+
+"And why should you thank God?" said Hugo, who stood looking at her with
+an ugly expression of baffled cunning on his face. "I was doing no harm.
+I was giving her a sleeping-draught."
+
+"Would she ever have waked?" asked Kitty, in a whisper.
+
+She looked into her husband's eyes as she spoke, and she knew from that
+moment that the accusation was based on no idle fancy of her own. In
+heart, at least, he was a murderer.
+
+But the question called forth his worst passions. He cursed her
+again--bitterly, blasphemously--then raised his hand and struck her with
+his closed fist between the eyes. He knew what he was doing: she fell to
+the ground, stunned and bleeding. He thrust her out of his way; she lay
+on the floor between the bed and the window, moaning a little, but for a
+time utterly unconscious of all that went on around her.
+
+Hugo's preparations had been spoilt. He was obliged to begin them over
+again. But this time his nerve was shaken: he blundered a little once or
+twice. Kitty's low moan was in his ears: the paralysed woman upon the
+bed was regarding him with a look of frozen horror in her wide-open
+eyes. She could not move: she could not speak, but she could understand.
+
+He turned his back upon the two, and measured out the drops once more
+into the glass. His hand shook as he did so. He was longer about his
+work than he had been before. So long that Kitty came to herself a
+little, and watched him with a horrible fascination. First the drops:
+then the water; then the sleeping-draught, from which the sleeper was
+not to awake, would be ready.
+
+Kitty did not know how she found strength or courage to do at that
+moment what she did. It seemed to her that fear, sickness, pain, all
+passed away, and left her only the determination to make one desperate
+effort to defeat her husband's ends.
+
+She knew that the window by which she lay was unshuttered. She rose from
+the ground, she reached the window-sill and threw up the sash, almost
+before Hugo knew what she was doing. Then she sent forth that terrible,
+agonised cry for help, which reached the ears of the four men who were
+even at that moment waiting and listening at the garden door.
+
+Hugo dropped the glass. It was shivered to pieces on the floor, and its
+contents stained the rug on which it fell. He strode to the window and
+stopped his wife's mouth with his hands, then dragged her away from it,
+and spoke some bitter furious words.
+
+"Do you want to hang me?" he said. "Keep quiet, or I'll make you repent
+your night's work----"
+
+And then he paused. He had heard the sound of opening doors, of heavy
+steps and strange voices upon the stairs. He turned hastily to the
+dressing-room, and he was confronted on the threshold by the determined
+face and flashing eyes of his cousin, Brian Luttrell. He cast a hurried
+glance beyond and around him; but he saw no help at hand. Kitty had sunk
+fainting to the ground: there were other faces--severe and menacing
+enough--behind Brian's: he felt that he was caught like a wild beast in
+a trap. His only course was to brazen out the matter as best he could;
+and this, in the face of Brian Luttrell, of Percival Heron, of old Mr.
+Colquhoun, it was hard to do. In spite of himself his face turned pale,
+and his knees shook as he spoke in a hoarse and grating tone.
+
+"What does this disturbance mean?" he said. "Why do you come rushing
+into Mrs. Luttrell's room at this hour of the night?"
+
+"Because," said Brian, taking him by the shoulder, "your wife has called
+for help, and we believe that she needs it. Because we know that you are
+one of the greatest scoundrels that ever trod the face of the earth.
+Because we are going to bring you to justice. That is why!"
+
+"These are very fine accusations," said Hugo, with a pale sneer, "but I
+think you will find a difficulty in proving them, Mr.--Vasari."
+
+"I shall have at least no difficulty in proving that you stole money and
+forged my brother's name three years ago," said Brian, in a voice that
+was terrible in its icy scorn. "I shall have no difficulty in proving to
+the world's satisfaction that you shamefully cheated Dino Vasari, and
+that you twice--yes, twice--tried to murder him, in order to gain your
+own ends. Hugo Luttrell, you are a coward, a thief, a would-be murderer;
+and unless you can prove that you were in my mother's room with no evil
+intent (which I believe to be impossible) you shall be branded with all
+these names in the world's face."
+
+"There is no proof--there is no legal proof," cried Hugo, boldly. But
+his lips were white.
+
+"But there is plenty of moral proof, young man," said Mr. Colquhoun's
+dry voice. "Quite enough to blast your reputation. And what does this
+empty bottle mean and this broken glass? Perhaps your wife can tell us
+that."
+
+There was a momentary silence. Mr. Colquhoun held up the little bottle,
+and pointed with raised eyebrows to the label upon it. Heron was
+supporting his sister in his arms and trying to revive her: Fane and the
+impassive constable barred the way between Hugo and the door.
+
+In that pause, a strange, choked sound came from the bed. For the first
+time for many months Mrs. Luttrell had slightly raised her hand. She
+said the name that had been upon her lips so many times during the last
+few weeks, and her eyes were fixed upon the man whom for a lifetime she
+had called her son.
+
+"Brian!" she said, "Brian!"
+
+And he, suddenly turning pale, relaxed his hold upon Hugo's arm and
+walked to the bed-side. "Mother," he said, leaning over her, "did you
+call me? Did you speak to me?"
+
+She looked at him with wistful eyes: her nerveless fingers tried to
+press his hand. "Brian," she murmured. Then, with a great spasmodic
+effort: "My son!"
+
+The attention of the others had been concentrated upon this little
+scene; and for the moment both Fane and Mr. Colquhoun drew nearer to the
+bed, leaving the door of Mrs. Luttrell's bed-room unguarded. The
+constable was standing in the dressing-room. It was then that Hugo saw
+his chance, although it was one which a sane man would scarcely have
+thought of taking. He made a rush for the bed-room door.
+
+Whither should he go? The front door was bolted and barred; but he
+supposed that the back door would be open. He never thought of the
+entrance to the garden by which Brian Luttrell had got into the house.
+He dashed down the staircase; he was nimbler and lighter-footed than
+Fane, who was immediately behind him, and he knew the tortuous ways and
+winding passages of the house, as Fane did not. He gained on his
+pursuer. Down the dark stone passages he fled: the door into the back
+premises stood wide open. There was a flight of steep stone steps, which
+led straight to a kitchen and thence into the yard. He would have time
+to unbolt the kitchen door, even if it were not already open, for Fane
+was far, far behind.
+
+But there was no light, and there was a sudden turn in the steps which
+he had forgotten. Fane reached the head of the staircase in time to hear
+a cry, a heavy crashing fall, a groan. Then all was still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A LAST CONFESSION.
+
+
+They carried him upstairs again, handling him gently, and trying to
+discover the extent of his injuries; but they did not guess--until, in
+the earliest hours of the day, a doctor came from Dunmuir to
+Netherglen--that Hugo Luttrell's hours on earth were numbered. He had
+broken his back, and although he might linger in agony for a short time,
+the inevitable end was near. As the dawn came creeping into the room in
+which he lay, he opened his eyes, and the watchers saw that he shuddered
+as he looked round.
+
+"Why have they brought me here?" he said.
+
+No one knew why. It was the nearest and most convenient room for the
+purpose. Brian had not been by to interpose, or he might have chosen
+another place. For it was the room to which Richard Luttrell had been
+carried when they brought him back to Netherglen.
+
+Kitty was beside him, and, with her, Elizabeth, who had come from
+Dunmuir on hearing of the accident. These two women, knowing as they did
+the many evil deeds which he had committed, did not refuse him their
+gentle ministry. When they saw the pain that he suffered, their hearts
+bled for him. They could, not love him: they could not forgive him for
+all that he had done; but they pitied him. And most of all they pitied
+him when they knew that the fiat had gone forth that he must die.
+
+He knew it, too. He knew it from their faces: he had no need to ask. The
+hopelessness upon his face, the pathetic look of suffering in his eyes,
+touched even Kitty's heart. She asked him once if she could do anything
+to help him. They were alone together, and the answer was as unexpected
+as it was brief: "I want Angela."
+
+They telegraphed for her, although they hardly thought that she would
+reach the house before he died. But the fact that she was coming seemed
+to buoy him up: he lingered throughout the day, turning his eyes from
+time to time to the clock upon the mantelpiece, or towards the opening
+door. At night he grew restless and uneasy: he murmured piteously that
+she would not come, or that he should die before she came.
+
+Brian, although in the house, held aloof from the injured man's room.
+Merciful as he was by nature, Hugo's offences had transcended the bounds
+even of his tolerance; and his anger was more implacable than that of a
+harsher man. Although he had been told that Hugo was dying, he found it
+hard to be pitiful. He knew more than Hugo imagined. Mrs. Luttrell had
+recovered speech sufficiently to tell her son the history of the
+previous night, and Brian was certain that Kitty's cry for help had come
+only just in time.
+
+It was early in the evening when Hugo spoke, almost for the first time
+of his own accord, to his wife. "Kitty," he said, imperiously, "come
+here."
+
+She came, trembling a little, and stood beside him, scarcely bearing to
+meet the gaze of those darkly-burning eyes.
+
+"Kitty," he said, looking at her strangely, "I suppose you hate me."
+
+"No," she answered. "No, indeed, Hugo."
+
+"Is that mark on your forehead from the blow I gave you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I did not mean to hurt you," he said, "but I think I was mad just then.
+However, it doesn't matter; I am going to die, and you can be happy in
+your own way. I suppose you will marry Vivian?"
+
+"Don't talk so, Hugo," she said, laying her hand upon his brow.
+
+"Why not? I do not care. Better to die than lie here--here, where
+Richard Luttrell lay. Kitty, they say I cannot be moved while I live;
+but if--if you believe that I ever loved you, see that they carry me out
+of this room as soon as I am dead. Promise me that."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"That is all I want. Marry Vivian, and forget me as soon as you please.
+He will never love you as much as I did, Kitty. If I had lived, you
+would have loved me, too, in time. But it's no use now."
+
+The voice was faint, but sullen. Kitty's heart yearned over him.
+
+"Oh, Hugo," she said, "won't you think of other things? Ask God to
+forgive you for what you have done: He will forgive you if you repent:
+He will, indeed."
+
+"Don't talk to me of forgiveness," said Hugo, closing his eyes. "No one
+forgives: God least of all."
+
+"We forgive you, Hugo," said Kitty, with brimming eyes, "and is God less
+merciful than ourselves?"
+
+"I will wait till Angela comes," he answered. "I will listen to her. To
+nobody but her."
+
+And then he relapsed into a half-conscious state, from which she dared
+not arouse him.
+
+Angela came at night; and she was led almost instantly to the room in
+which he lay. He opened his eyes as soon as she entered, and fixed them
+eagerly upon her.
+
+"So you have come," he said. There was a touch of satisfaction in his
+tone. She knelt down beside him and took his hand. "Talk to me," he
+murmured.
+
+Kitty and Brian, who had entered with Angela, marvelled at the request.
+They marvelled more when she complied with it in a curiously undoubting
+way. It seemed as if she understood his needs, his peculiarities, even
+his sins, exactly. She spoke of the holiest things in a simple, direct
+way, which evidently appealed to something within him; for, though he
+did not respond, he lay with his eyes fixed upon her face, and gave no
+sign of discontent.
+
+At last he sighed, and bade her stop.
+
+"It's all wrong," he said, wearily. "I had forgotten. I ought to have a
+priest."
+
+"There is one waiting downstairs," said Brian.
+
+Hugo started at the voice.
+
+"So you are there?" he said. "Oh, it's no use. No priest would absolve
+me until--until----"
+
+"Yes: until what?" said Angela. But he made no answer.
+
+Presently, however, he pressed her hand, and murmured:--
+
+"You were always good to me."
+
+"Dear Hugo!"
+
+"And I loved you--a little--not in the way I loved Kitty--but as a
+saint--an angel. Do you think you could forgive me if I had wronged
+you!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I believe so."
+
+"If you forgive me, I shall think that there is some hope. But I don't
+know. Brian is there still, is he not? I have something to say to him."
+
+Brian came forward, a little reluctantly. Hugo looked at him with those
+melancholy, sunken eyes, in which a sort of fire seemed to smoulder
+still.
+
+"Brian will never forgive me," he said.
+
+"Yes, Hugo, he will," said Angela.
+
+Brian gave an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or dissent they
+could not tell. But he did not look at Hugo's face.
+
+"I know," said Hugo. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. I was justified
+in what I did."
+
+"You hear," said Brian to Angela, in a very low voice.
+
+But Hugo went on without noticing.
+
+"Justified--except in one thing. And I want to tell you about that."
+
+"You need not," said Brian, quietly. "If it is anything fresh, I do not
+wish to hear."
+
+"Brian," said Angela, "you are hard."
+
+"No, he is not too hard," Hugo interposed, in a dreamy voice, more as if
+he were talking to himself than to them. "He was always good to me: he
+did more for me than anybody else. More than Richard. I always hated
+Richard. I wished that he was dead." He stopped, and then resumed, with
+a firmer intonation. "Is Mr. Colquhoun in the house? Fetch him here, and
+Vivian too, if he is at hand. I have something to say to them."
+
+They did his bidding, and presently the persons for whom he asked stood
+at his bed-side.
+
+"Are they all here? My eyes are getting dim; it is time I spoke," said
+Hugo, feebly. "Mr. Colquhoun, I shall want you to take down what I say.
+You may make it as public as you like. Angela----"
+
+He felt for her hand. She gave it to him, and let him lean upon her
+shoulder as he spoke. He looked up in her eyes with a sort of smile.
+
+"Kiss me, Angela," he said, "for the last time. You will never do it
+again.... Are you all listening? I wish you and everyone to know that it
+was I--I--who shot Richard Luttrell in the wood; not Brian. We fired at
+the same moment. It was not Brian; do you hear?"
+
+There was a dead silence. Then Brian staggered as if he would have
+fallen, and caught at Percival's arm. But the weakness was only for a
+moment. He said, simply, "I thank God," and stood erect again. Mr.
+Colquhoun put on his spectacles and stared at him. Angela, pale to the
+lips, did not move; Hugo's head was still resting against her shoulder.
+It was Brian's voice that broke the silence, and there was pity and
+kindliness in its tone.
+
+"Never mind, Hugo," he said, bending over him. "It was an accident; it
+might have been done by either of us. God knows I sorrowed bitterly when
+I thought my hand had done it; perhaps you have sorrowed, too. At any
+rate, you are trying to make amends, and if I have anything personally
+to forgive----"
+
+"Wait," said Hugo, in his feeble yet imperious voice, with long pauses
+between the brief, broken sentences. "You do not understand. I did it on
+purpose. I meant to kill him. He had struck me, and I meant to be
+revenged. I thought I should suffer for it--and I did not care.... I did
+not mean Brian to be blamed; but I dared not tell the truth.... Put me
+down, Angela; I killed him, do you hear?"
+
+But she did not move.
+
+"Did you wish me to write this statement?" said Mr. Colquhoun, in his
+dryest manner. "If so, I have done it."
+
+"Give me the pen," said Hugo, when he had heard what had been written.
+
+He took it between his feeble fingers. He could scarcely write; but he
+managed to scrawl his name at the bottom of the paper on which his
+confession was recorded, and two of the persons present signed their
+names as witnesses.
+
+"Tell Mrs. Luttrell," said Hugo, very faintly, when this was over. Then
+he lay back, closed his eyes, and remained for some time without
+speaking.
+
+"I have something else to tell," he said, at last. "Kitty--you know, she
+married me ... but it was against her own will. She did not elope with
+me. I carried her off.... She will explain it all now. Do you hear,
+Kitty? Tell anything you like. It will not hurt me. You never loved me,
+and you never would have done. But nobody will ever love you as I did;
+remember that. And I think that's all."
+
+"Have you nothing to say," asked Mr. Colquhoun in very solemn tones,
+"about your conduct to Dino Vasari and Mrs. Luttrell?"
+
+"Nothing to you."
+
+"But everything to God," murmured Angela. He raised his eyes to her face
+and did not speak. "Pray for His forgiveness, Hugo, and He will grant
+it. Even if your sins are as scarlet they shall be as white as snow."
+
+"I want your forgiveness," he whispered, "and nothing more."
+
+"I will give you mine," she said, and the tears fell from her eyes as
+she spoke; "and Brian will give you his: yes, Brian, yes. As we hope
+ourselves to be forgiven, Hugo, we forgive you; and we will pray with
+you for God's forgiveness, too."
+
+She had taken Brian's hand and laid it upon Hugo's, and for a moment the
+three hands rested together in one strangely loving clasp. And then Hugo
+whispered, "Pray for me if you like: I--I dare not pray."
+
+And, forgetful of any human presence but that of this sick, sinful soul
+about to come before its Maker, Angela prayed aloud.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He died in the early dawn, with his hand still clasped in hers. The
+short madness of his love for Kitty seemed to have faded from his
+memory. Perhaps all earthly things had grown rather faint to him:
+certain it was that his attempt on the lives of Dino and of Mrs.
+Luttrell did not seem to weigh very heavily on his conscience. It was
+the thought of Richard Luttrell that haunted him more than all beside.
+It was with a long, shuddering moan of fear--and, as Angela hoped (but
+only faintly hoped), of penitence--that his soul went out into the
+darkness of eternity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With Hugo Luttrell's death, the troubles of the family at Netherglen
+seemed to disappear. Old Mrs. Luttrell's powers of speech remained with
+her, although she could not use her limbs; and the hardness and
+stubbornness of her character had undergone a marvellous change. She
+wept when she heard of Dino's death; but her affection for Brian, and
+also for Elizabeth, proved to be strong and unwavering. Her great
+desire--that the properties of Netherglen and Strathleckie should be
+united--was realised in a way of which she had never dreamt. Brian
+himself believed firmly that he was of Italian parentage and that Dino
+Vasari was the veritable heir of the Luttrells; but the notion was now
+so painful to Mrs. Luttrell, that he never spoke of it, and agreed, as
+he said to Elizabeth, to be recognised as the master of Netherglen and
+Strathleckie under false pretences. "For the whole estate, to tell the
+truth, is yours, not mine," he said. And she: "What does that matter,
+since we are man and wife! There is no 'mine and thine' in the case. It
+is all yours and all mine; for we are one."
+
+In fact, no words were more applicable to Brian and Elizabeth than the
+quaint lines of the old poet:
+
+    "They were so one, it never could be said
+    Which of them ruled and which of them obeyed.
+    He ruled because she would obey; and she,
+    By her obeying, ruled as well as he.
+    There ne'er was known between them a dispute
+    Save which the other's will should execute."
+
+The Herons returned to London shortly after Elizabeth's marriage, and
+with them Kitty returned, too. But it was a very different Kitty from
+the one who had frolicked at Strathleckie, or pined at Netherglen. The
+widowed Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was a gentler, perhaps a sadder, woman than
+Kitty Heron had promised to be: but she was a sweeter woman, and one who
+formed the chief support and comfort to her father's large and irregular
+household, as it passed from its home in Scotland to a more permanent
+abode in Kensington. For the house in Gower-street, dear as it was to
+Kitty's heart, was not the one which Mr. and Mrs. Heron preferred to any
+other.
+
+Little Jack, now slowly recovering from his affection of the spine,
+found in Kitty the motherliness which he had sorely missed when
+Elizabeth first went away. His affection was very sweet to Kitty. She
+had never hitherto been more than a playmate to her step-brothers: she
+was destined henceforward to be their chief counsellor and friend. And
+the little baby-sister was almost as a child of her own to Kitty's
+heart.
+
+It was not until more than a year of quiet life in her father's home had
+passed away that she saw much of Rupert Vivian. She was very shy and
+silent with him when he began to seek her out again. He thought her a
+little cold, and fancied that a blind man could find no favour in her
+eyes. It was Angela--that universal peacemaker--who at last set matters
+straight between the two.
+
+"Kitty," she said, one day when Kitty was calling upon her, "why are you
+so distant and unfriendly to my brother?"
+
+"I did not mean to be," said Kitty, with rising colour.
+
+"But, indeed, you are. And he thinks--he thinks--that he has offended
+you."
+
+"Oh, no! How could he!" ejaculated Kitty. Whereat Angela smiled. "You
+must tell him not to think any such thing, Angela, please."
+
+"You must tell him yourself. He might not believe me," said Angela.
+
+Kitty was very simple in some things still. She took Angela's advice
+literally.
+
+"Shall I tell him now--to-day?" she said, seriously.
+
+"Yes, now, to-day," said Angela. "You will find him in the library."
+
+"But he will think it so strange if I go to him there."
+
+"Not at all. I would not send you to him if I did not know what he would
+feel. Kitty, he is not happy. Can you not make him a little happier?"
+
+And then Angela, who had meanwhile led her guest to the library door,
+opened it and made her enter, almost against her will. She stood for a
+moment inside the door, doubting whether to go or stay. Then she looked
+at Rupert, and decided that she would stay.
+
+He was alone. He was leaning his head on one hand in an attitude of
+listlessness, which showed that he was out of spirits.
+
+"Is that you, Angela?" he said.
+
+"No," said Kitty, softly. "It's not Angela: it's me."
+
+She was very ungrammatical, but her tone was sweet, and Rupert smiled.
+His face looked as if the sunshine had fallen on it.
+
+"Me, is it?" he said, half-rising. Then, more gravely--"I am very glad
+to see you--no, not to see you: that's not it, is it?--to have you
+here."
+
+"Are you?" said Kitty.
+
+There were tears in her voice.
+
+"Am I not?" He was holding her hand now, and she did not draw it away
+even when he raised it, somewhat hesitatingly, to his lips. He went on
+in a very low voice:--"It would make the happiness of my life to have
+you always with me. But I must not hope for that."
+
+"Why not?" said Kitty, giving him both hands instead of one; "when it
+would make mine, too."
+
+And after that there was no more to be said.
+
+"Tell me," she whispered, a little later, "am I at all now like the
+little girl in Gower-street that you used to know?"
+
+"Not a bit," he answered, kissing her. "You are dearer, sweeter,
+lovelier than any little girl in Gower-street or anywhere else in the
+whole wide world."
+
+"And you forgive me for my foolishness?"
+
+"My darling," he said, "your foolishness was nothing to my own. And if
+you can bear to tie yourself to a blind man, so many years older than
+yourself, who has proved himself the most arrogant and conceited fool
+alive----"
+
+"Hush!" said Kitty. "I shall not allow you to speak in that way--of the
+man I love."
+
+"Kiss me, then, for the first time in your life, Kitty, and I will say
+no more."
+
+And so they married and went down to Vivian Court in Devonshire, where
+they live and flourish still, the happiest of the happy. Never more
+happy than when Brian and Elizabeth came to spend a week with them,
+bringing a pair of sturdy boys--Bernard and Richard they are called--to
+play with Kitty's little girl upon the velvet lawns and stately terraces
+of Vivian Court. Kitty is already making plans for the future union of
+Bernard Luttrell and her own little Angela; but her husband shakes his
+head, and laughingly tells her that planned marriages never come to
+good.
+
+"I thought all marriages had to be planned," says Kitty, innocently.
+
+"Mine was not."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that I was led into it--quite against my will, madam--by a
+tricksy, wilful sprite, who would have her own way----"
+
+"Say that you have not repented it, Rupert," she whispers, looking up at
+him with the fond, sorrowful eyes that he cannot see.
+
+"My own love," he answers, taking her in his arms and kissing her, "you
+make the sunshine of my life; and as long as you are near me I am
+thoroughly and unspeakably content."
+
+Kitty knows that it is true, although she weeps sometimes in secret at
+the thought that he will never look upon his little daughter's face. But
+everyone says that the tiny Angela is the image of Kitty herself as a
+child; and, therefore, when the mother wishes to describe the winning
+face and dancing eyes, she tells Rupert that he has only to picture to
+himself once more--"the little girl that he used to know in Gower
+Street."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+"THE END CROWNS ALL, AND THAT IS YET TO COME."
+
+
+And what of Angela Vivian, the elder? Angela, whose heart was said to be
+buried in a grave?
+
+After Hugo Luttrell's death, she remained for some time at Netherglen,
+sitting a great deal in Mrs. Luttrell's room and trying to resume the
+daughter-like ways which had grown so natural to her. But she was driven
+slowly to perceive that she was by no means necessary to Mrs. Luttrell's
+happiness. Mrs. Luttrell loved her still, but her heart had gone out
+vehemently to Brian and Elizabeth; and when either of them was within
+call she wanted nothing else. Brian and Elizabeth would gladly have kept
+Angela with them for evermore, but it seemed to her that her duty lay
+now rather with her brother than with those who were, after all, of no
+kith or kin to her. She returned, therefore, to Rupert's house in
+Kensington, and lived there until his marriage took place.
+
+She was sorry for one thing--that the friendship between herself and
+Percival Heron seemed to be broken. The words which she had spoken to
+him before Hugo's death had evidently made a very strong impression upon
+Percival's mind. He looked guilty and uncomfortable when he spoke to
+her; his manner became unusually abrupt, and at last she noticed that,
+if she happened to come into a room which he occupied, he immediately
+made an excuse for leaving it. She had very few opportunities of seeing
+him at all; but every time she met him, his avoidance of her became so
+marked that she was hurt and grieved by it. But she could not do
+anything to mend matters; and so she waited and was silent.
+
+She heard, on her return to Kensington, that he had been a great deal to
+her brother's house, and had done much for Rupert's comfort. But as soon
+as he knew that she intended to stay in London he began to discontinue
+his visits. It was very evident that he had determined to see as little
+of her as possible. And, by-and-bye, he never came at all. For full
+three months before Kitty's engagement to Rupert Percival did not appear
+at the pleasant house in Kensington.
+
+Angela was sitting alone, however, one day when he was announced. He
+came in, glanced round with a vexed and irritated air, and made some
+sort of apology.
+
+"I came to see Rupert. I thought that you were away," he said.
+
+"And, therefore, you came?" she said, with a little smile. "It was very
+good of you to come when you thought he would be lonely."
+
+"I did not mean that exactly."
+
+"No? I wish you would come to see him a little oftener, Mr. Heron; he
+misses your visits very much."
+
+"He won't miss them long, he will soon get used to doing without me."
+
+"But why should he?"
+
+"Because I am going away."
+
+"Where are you going?" said Angela, turning to look at him.
+
+"To California," he answered grimly.
+
+She paused for a moment, and then said in a tranquil tone, "Oh, no."
+
+"No? Why not?" said Percival, smiling a little in spite of himself.
+
+"I think that if you go you will be back again in six months."
+
+"Ah? You think I have no constancy in me; no resolution; no manliness."
+
+"Indeed, I think nothing so dreadful. But California is not the place
+where I can imagine a man of your tastes being happy. Were you so very
+happy on the Rocas Reef?"
+
+"That has nothing to do with it. I should have been happy if I had had
+enough to do. I want some active work."
+
+"Can you not find that in England?"
+
+"I daresay I might. I hate England. I have nothing to keep me in
+England."
+
+"But what has happened?" asked Angela. "You did not talk in this way
+when you came from the Rocas Reef."
+
+"Because I did not know what a fool I could make of myself."
+
+She glanced at him with a faint, sweet smile. "You alarm me, Mr. Heron,"
+she said, very tranquilly. "What have you been doing?"
+
+Percival started up from the low seat in which he had placed himself,
+walked to the window, and then came back to her side and looked at her.
+He was standing in one of his most defiant attitudes, with his hands
+thrust into his pockets, and a deep dent on his brow.
+
+"I will tell you what I have been doing," he said, in a curiously dogged
+tone. "I'll give you my history for the last year or two. It isn't a
+creditable one. Will you listen to it or not?"
+
+"I will listen to it," said Angela.
+
+She looked at him with serene, meditative eyes, which calmed him almost
+against his will as he proceeded.
+
+"I'll tell you, then," he said. "I nearly wrecked three lives through my
+own selfish obstinacy. I almost broke a woman's heart and sacrificed my
+honour----"
+
+"Almost? Nearly?" said Angela, gently. "That is possible, but you saw
+your mistake in time. You drew back; you did not do these things."
+
+"I'll tell you what I did do!" he exclaimed. "I whined to you, until I
+loathe myself, about a woman who never cared a straw for me. Do you call
+that manly?"
+
+"I call it very natural," said Angela.
+
+"And after all----"
+
+"Yes, after all?" He hesitated so long that she looked up into his face
+and gently repeated the words "After all?"
+
+"After all," he went on at last, with a sort of groan, "I love--someone
+else."
+
+They were both silent. He threw himself into a chair, and looked at her
+expectantly.
+
+"Don't you despise me?" he said, presently.
+
+"Why should I, Mr. Heron?"
+
+"Why? Because you are so constant, so changeless, that you cannot be
+expected to sympathise with a man who loves a second time," cried
+Percival, in an exasperated tone. "And yet this love is as sunlight to
+candlelight, as wine to water! But you will never understand that, you,
+with your heart given to one man--buried in a grave."
+
+He stopped short; she had half-risen, and made a gesture as if she would
+have bidden him be silent.
+
+"There!" he said, vehemently. "I am doing it again. I am hurting you,
+grieving you, as I did once before, when I forgot your great sorrow; and
+you did right to reprove me then. I know you have hated me ever since. I
+know you cannot forgive me for the pain I inflicted. It's, of course, of
+no use to say I am sorry; that is an utterly futile thing to do; but as
+far as any such feeble reparation is in my power, I am quite prepared to
+offer it to you. Sorry? I have cursed myself and my own folly ever
+since."
+
+"You are making a mistake, Mr. Heron," said Angela. She felt as if she
+could say nothing more.
+
+"How am I making a mistake?" he asked.
+
+"At the time you refer to," she said, in a hurried yet stumbling sort of
+way, "when you said what you did, I thought it careless, inconsiderate
+of you; but I have not remembered it in the way that you seem to think;
+I have not been angry. I have not hated you. There is no need for you to
+tell me that you are sorry."
+
+"I think there is every need," he said. "Do you suppose that I am going
+away into the Western wilds without even an apology?"
+
+"It is needless," she murmured.
+
+There was a pause, and then he leaned forward and said in a deeper
+tone:--
+
+"You would not say that it was needless if you felt now as you did just
+then."
+
+She looked at him helplessly, but did not speak.
+
+"It is three years since he died. I don't ask you to forget him, only I
+ask whether you could not love someone else--as well?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Heron, don't ask me," she said, tremblingly. And then she
+covered her face with her hands; her cheeks were crimson.
+
+"I will ask nothing," said Percival. "I will only tell you what my
+feelings have been, and then I will go away. It's a selfish indulgence,
+I know; but I beg of you to grant it. When I had spoken those
+inconsiderate words of mine I was ashamed of myself. I saw how much I
+had grieved you, and I vowed that I would never come into your presence
+again. I went away, and I kept away. You have seen for yourself how I
+have tried to avoid you, have you not?"
+
+"Yes," she said, gently. "I have seen it."
+
+"You know the reason now. I could not bear to see you and feel what you
+must be thinking of me. And then--then--I found that it was misery to be
+without you. I found that I missed you inexpressibly. I did not know
+till then how dear you had grown to me."
+
+She did not move, she did not speak, she only sat and listened, with her
+eyes fixed upon her folded hands. But there was nothing forbidding in
+her silence. He felt that he might go on.
+
+"It comes to this with me," he said, "that I cannot bear to meet you as
+I meet an ordinary friend or acquaintance. I would rather know that I
+shall never see you again. Either you must be all to me--or nothing. I
+know that it must be nothing, and so--I am going to California."
+
+"Do not go," she said, without looking up. She spoke coldly, he thought,
+but sweetly, too.
+
+"I must," he answered. "I must--in spite of the joy that it is to me to
+be even in your presence, and to hear your voice--I must go. I cannot
+bear it. I love you too well. It is a greater pain than I can bear, to
+look at you and to know that I can bring you no comfort, no solace; that
+your heart is buried with Richard Luttrell in a grave."
+
+"You are mistaken," she said again. Then, in a faltering voice, "you can
+bring me comfort. I shall be sorry if you are away."
+
+He caught his breath. "Do you mean it, Angela?" he cried, eagerly.
+"Think what you are saying, do not tell me to stay unless--unless--you
+can give me a little hope. Is it possible that you do not forbid me to
+love you? Do you think that in time--in time--I might win your love?"
+
+"Not in time," she murmured, "but now--now."
+
+He could hardly believe his ears. He knelt down beside her, and took her
+hands in his. "Now, Angela?" he said. "Can you love me now? Oh, my love,
+my love! tell me the truth! Have you forgiven me?"
+
+Her eyes were swimming in tears, but she gave him a glance of so much
+tenderness and trust, that he never again doubted her entire
+forgiveness. She might never forget Richard Luttrell, but her heart,
+with all its wealth of love, was given to the man who knelt before her,
+not buried in a grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course he did not go to California. The project was an utterly
+unsuitable one, and nobody scouted it more disdainfully than did he as
+soon as the mood of discontent was past. If a crowning touch were needed
+to the happiness of Brian and Elizabeth, it was given by this marriage.
+The sting of remorse which had troubled them at times when they looked
+at Percival's gloomy face was quite withdrawn. Percival's face was
+seldom gloomy now. Angela seemed to have found the secret of soothing
+his irritable nerves, of calming his impatience. Her sweet serenity was
+never ruffled by his violence; and for her sake he learned to subdue his
+temper, and to smooth his tongue as well as his brow. She led the lion
+in a leash of silk, and he was actually proud to be so led.
+
+They took a house in the unfashionable precincts of Russell-square,
+where Percival could be near his work. They were not rich, by any manner
+of means; but they were able to live in a very comfortable fashion, and
+soon found themselves surrounded by a circle of friends, who were quite
+as much attracted by Angela's tranquil grace and tenderness as by
+Percival's fitful brilliancy. Percival would never be very popular; but
+it was soon admitted on every hand that his intellect had seldom been so
+clear, his insight so great, nor his wit so free from bitterness, as in
+the days that succeeded his marriage with Angela. There is every reason
+to suppose that he will yet be a thoroughly prosperous and successful
+man.
+
+The one drop of bitterness in their cup is the absence of children. No
+little feet have come to patter up and down the wide staircase of that
+roomy house in Russell-square, no little voices re-echo along the
+passages and in the lofty rooms. But Angela's heart is perhaps only the
+more ready to bestow its tenderness upon the many who come to her for
+help--the weak, the sickly, the sinful and the weary, for whom she
+spends herself and is not spent in vain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Little more than two years after Brian's marriage, Mrs. Luttrell died.
+She died with her hand fast clasped in that of the man who had been
+indeed a son to her, she died with his name upon her lips. And when she
+was laid to rest beside her husband and her eldest son, Brian and
+Elizabeth were free to carry out a project which had been for some time
+very near their hearts. They went together to San Stefano.
+
+It was then that Elizabeth first heard the whole story of her husband's
+sojourn at the monastery. She had never known more than the bare facts
+before; and she listened with a new comprehension of his character, as
+he told her of the days of listless anguish spent after his illness at
+San Stefano, and of the hopelessness from which her own words and looks
+aroused him. He spoke much, also, of Dino and of Padre Cristoforo and
+the kindly monks: and in the sunny stillness of an early Italian morning
+they went to the churchyard to look for Dino's grave.
+
+They would not have found it but for the help of a monk who chanced to
+be in the neighbourhood. He led them courteously to the spot. It was
+unmarked by any stone, but a wreath of flowers had been laid upon it
+that morning, and the grassy mound showed signs of constant care. Brian
+and Elizabeth stood silently beside it; they did not move until the monk
+addressed them. And then Brian saw that Father Cristoforo was standing
+at their side.
+
+"He sleeps well," he said. "You need not mourn for him."
+
+"Yes, he sleeps," answered Brian, a little bitterly. "But we have lost
+him."
+
+"Do I not know that as well as you? Do I not grieve for him?" said the
+old man, with a deep sigh. "I have more reason to grieve than you. I
+have never yet told you how he died. Come with me and I will let you
+hear."
+
+They followed him to the guest-room of the monastery, and there, whilst
+they waited for him to speak, he threw back his cowl and fixed his eyes
+on Elizabeth's fair face.
+
+"It was for your sake," he said, "for your sake, in part, that Dino left
+his duty to the Church undone. It was your face, signora, that came, as
+he told me, between him and his prayers. I am glad that I have seen you
+before I die."
+
+He spoke mournfully, yet meditatively--more as if he was talking to
+himself than to her. Elizabeth shrank back a little, and Brian uttered a
+quick exclamation.
+
+"Her face?" he said. "Father, what does this mean?"
+
+The monk gave a start, and seemed to rouse himself from a dream.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, gently; "I am growing an old man, and I have had
+much to bear. I spoke without thought. Let me tell you the story of
+Dino's death."
+
+As far as he knew it, as far as he guessed it, he told the story. And
+when Brian uttered some strong ejaculation of anger and grief at its
+details, Father Cristoforo bowed his head upon his breast, folded his
+hands, and sighed.
+
+"I was wrong," he said. "You do well to rebuke me, my son; for I was
+wrong."
+
+"You were hard, you were cruel," said Brian, vehemently.
+
+"Yes, I was hard; I was cruel. But I am punished. The light of my eyes
+has been taken from me. I have lost the son that I loved."
+
+"You will see him again," said Elizabeth, softly. "You will go to him
+some day."
+
+"The saints grant it. I fear that I may not be worthy. To him the high
+places will be given; to me--to me----But he will pray for me."
+
+Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. The old man's
+form was bent; his face was shrunken, his eyes were dim. As she rightly
+guessed, it was the sorrow of Dino's death that had aged him in this
+way.
+
+Brian spoke next.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "tell me for the last time, father, what you believe
+to have been the truth of the story. Did Vincenza change the children,
+or did she not?"
+
+"My son," said the old monk, "a few months--nay, a few weeks ago, I said
+to myself that I would never answer that question. But life is slipping
+away from me; and I cannot leave the world with even the shadow of a lie
+upon my lips. When I sent Dino to England, I believed that Vincenza had
+done this thing. When Dino returned to us, I still believed that he was
+Mrs. Luttrell's son. But since our Dino's death, I have had a message--a
+solemn message--from the persons who saw Vincenza die. She had charged
+them with her last breath to tell me that the story was false--that the
+children were never changed at all. It was Mrs. Luttrell's delusion that
+suggested the plan to her. She hoped that she might make money by
+declaring that you were her son, and Dino, Mrs. Luttrell's. She swore on
+her death-bed that Dino was her child, and that it was Lippo Vasari who
+was buried in the churchyard of San Stefano."
+
+"Which story are we to believe?" said Brian, almost doubtingly.
+
+"The evidence is pretty evenly balanced," replied the Prior. "Believe
+the one that suits you best."
+
+Brian did not answer; he stood for a moment with his head bent and his
+eyes fixed on the ground. "To think," he said at last, "of the misery
+that we have suffered through--a lie!" Then he looked up, and met
+Elizabeth's eyes. "You are right," he said, as if answering some
+unspoken comment, "I have no reason to complain. I found Dino--and I
+found you; a friend and a wife--I thank God for them both."
+
+He took her hand in his, and his face was lit up with the look of love
+that was henceforth, as hitherto, to make the happiness of his life and
+hers.
+
+And when they went forth from the monastery doors it seemed to them a
+good omen that the last words echoing in their ears were those of the
+old monk's farewell salutation:--
+
+"Go in peace!"
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS TO READ.
+
+CANADIAN COPYRIGHT SERIES.
+
+
+15. Little Lord Fauntleroy. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+16. The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark Russell
+
+17. Jo's Boys, and How They Turned Out. By Louisa M. Alcott
+
+18. Saddle and Sabre. By Hawley Smart
+
+19. A Prince of the Blood. By James Payn
+
+20. An Algonquin Maiden. By G. Mercer Adam and A. Ethelwyn Wetherald
+
+21. One Traveller Returns. By David Christie Murray and H. Hermann
+
+22. Stained Pages; The Story of Anthony Grace. By G. Manville Fenn
+
+23. Lieutenant Barnabas. By Frank Barrett
+
+24. The Nun's Curse. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell
+
+25. The Twin Soul. By Charles Mackay
+
+26. One Maid's Mischief. By G. M. Fenn
+
+27. A Modern Magician. By J. F. Molloy
+
+28. A House of Tears. By E. Downey
+
+29. Sara Crewe and Editha's Burglar. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+30. The Abbey Murder. By Joseph Hatton
+
+31. The Argonauts of North Liberty. By Bret Harte
+
+32. Cradled in a Storm. By T. A. Sharp
+
+33. A Woman's Face. By Florence Warden
+
+34. Miracle Gold. By Richard Dowling
+
+35. Molloy's Story. By Frank Merryfield
+
+36. The Fortunes of Philippa Fairfax. By Frances H. Burnett
+
+37. The Silent Shore, or The Mystery of St James' Park. By John
+Bloundelle-Burton
+
+38. Eve. By S. Baring Gould
+
+39. Doctor Glennie's Daughter. By B. L. Farjeon
+
+40. The Case of Doctor Plemen. By Rene de Pont-Jest
+
+41. Bewitching Iza. By Alexis Bouvier
+
+42. A Wily Widow. By Alexis Bouvier
+
+43. Diana Barrington. By Mrs. John Croker
+
+44. The Ironmaster, or Love and Pride. By Georges Ohnet
+
+45. A Mere Child. By L. B. Walford
+
+46. Black Blood. By Geo. M. Fenn
+
+47. The Dream. By Emile Zola
+
+48. A Strange Message. By Dora Russell
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+The original book does not have a Table of Contents. One was
+added for the reader's convenience.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER FALSE PRETENCES***
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