not fit to come so
far."

This assumption of ignorance staggered Richard for the moment. Then,
with his voice sounding very deep and stern--

"Look here, Mark," he said; "your poor father is dead, but I presume
that my aunt is living, and for her sake I am unwilling to take steps
that may give her pain. You proved yourself an unprincipled scoundrel
over that bill transaction, and now, even as an officer, you cannot act
like a gentleman."

Mark was very pale now as he stood facing his cousin; but he showed no
sign of resentment, and Richard went on--

"Your conduct towards Miss Deane has been that of a dishonourable
blackguard; towards Mr Lacey, that of a sharper and a cheat. You see,
I know; but I am willing to spare you, for your mother's sake. You will
at once communicate with your lawyers, and tell them your assumption of
the property and title has been a mistake, and that you are willing to
surrender all claims at once."

"Poor fellow!" said Mark, softly, as he stood with his hands in his
jacket pockets and with a peculiar thin smile upon his tightened lips;
"the result of the fever. What a fancy to get into his head!"

"Do you mean to take that line?" said Richard. "Think better of it, and
give it up. It will save you trouble, your mother pain, and I promise
you that I will not be ungenerous toward you."

"How singular these crazes are!" said Mark, softly, as if speaking to
himself.

"Then you mean to fight me?" said Richard.

"My poor fellow, what nonsense you have got into your bewildered head!
I had a cousin, Sir Richard Frayne, who once, in a mad fit, attacked me,
and afterwards threw himself into a river, and was drowned."

"And was not drowned," said Richard, quietly.

"Yes, he was drowned. They found the body, and he was buried close to
his estate, and in the church there is a handsome monument to his
memory, saying kindly things that he did not deserve, for he committed
suicide in remorse for having obtained money by false pretences."

"You are an unmitigated scoundrel, Mark!" said Richard, with his brow
now knit angrily. "Once more, will you accept my terms?"

"He is dead and buried," said Mark, with his eyes more than half-shut
now; "and if Richard Frayne rose from the dead no one would believe his
tale."

"Will you accept my terms, or must I denounce you as one who has proved
treacherous to his friend, acted like a blackleg at cards, and who
obtained a hundred pounds by forgin