er 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
manag