h
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, w