tters. 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
a