e he gazed, this was torn suddenly aside, as if by an angry,
impatient hand, and a man leaned out, throwing back the hair from his
forehead, to catch the cold wind which was blowing sharply. Guy had
never seen the dark, passionate face before, but he know whose it was
very well, though there was little family likeness to guide him. Cyril
Brandon's features were small and finely cut, like his sister's; but
there the resemblance ended. His complexion, naturally sallow, had been
burnt three shades deeper by the Indian sun. His fierce black eyes, and
thin lips, that seemed always ready to curl or quiver, made the contrast
with Constance very striking.

Livingstone drew back into the farthest shadow of the garden trees. He
knew how much reason Cyril had for hating him above all living men, and
he did not wish to risk a meeting. Mohun's warning shot across his mind,
and he felt it was rightly founded.

Brandon looked out for some minutes without moving, then he dropped his
head suddenly on his arms with a heavy groan. The bright light was
behind him, and Guy could see his clasped fingers twisting and tearing
at each other, as if he wished to distract mental agony by the sense of
bodily pain. The gazer saw that another besides himself had given up all
hope; and, with a heavier heart than over, he stole away home--not to
sleep, but to think, and wait for the morning.

About noon next day the expected message came:

"DEAR GUY,--I have got leave to see you at last, but it
was very difficult to gain. It is only on these conditions: you are
not to stay with me a moment beyond three hours, and you must leave
Ventnor immediately afterward, and not return. I have promised all
for you. It seems very hard; but we must not think of that now.
Come directly. C.B."

Ten minutes later there was only a closed door between Livingstone, and
the interview he longed for and dreaded so much. His steel nerves stood
him in good stead then; it was not at the crisis that these were likely
to fail. When Constance heard his step, it was measured and firmly
planted as she always remembered it. So it would have been if he had
been walking to meet the fire of a platoon. Her aunt, Mrs. Vavasour, was
with her, but left the room, as Guy opened the door, and so they met
again as they had parted--alone.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"I charge thee, by the living's prayer,
By the dead's silen