id Janetta, with such vehemence that the tears rose to her
great dark eyes and the scarlet color to her cheeks--"that you were
flirting, in fact, and that Julian's mother--_your wife_, Cousin
Wyvis--is still alive."

CHAPTER XXVI.

"FREE!"

"And what if I refuse to tell her this?" said Wyvis Brand.

"Then I shall tell her myself."

"And break your word to me?"

"And break my word."

He stood looking at her for a minute in silence, and then an ironical
smile curled his lip as he turned aside.

"Women are all alike," he said. "They cannot possibly hold their
tongues. I thought _you_ were superior to most of your sex. I remember
that your father once spoke of you to me as 'his faithful Janet.' Is
this your faithfulness?"

"Yes, it is, it is," she cried; and then, sitting down, she suddenly
burst into tears. She was unnerved and agitated, and so she wept, as
girls will weep--for nothing at all sometimes, and sometimes in the very
crisis of their fate.

Wyvis looked on, uncomprehending, a little touched, though rather
against his will, by Janetta's tears. He knew that she did not often
cry. He waited for the paroxysm to pass--waited grimly, but with
"compunctuous visitings." And presently he was rewarded for his
patience. She dried her eyes, lifted up her head, and spoke.

"I don't know why I should make such a fool of myself," she said. "I
suppose it was because you mentioned my father. Yes, he used to call me
his faithful Janet very often. I have always tried--to--to _deserve_
that name."

"Forgive me, Janetta," said her cousin, more moved than he liked to
appear. "I did not want to hurt you; but, indeed, my dear girl, you must
let me manage my affairs for myself. You are not responsible for
Margaret Adair as you were for Nora; and you can't, you know, bring me
to book as you did my brother, Cuthbert."

"You mean that I interfere too much in other people's business?" said
poor Janetta, with quivering lips.

"I did not say so. I only say, '_Don't_ interfere.'"

"It is very hard to do right," said Janetta, looking at him with wistful
eyes. "One's duty seems so divided. Margaret is not my sister--that is
true, but she is my friend; and I always believed that one had
responsibilities and duties towards friends as well as towards
relations."

"Possibly"--in a very dry tone. "But you need not meddle with what is no
concern of yours."

"It is my concern, if you--my cousin--are not acting rightly to