for the other
points--name and fortune----"

But Rupert interrupted him with a sharp exclamation, which betrayed
the utmost nervous exasperation.

"Pshaw! If I did not know you so well, I would say you were playing at
candour. This--this unconventionality of yours would have led you
into curious pitfalls, Adrian, had you been obliged to live in the
world. My 'hostility' has saved you from some already, I know--more is
the pity it could not save you from this--for it passes all bounds
that you should meditate such an unnatural act, upon my soul, in the
most natural manner in the world. One must be an Adrian Landale, and
live on a tower for the best part of one's life, to reach such a pitch
of--unconventionality, let us call it."

"For God's sake," exclaimed Sir Adrian, suddenly losing patience,
"what are you driving at, man? In what way can my marriage with a
young lady, who, inconceivable as it may be, has found something to
love in me; in what way, I say, can it be accounted cynical? I am not
subtle enough to perceive it."

"To any one but you," sneered the other, coming to his climax with a
sort of cruel deliberation, "it would hardly require special
subtleness to perceive that for the man of mature age to marry the
_daughter_, after having, in the days of his youth, been the lover of
the _mother_, is a proceeding, the very idea of which is somewhat
revolting in the average individual.... There are many roues in St.
James' who would shrink before it; yet you, the enlightened
philosopher, the moralist----"

But Sir Adrian, breathing quickly, laid his hand heavily on his
brother's shoulder.

"When you say the mother's lover, Rupert," he said, in a contained
voice, which was as ominous of storm as the first mutters of thunder,
"you mean that I loved her--you do not mean to insinuate that that
noble woman, widowed but a few weeks, whose whole soul was filled with
but one lofty idea, that of duty, was the mistress--the mistress of a
boy, barely out of his teens?"

Rupert shrugged his shoulders.

"I insinuate nothing, my dear Adrian; I think nothing. All this is
ancient history which after all has long concerned only you. You know
best what occurred in the old days, and of course a man of honour is
bound to deny all tales affecting a lady's virtue! Even you, I fancy,
would condescend so far. But nevertheless, reflect how this marriage
will rake up the old story. It will be remembered how you, for the
sake of re