sses.

"Tell Mrs. Luttrell," said Hugo, very faintly, when this was over. Then
he lay back, closed his eyes, and remained for some time without
speaking.

"I have something else to tell," he said, at last. "Kitty--you know, she
married me ... but it was against her own will. She did not elope with
me. I carried her off.... She will explain it all now. Do you hear,
Kitty? Tell anything you like. It will not hurt me. You never loved me,
and you never would have done. But nobody will ever love you as I did;
remember that. And I think that's all."

"Have you nothing to say," asked Mr. Colquhoun in very solemn tones,
"about your conduct to Dino Vasari and Mrs. Luttrell?"

"Nothing to you."

"But everything to God," murmured Angela. He raised his eyes to her face
and did not speak. "Pray for His forgiveness, Hugo, and He will grant
it. Even if your sins are as scarlet they shall be as white as snow."

"I want your forgiveness," he whispered, "and nothing more."

"I will give you mine," she said, and the tears fell from her eyes as
she spoke; "and Brian will give you his: yes, Brian, yes. As we hope
ourselves to be forgiven, Hugo, we forgive you; and we will pray with
you for God's forgiveness, too."

She had taken Brian's hand and laid it upon Hugo's, and for a moment the
three hands rested together in one strangely loving clasp. And then Hugo
whispered, "Pray for me if you like: I--I dare not pray."

And, forgetful of any human presence but that of this sick, sinful soul
about to come before its Maker, Angela prayed aloud.

* * * * *

He died in the early dawn, with his hand still clasped in hers. The
short madness of his love for Kitty seemed to have faded from his
memory. Perhaps all earthly things had grown rather faint to him:
certain it was that his attempt on the lives of Dino and of Mrs.
Luttrell did not seem to weigh very heavily on his conscience. It was
the thought of Richard Luttrell that haunted him more than all beside.
It was with a long, shuddering moan of fear--and, as Angela hoped (but
only faintly hoped), of penitence--that his soul went out into the
darkness of eternity.

* * * * *

With Hugo Luttrell's death, the troubles of the family at Netherglen
seemed to disappear. Old Mrs. Luttrell's powers of speech remained with
her, although she could not use her limbs; and the hardness and
stubbornness of her character had undergone a