ay his hand
affectionately on his shoulder.

"Don't thank me, dear boy," he said. "It's very little to do for you;
but it will perhaps help to keep you out of difficulties. And if you are
in any trouble, go to Colquhoun. I will tell him how far he may go on
helping you, and you can trust him. He shall not even tell me what you
say to him, if you don't wish me to know. But, for Heaven's sake, Hugo,
try to keep straight, and bring no disgrace upon our name. I have done
what I could for you--I may do more, if necessary; but there are
circumstances in which I should not be able to help you at all, and you
know what those are."

He thought that he understood Hugo's impulsive disposition, but even he
was not prepared for the burst of passionate remorse and affection with
which the boy threw himself almost at his feet, kissing his hands and
sobbing out promises of amendment with all the abandonment of his
Southern nature. Brian was inclined to be displeased with this want of
self-control; he spoke sharply at last and told him to command himself.
But some time elapsed before Hugo regained his calmness. And when Brian
returned to the house, he could not induce his cousin to return with
him; the young fellow wandered away through the woods with drooping head
and dejected mien, and was seen no more till late at night.

He came back to the house too late to say good-bye to Brian, who had
left a few lines of farewell for him. His absence, perhaps, added a pang
to the keen pain with which Brian left his home; but if so, no trace of
it was discernible in the kindly words which he had addressed to his
cousin. He saw neither his mother nor Angela before he went; indeed, he
avoided any formal parting from the household in general, and let it be
thought that he was likely to return in a short time. But as he took
from his groom the reins of the dog-cart in which he was about to drive
down to the station, he looked round him sadly and lingeringly, with a
firm conviction at his heart that never again would his eyes rest upon
the shining loch, the purple hills, and the ivy-grown, grey walls of
Netherglen. Never again. He had said his last farewell. He had no home
now!

CHAPTER VIII.

IN GOWER-STREET.

Angela Vivian's brother Rupert was, perhaps, not unlike her in feature
and colouring, but there was a curious dissimilarity of expression
between the two. Angela's dark, grey eyes had a sweetness in which
Rupert's were lacking;