ble servant."

Rupert threw himself back into his chair again as if relieved, and a
half-smile crossed his countenance.

"How is Miss Murray?" he asked, rather maliciously.

"Very well, as far as I know," said Percival, turning over a page and
smoothing out the "Review" upon his knee. He read on for two or three
minutes more, then suddenly tossed the book from him, gave it a
contemptuous kick, and discovered that his cigar had gone out. He got
up, walked to the mantelpiece, found a match, and lighted it, and then
said, deliberately--

"They've done a devilish imprudent thing out there."

"What?"

"Hired a fellow as tutor to the boys without references or
recommendations, solely because he was good-looking, as far as I can
make out."

"Who told you?"

"My father."

"Did he do it?"

"He and Elizabeth between them. Kitty sings his praises in every letter.
He teaches the girls Italian."

Rupert said nothing.

"So I am going to Italy chiefly to see what the fellow is like. I can't
make out whether he is young or old. Kitty calls him divinely handsome;
and my father speaks of his grey hairs."

"And Miss Murray?"

"Miss Murray," said Percival, rather slowly, "doesn't speak of him at
all." Then, he added, in quicker tones--"Doubtless he isn't worth her
notice. Elizabeth can be a very grand lady when she likes. Upon my word,
Vivian, there are times when I wonder that she ever deigned to bestow a
word or look even upon me!"

"You are modest," said Rupert, drily.

"Modesty's my foible; it always was. So, Hey for the sunny South, as I
said before.

'O, swallow, swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.'

Any message for the swallow, sir?" touching an imaginary cap. "Shall I
say that 'Dark and true and tender is the North,' and 'Fierce and false
and fickle is the South,' or any similar statement?"

"I have no message," said Rupert.

"So be it. Do you know anything of young Luttrell--Hugo
Luttrell--by-the-bye?"

"Very little. My sister is interested in him."

"He is going to the bad at an uncommonly swift pace--that is all."

"Old Mrs. Luttrell talks of making him her heir," said Vivian. "She
asked him down last winter but he wouldn't go."

"I don't wonder at it. She must be a very tough old lady if she thinks
that he could shoot there with much pleasure after his cousin's
accident."

"I don't suppose that Mr