of a tree which grew close to the shallow water's edge, bent
his eyes upon the ground and tried to see the boy's face as little as
possible. His affection for Hugo had given him an influence over the lad
which Richard had certainly never possessed. For, generous as Richard
might be, he was not fond of his young cousin; and Hugo, being aware of
this fact, regarded him with instinctive aversion. In his own fashion he
did love Brian--a little bit!

Brian Luttrell was at this time barely three-and-twenty. He had rooms in
London, where he was supposed to be reading for the bar, but his tastes
were musical and literary, and he had not yet made much progress in his
legal studies. He had a handsome, intellectual face of a very refined
type, thoughtful dark eyes, a long, brown moustache, and small pointed
beard of the same colour. He was slighter, less muscular, than Richard;
and the comment often made upon him was that he had the look of a
dreamer, perhaps of an artist--not of a very practical man--and that he
was extremely unlike his brother. There was, indeed, a touch of unusual
and almost morbid sensitiveness in Brian's nature, which, betraying
itself, as it did, from time to time, only by a look, a word, a gesture,
yet proved his unlikeness to Richard Luttrell more than any
dissimilarity of feature could have done.

"You meant to put it back, sir!" thundered Richard, after that moment's
pause, which seemed like an eternity to Hugo. "And where did you mean to
get the money from? Steal it from some one else? Folly! lies! And for
what disgraceful reason did you take it at all? You are in debt, I
presume?"

Hugo's white lips signified assent.

"You have been gambling again?"

He bowed his head.

"I thought so. I told you three months ago that I had paid your gambling
debts for the last time. I make one exception. I will pay them once
again--with the money you have stolen, which you may keep. Much good may
it do you!" He flung the pocket-book on the turf at Hugo's feet as he
spoke. "Take it. You have paid dearly enough for it, God knows. For the
future, sir, manage your own affairs; my house is no longer open to
you."

"Don't be hard on him, Richard," said Brian, in a voice too low to reach
Hugo's ears. "Forgive him this time; he is only a boy, after all--and a
boy with a bad training."

"Will you be so good as to mind your own business, Brian?" said the
elder brother, peremptorily. The severity of his tone increased