n her house. Does she know?"

Hugo deliberated a little. "No," he answered, "I am sure that she does
not."

Dino rose to his feet. "It is impossible," he said, with an indignant
flash of his dark eyes, which startled Hugo; "Brian would never be so
base."

"My only wonder is," murmured Hugo, reflectively, "that Brian should be
so clever."

"You call it clever?" said Dino, still more indignantly. "You call it
clever to deceive a woman, to marry her for her money, to mislead her
about one's name? Are these your English fashions? Is it clever to break
your word, to throw away the love and the help that is offered you, to
show yourself selfish, and designing, and false? This is what you tell
me about the man whom you call your cousin, and then you ask me to
admire his behaviour? Oh, no, I do not admire it. I call it mean, and
base, and vile. And that is why he would not come to see me himself;
that is why he sent you as an emissary. He could not look me in the face
and tell me the things that you have told me!"

He sat down again. The fire died out of his eyes, the hectic colour from
his cheek. "But I do not believe it!" he said, more sorrowfully than
angrily; and in a much lower voice; "I do not believe that he means to
do this thing. He was always good and always true."

Hugo watched him, and spoke after a little pause. "You had his letter,"
he said. "He told you to believe what I said to you. I could explain his
views."

"Ah, but look you, perhaps you do not understand," said Dino, turning
towards him with renewed vivacity. "It is a hard position, this of mine.
Ever since I was a little child, it was hinted to me that I had English
parents, that I did not belong to the Vasari family. When I grew older,
the whole story of Vincenza's change of the children was told to me, and
I used to think of the Italian boy who had taken my place, and wonder
whether he would be sorry to exchange it for mine. I was not sorry; I
loved my own life in the monastery. I wanted to be a priest. But I
thought of the boy who bore my name; I wove fancies about him night and
day; I wished with all my heart to see him. I used to think that the day
would come when I should say to him--'Let us know each other; let us
keep our secret, but love each other nevertheless. You can be Brian
Luttrell, and I will be Dino Vasari, as long as the world lasts. We will
not change. But we will be friends.'"

His voice grew husky; he leaned his head upon his