hands for a few
moments, and did not speak. Hugo still watched him curiously. He was
interested in the revelation of a nature so different from his own;
interested, but contemptuous of it, too.

"I could dream in this way," said Dino at last, "so long as no land--no
money--was concerned. While Brian Luttrell was the second son the
exchange of children was, after all, of very little consequence. When
Richard Luttrell died, the position of things was changed. If he had
lived, you would never have heard of Vincenza Vasari's dishonesty. The
priests knew that there would be little to be gained by it. But when he
died my life became a burden to me, because they were always saying--'Go
and claim your inheritance. Go to Scotland and dispossess the man who
lords it over your lands, and spends your revenues. Take your rights.'"

"And then you met Brian?" said Hugo, as the narrator paused again.

"I met him and I loved him. I was sorry for his unhappiness. He learnt
the story that I had known for so many years, and it galled him. He
refused to see the man who really ought to have borne his name. He knew
me well enough, but he never suspected that I was Mr. Luttrell's son. We
parted at San Stefano with friendly words; he did not suspect that I was
leaving the place because I could not bear to see him day by day
brooding over his grief, and never tell him that I did not wish to take
his place."

"But why did you not tell him?"

"I was ordered to keep silence. The Prior said that he would tell him
the whole story in good time. They sent me away, and, after a time, I
heard from Father Cristoforo that he was gone, and had found a tutorship
in an English family, that he vowed never to bear the name of Luttrell
any more, and that the way was open for me to claim my own rights, as
the woman Vincenza Vasari had been found and made confession."

"So you came to England with that object?"

"With the object, first," said Dino, lifting his face from his crossed
arms, "of seeing him and asking him whether he was resolved to despoil
himself of his name and fortune. I would not have raised a hand to do
either, but, if he himself did it, I thought that I might pick up what
he threw away. Not for myself, but for the Church to which I belong. The
Church should have it all."

"Would you give it away?" cried Hugo.

"I am to be a monk. A monk has no property," was Dino's answer. "I
wanted to be sure that he did not repent of his decision bef