don for this and every other rude speech that I
may make, Elizabeth; and ask you to understand that I am only
translating my discontent with myself into words when I am ill-tempered.
Have a little mercy on me, for pity's sake."

She smiled. He thought there was some mockery in the smile.

"What are you laughing at?" he said, abruptly, dropping the apologetic
tone.

"I am not laughing. I was wondering that you thought it worth while to
excuse yourself for such a trifle as a rude word or two. I thought
possibly, when I came out with you, that you had other apologies to
make."

"May I ask what you mean?"

"I mean that, by your own showing, you have not been quite
straightforward," said Elizabeth, plainly. "And I thought that you might
have something to say about it."

"Not straightforward!" he repeated. It was not often that his cheeks
tingled as they tingled now. "What have I done to make you call me not
straightforward, pray?"

"You knew that I inherited this property because of Brian Luttrell's
death. You knew--did you not?--that he had only a few days to spend in
London, and that he meant to start for America this week. You must have
known that some fresh arrangement was necessary before I could honestly
enjoy any of his money--that, in fact, he ought to have it all. And,
unless he himself confided in you under a promise of secrecy, or
anything of that sort, I think you ought to have written to Mr.
Colquhoun at once."

"He did not confide in me: I did not see him. It was Dino Vasari who
sought me out and told me," said Percival, with some anger.

"And did Dino Vasari intend you to keep the matter a secret?"

"No. The real fact was, Elizabeth, that I did not altogether believe
Vasari's story. I did not in the least believe that Brian Luttrell was
living. I thought it was a hoax. Upon my word, I am half-inclined to
believe so still. I thought it was not worth while to take the trouble."

"You did not know where to find him, I suppose?"

"Well--yes; I had the address."

"And you did nothing?" she said, flashing upon him a look of indignant
surprise.

"I did nothing," returned Percival.

"That is what I complain of," she remarked, shortly.

For some time she drove on in silence, lightly flicking her ponies'
heads from time to time with her whip, her face set steadily towards the
road before her, her strong, well-gloved hands showing determination in
the very way she held the whip and reins. Percival gr