ess of heart,
and that it would not be valid in a court at all; but that nothing
farther can be done, as he does not press his claim, until Brian
Luttrell comes back to England or writes instructions. There might be a
friendly suit when he came; but that would be left for him (and, I
suppose, myself) to decide. When he comes we shall try to get Dino
Vasari back, and have a friendly consultation over the matter. I don't
see why we need have lawyers to interfere at all. I should resign the
property with a very good grace, but Mr. Colquhoun thinks that Mr.
Luttrell will have scruples."

"He ought to have," muttered Percival, but Elizabeth took no notice.

"It seems that he went in a sailing vessel," she went on, in a perfectly
calm and collected voice, "because he could get a very cheap passage in
that way. Mr. Colquhoun proposes that we should write to Pernambuco; but
he might not be expecting any letters--he might miss them--and go up the
country; there is no knowing. I think that a responsible, intelligent
person ought to be sent out by a fast steamer and wait for him at
Pernambuco. Then everything would be satisfactorily explained and
enforced--better than by letter. Mr. Colquhoun says he feels inclined to
go himself."

She gave a soft, pleased laugh as she said the words; but there was
excitement and trouble underneath its apparent lightness. "That, of
course, would never do; but he has a clerk whom he can thoroughly trust,
and he will start next week for the Brazils."

Percival sat mute. Had she no idea that he was suffering? She went on
quickly.

"Mr. Salt--that is the clerk's name--will reach Pernambuco many days
before the sailing vessel; but it is better that he should be too early
than too late. They may even pass the _Falcon_--that is the name of Mr.
Luttrell's ship--on the way. The worst is"--and here her voice began to
tremble--"that Mr. Colquhoun has heard a report that the _Falcon_ was
not--not--quite--sea-worthy."

She put up one gloved hand and dashed a tear from her eyes. Percival's
silence exasperated her. For almost the first time she turned upon him
with a reproach.

"Will you remember," she said, bitterly, "if his ship goes to the
bottom, that you might have stopped him, and--did not think it worth
while to take the trouble?"

"Good God, Elizabeth, how unjust you are!" cried Percival, impetuously.

Elizabeth did not answer. She had to put up her hand again and again to
wipe away her tears