uring him a larger slice of good fortune than would otherwise have
fallen to his share. And, therefore, in a few days after Mrs. Luttrell's
seizure, Hugo was once again at Netherglen, ruling even more openly and
imperiously than he had done in the days of his aunt's health and
strength. His presence there, and Mrs. Luttrell's helplessness, caused
some of Angela Vivian's friends to object seriously to her continued
residence at Netherglen. She was still a young woman of considerable
beauty; and Hugo was two-and-twenty. Of what use could she be to Mrs.
Luttrell? She ought, at any rate, to have an older friend to chaperone
her, to be with her in her walks and drives, and be present at the meals
which she and Hugo now shared alone. Angela took little notice of the
remonstrance of aunts and cousins, but when she heard that her brother
Rupert was coming to stay at the Herons, and proposed to spend a day or
two at Netherglen on his way thither, she felt a qualm of fear. Rupert
was very careful of his sister: she felt sure that she would never be
permitted to do what he thought in the least degree unbecoming.

Meanwhile, the man who had resolved to be known as Dino Vasari for his
lifetime--or at least until he laid down his name, together with his
will, his affections, and all his other possessions at the door of the
religious house which he desired to enter, was hastening towards his old
home, his birthplace, (whether he was Dino Vasari or Brian Luttrell)
under sunny Italian skies. He did not quite dare to think how he should
be received. He had thwarted the plans of the far-seeing monks: he had
made their anxious efforts for his welfare of no avail. He had thrown
away the chance of an inheritance which might have been used for the
benefit of his Church: would the rulers of that Church easily forgive
him?

He reached San Stefano at night, and took up his quarters at the inn,
whence he wrote a letter to the Prior, asking to be allowed to see him,
and hinting at his wish to enter the monastery for life. Perhaps the
humility of the tone of his epistle made Father Cristoforo suspect that
something was wrong. To begin with, Dino was not supposed to act without
the advice of those who had hitherto been his guardians, and he had
committed an act of grave insubordination in leaving England without
their permission. The priest to whom he had reported himself on his
arrival in London, had already complained to Father Cristoforo of the