Miss Murray to touch a farthing of it either."

"You must persuade her," said Brian, calmly. "I think you will
understand my feeling, when I say that I would rather she had it--she
and you--than anybody in the world."

"You must come back. I promised to bring you back," returned Percival,
with some agitation of manner. "I said that I would not go back without
you."

"I will write to Mr. Colquhoun and explain."

"Confound it! What Colquhoun thinks does not signify. It is Elizabeth
whom I promised."

"Well," said Brian slowly, and with some difficulty, "I think I can
explain it to her, too, if you will let me write to her."

Percival suppressed a groan.

"Why should I go back?" asked Luttrell. "I see no reason."

"And I wish you did not drive me to tell you the reason," said Percival,
in crabbed, reluctant tones. "But it must come, sooner or later. If you
won't go for any other reason, will you go when I tell you that
Elizabeth Murray cares for you as she never cared for me, and never will
care for any other man in the world? That was why I came to fetch you
back; and, if you don't find it a reason for going back and marrying
her, why--you deserve to stop on the Rocas Reef for the remainder of
your natural life!"

CHAPTER XL.

KITTY.

Winter had come to our cold northern isles. The snow lay thick upon the
ground, but a sharp frost had made it hard and crisp. It sparkled in a
flood of brilliant sunshine; the air was fresh and exhilarating, the sky
transparently blue. It was a pleasant day for walking, and one that Miss
Kitty Heron seemed thoroughly to enjoy, as she trod the white carpet
with which nature had provided the world.

She carried a little basket on her arm: a basket filled with good things
for some children in a cottage not far from Strathleckie. The good
things were of Elizabeth's providing; but Kitty acted as her almoner.
Kitty was a very charming almoner, with her slight, graceful little
figure and _mignonne_ face set off by a great deal of brown fur and a
dress of deep Indian red. The sharpness in the air brought a faint
colour to her cheeks--Kitty was generally rather pale--and a new
brightness to her pretty eyes. There was something delightfully
bewitching about her: something provoking and coquettish: something of
which Hugo Luttrell was pleasantly conscious as he came down the road to
meet her and then walked for a little way at her side.

They did not say very much. There were a