e will or no. She may
fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before
very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her
brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February.
Yes--before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife."

He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.

He did not sleep much that night. He had lately grown very wakeful, and
on this night he did not go to bed at all. The servants heard him
wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning, opening and
shutting doors, pacing the long passages, stealing up and downstairs.
One of the maids put her head out of her door, and reported that the
house was all lit up as if for a dance--rooms and corridors were
illuminated. It was one of Hugo's whims that he could not bear the dark.
When he walked the house in this way he always lighted every lamp and
candle that he could find. He fancied that strange faces looked at him
in the dark.

Confusion and distress reigned next day at Netherglen. Mr. Luttrell had
taken upon himself to dismiss one or two of the servants, and this was
resented as a liberty by the housekeeper, who had lived there long
before he had made his appearance in Scotland at all. He had paid two of
the maids a month's wages in advance, and told them to leave the house
within four-and-twenty hours. The household had already been
considerably reduced, and the indignant housekeeper immediately
announced her intention of going to Mr. Colquhoun and inquiring whether
young Mr. Luttrell had been legally empowered to manage his aunt's
affairs. And seeing that this really was her intention, Hugo smiled and
spoke her fair.

"You're a little hard on me, Mrs. Shairp," he said, in dulcet tones. "I
was going to speak to you privately about these arrangements. You, of
course, ought never to go away from Netherglen, and, whoever goes, you
shall not. You must be here to welcome Mr. Brian when he comes home
again, and to give my wife a greeting when I bring her to
Netherglen--which I hope I shall do very shortly."

"An' wha's the leddy, Maister Hugo?" said the housekeeper, a little
mollified by his words. "It'll be Miss Murray, maybe? The mistress liked
the glint of her bonny een. 'Jean,' she said to me; the day Miss Murray
cam' to pay her respects, 'Jean, yon lassie steps like a princess.'
Ye'll be nae sae far wrang, Maister Hugo, if it's Miss Murray that ye
mak' your