oss. But Mrs. Luttrell did not
unclose her lips.

"Ye'll not be hard upon him, madam," said the old doctor, deprecatingly.
"Your own lad, and a lad that kneels to you for a gentle word, and will
be heartbroken if you say him nay."

"And is my heart not broken?" asked the mother, lifting her head and
looking away into the darkness of the long corridor. "The son that I
loved is dead; the boy that came to me like a little angel in the spring
of my youth--they say that he is dead and cold. I am going to look at
his face again. Come, Angela. Perhaps they have spoken falsely, and he
is alive--not murdered, after all."

"Murdered? Mother!"

Brian raised himself a little and repeated the word with shuddering
emphasis.

"Murdered!" said Mrs. Luttrell, steadily, as she turned her burning eyes
full upon the countenance of her younger son; as if to watch the
workings of his agitated features. "If not by the laws of man, by God's
laws you are guilty. You had quarrelled with him that day; and you took
your revenge. I tell you, James Muir, and you, Angela Vivian, that Brian
Luttrell took his brother's life by no mistake--that he is Richard's
murderer----"

"No; I swear it by the God who made me--no!" cried Brian, springing to
his feet.

But his mother had turned away.

CHAPTER V.

THE DEAD MAN'S TESTIMONY.

About ten o'clock at night Hugo Luttrell was seen entering the courtyard
at the back of the house, where keepers, grooms, and indoor servants
were collected in a group, discussing in low tones the event of the day.
Seeing these persons, he seemed inclined to go back by the way that he
had come; but the butler--an old Englishman who had been in the Luttrell
family before Edward Luttrell ever thought of marrying a Scotch heiress
and settling for the greater part of every year at Netherglen--this said
butler, whose name was William Whale, caught sight of the young fellow
and accosted him by name.

"Mr. Hugo, sir, there's been many inquiries after you," he began in a
lugubrious tone of voice.

"After me, William?" Hugo looked frightened and uneasy. "What for?"

"You won't have heard of the calamity that has come upon the house,"
said William, shaking his head solemnly; "and it will be a great shock
to you, no doubt, sir; a terrible shock. Stand back, you men, there; let
Mr. Hugo pass. Come into the housekeeper's room, sir. There's a fire in
it; the night has turned chilly. Go softly, if you please, sir."

Hu