cover some trace of a human being in
the distance, whose attention she perhaps might catch if one could only
be seen, she heard the door open and close again. She knew the footstep:
it was neither that of the deaf girl nor of the man Stevens. It was Hugo
Luttrell coming once more to plead his cause or lay his commands upon
her.

She turned round unwillingly and glanced at him with a faint hope that
the night might have brought him to some change of purpose. But although
the excitement of the previous evening had disappeared, there was no
sign of relenting in his face. He came up to her and tried to take her
hand.

"_Nuit porte conseil_," he began. "Have you thought better of last
night's diversions? Have you arrived at any decision yet?"

"Oh, Hugo," she burst out, clasping her hands, "don't speak to me in
that sneering, terrible way. Have a little pity upon me. Let me go
home!"

"You shall go home to-morrow, if you will go as my wife, Kitty."

"But you know that can never be," she expostulated. "How can you expect
me to be your wife after all that you have made me suffer? Do you think
I could ever love you as a wife should do? You would be miserable; and
I--I--should break my heart." She burst into tears as she concluded, and
wrung her hands together.

"Why did you make me suffer if you want me to pity you now?" said Hugo,
in a low, merciless tone. "You used me shamefully: you know you did. I
swore then to have my revenge; and I have it now. For every one of the
tears you shed now, I have shed drops of my heart's blood. It is nothing
to me if you suffer: your pain is nothing to what mine was when you cast
me off like an old glove because your fancy had settled on Rupert
Vivian. You shall feel your master now: you shall be mine and mine only;
not his, nor any other's. I will have my revenge."

"My fancy had settled on Rupert Vivian!" repeated Kitty, with a sudden
rush of colour to her face. "Ah, how little you know about it! Rupert
Vivian is far above me: he does not care for me. You have no business to
speak of him."

"He does not care for you, but you are in love with him," said Hugo,
looking at her from between his narrowed eyelids with a long penetrating
gaze. "I understand."

Kitty shrank away from him. "No, no!" she cried. "I am not in love with
anyone."

"I know better," said Hugo. "I have seen it a long time: seen it in a
thousand ways. You made no secret of it, you know. You threw yourself in
his