calm
in her fixed eyes and white face; "both lost in the great, wild sea. We
shall see them no more--no more." She paused, and then added in a much
lower voice, as if speaking to herself: "I shall go to them, but they
will not return to me."

Her strength seemed to give way. She walked a few steps unsteadily,
threw up her hands as if to save herself, and without a word and without
a cry, fell in a dead faint to the ground.

CHAPTER XLVI.

A MERE CHANCE.

Vivian went back to London on the following morning, taking Mason with
him. He had heard what made him anxious to leave Strathleckie before any
accidental meeting with Hugo Luttrell should take place. The story told
of Kitty's marriage was that she had eloped with Hugo; and Mr. Heron, in
talking the matter over with his son's friend, declared that an
elopement had been not only disgraceful, but utterly unnecessary, since
he should never have thought of opposing the marriage. He had been
exceedingly angry at first; and now, although he received Kitty at
Strathleckie, he treated her with great coldness, and absolutely refused
to speak to Hugo at all.

In a man of Mr. Heron's easy temperament, these manifestations of anger
were very strong; and Vivian felt even a little surprised that he took
the matter so much to heart. He himself was not convinced that the whole
truth of the story had been told: he was certain, at any rate, that Hugo
Luttrell had dragged Kitty's name through the mire in a most
unjustifiable way, and he felt a strong desire to wreak vengeance upon
him. For Kitty's sake, therefore, it was better that he should keep out
of the way: he did not want to quarrel with her husband, and he knew
that Hugo would not be sorry to find a cause of dispute with him.

He could not abandon the hope of some further news of the _Arizona_ and
the _Falcon_. He questioned Mason repeatedly concerning the shipwrecked
men who had been taken on board but he obtained little information. And
yet he could not be content. It became a regular thing for Vivian to be
seen, day after day, in the shipowners' offices, at Lloyd's, at the
docks, asking eagerly for news, or, more frequently, turning his
sightless eyes and anxious face from one desk to another, as the
careless comments of the clerks upon his errand fell upon his ear.
Sometimes his secretary came with him: sometimes, but, more seldom, a
lady. For Angela was living with him now, and she was as anxious about
Brian a