ed at Elizabeth, and then back at Brian, and finished his
sentence--"both want to marry the same woman?"

"Heron, you are going too far. Don't make these allusions; they are
unsuitable," said Brian.

Elizabeth had winced as if she had received a blow. Percival laughed in
their faces.

"Out of taste, isn't it?" he said. "I ought to ignore the circumstances
under which we meet, and talk as if we were in a drawing-room. I'm not
such a fool. Look here, you two: let us talk sensibly. I have surely a
right to demand something of you both, have I not?"

"Yes, yes, indeed," they answered.

"Then, for Heaven's sake, speak the truth! Here have I been chasing
Brian half over the world, getting myself shipwrecked and thrown on
desert islands, and what not, all because I wanted you, Elizabeth, to
acknowledge that I was not such a mean and selfish wretch as you
concluded me to be. Have I cleared myself? or, perhaps I should say,
have I expiated the crime that I did commit?"

"It was no crime," said Brian, warmly. "No one who knows you could think
you capable of meanness."

"I was not speaking to you, Mr. Luttrell," said Percival. "You're not in
it at all. I am having a little conversation with my cousin. Well,
Elizabeth, what do you say?"

"I think you have been most kind and generous," she said.

"Then I may retire with a good character? And, to come back to what I
said before, as we both wish----"

"You are not generous now, Heron," said Brian, quickly.

"No! But I will be--sometime. You seem very anxious to repudiate all
desire to marry my cousin. Have you changed your mind?"

"Percival, I will not listen. Have you brought me here only to insult
me?" cried Elizabeth, passionately.

Percival smiled. "I am waiting for Brian Luttrell's answer," he replied,
looking at him steadily.

"I do not know what answer you expect," said Brian, "unless you want me
to say the truth--that I loved Elizabeth Murray with all my heart and
soul, before I knew that she had promised to be your wife; and that as I
loved her then, I love her still. It is my misfortune--or my
privilege--to do so; I scarcely know which. And for that reason, as you
know, I have earnestly wished never to cross her path again, lest I
should trouble her or distress her in any way."

"Fate has been against you," said Percival, grimly. "You seem destined
to cross her path in one way or another--and mine, too. It is time all
this came to an end. You think I am sa