"Nonsense, do you call it? You will give it a very different name before long, my fair Kitty. Do you think I am in play? Do you think I should risk--what I have risked, if I meant to gain nothing by it? I am in sober, solemn earnest, and know very well what I am doing, and what I want to gain." "What can you gain," said Kitty, boldly facing him, "except disgrace and punishment? What do you think my father will say to you for bringing me away from Edinburgh on false pretences? What will you tell my brother when he comes home?" "As for your brother," said Hugo, with a sneer, "he is not very likely to come home again at all. His ship has been wrecked, and all lives lost. As for your father----" He was interrupted by a passionate cry from the girl's pale lips. "Wrecked! Percival's ship lost! Oh, it cannot be true!" "It is true enough--at least report says so. It may be a false report!" "It must be a false report! You would not have the heart to tell me the news so cruelly if it were true! But no, I forgot. You made me believe that my father was dying; you do not mind being cruel. Still, I don't believe you. I shall never again believe a word you say. Oh! Percival, Percival!" And then, to prove how little she believed him, Kitty burst into tears, and pressed her handkerchief to her face. Hugo stood and watched her earnestly, and she, on looking up, found his eyes fixed upon her. The gaze brought back all her ire. "Order the carriage for me at once, and let me go out of your sight," she said. "I cannot bear to look at you!" Kitty was not dignified in her wrath, but she was so pretty that Hugo's lips curled with a smile of enjoyment. At the same time he felt that he must bring her to a sense of her position. She had not as yet the least notion of what he meant to require of her. And it would be better that she should understand. He folded his arms and leant against the door as he spoke. "You are not going away just yet," he said. "I have got my pretty bird caged at last, and she may beat her wings against the bars as much as she pleases, but she will not leave her cage until she is a little tamer than she is now. When she can sing to the tune I will teach her, I will let her go." "What do you mean?" said Kitty. "Stand away from the door, Mr. Luttrell. I want to pass." "I will stand aside presently and let you go--as far as the doors will let you. But just now you must listen to me." "I will not listen. I will call the servants," she said, pulling a bell-handle which she had found beside the mantelpiece. "Ring as much as you please. Nobody will come. The bell-wire has been cut." "Then I will call. Somebody must hear." "My man, Stevens, may hear, perhaps. But he will not come unless I summon him." "But the other servants----"