It was Guy, his cousin, the man whose wife he loved, the man whose home he intended to destroy, and, even wrapped as he was in his triple armour of pride, egotism, and self-complacency, he felt the sting of remorse. It was too late, however, to think of such things, he having fully made up his mind to act; so he crushed down the feeling which might have made him a better man, and went forward to meet his cousin, who was walking smartly along the beach. Eighteen months had not made much change in Errington, save that he was a little stouter, but he looked as handsome as ever, only there was a discontented look on his face, as if he were thoroughly dissatisfied with his life, as indeed he was. He had evidently ridden over, as he was in a riding dress, and he advanced towards Eustace with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his hunting crop with which he carelessly switched his boots. "Well, dear old fellow, I am glad to see you again," he said, coming to his cousin and holding out his hand. "You are very kind, Guy," faltered Eustace, quietly shaking hands, with the feeling of remorse again dominant in his breast. "I was going over to see you this afternoon." "Were you?" said Errington, listlessly. "Oh, yes!--of course, but I heard at the village you had come to Castle Grim, so, as I was mounted, I thought I'd come on here. I've left my horse with that old Caliban of yours and came down to look you up." "I'm very glad to see you," returned Eustace, turning away his head. "Shall we go back to the house?" "No, not yet," responded Errington, throwing himself down on the dry sand. "Let us talk here. I want to speak to you privately, Eustace, and this is the best place." Gartney knew in his own mind that Errington wanted to speak about his wife, so sat down near the recumbent form of his cousin, and waited for him to begin the conversation. Nothing was said, however, until, after a moment's silence, Guy looked up at Gartney's face with a frown. "Good Lord, man, have you left your tongue behind in Arabia?" he said roughly, leaning his cheek on his hand. Eustace laughed a little bitterly. "Perhaps it would have been as well if I had done so," he said deliberately, "it might save my soul the burden of many lies." "As whimsical as ever!" "Do you think so? No doubt! Solitude is rather apt to confirm a man in his eccentric habits. By-the-way, you have not told me how your wife is?" "Quite well," replied Errington shortly. "And the son and heir, on whose birth I must congratulate you?" "Oh, he's all right." Guy spoke this last sentence in such a bitter tone that Eustace could not help turning round and looking at him. He was gazing moodily at the sand, but glanced upward, as he felt rather than saw that Gartney had turned round, and smiled ironically. "You seem surprised?" he said at length. "I am surprised," answered Eustace deliberately. "When I saw you in Italy, you spoke very differently--very differently indeed."