"Could you not? Oh, you are short-sighted, perhaps. Ah! there go Hugo and Johnny. This is better than being grown-up, I think. Am I like the little girl that you used to know in Gower-street now, Mr. Vivian?"

It was perhaps her naming Hugo so familiarly that caused Rupert to reply, with a smile that was more cutting than reproof would have been:--

"I prefer the little girl in Gower-street still."

From the colour that instantly overspread her face and neck, he saw that she was hurt or offended--he did not know which. She left his side immediately, and plunged into the game with renewed ardour. She played until Hugo left the house about seven o'clock; and then she rushed up to her room and bolted herself in with unnecessary violence. She came down to dinner in a costume as different as possible from the one which she had worn in the afternoon. Her dress was of some shining white stuff, very long, very much trimmed, cut very low at the neck; her hair was once more touzled, curled and pinned, in its most elaborate fashion; and her gold necklet and bracelets were only fit for a dinner-party. It is to be feared that Rupert Vivian did not admire her taste in dress. If she had worn white cotton it would had pleased him better.

There was a wall between them once more. She was more conscious of it than he was, but he did not perceive that something was wrong. He saw that she would not look at him, would not speak to him; he supposed that he had offended her. He himself was aware of an increasing feeling of dissatisfaction--whether with her, or with her circumstances, he could not define--and this feeling found expression in a sentence which he addressed to her two days after the game of battledore and shuttlecock.

Hugo had been to the house again, and had been even less guarded than usual in his love-making. Kitty meant to put a stop to it sooner or later; but she did not quite know how to do it (not having had much experience in these matters, in spite of the coquettishness which Rupert attributed to her), and also she did not want to do it just at present, because of her instinctive knowledge of the fact that it annoyed Mr.

Vivian. She was too much of a child to know that she was playing with edged tools.

So she allowed Hugo a very long hand-clasp when he said good-bye, and held a whispered consultation with him at the door in a confidential manner, which put Rupert very much out of temper. Then she came back to the drawing-room fire, laughing a little, with an air of pretty triumph.

Rupert was leaning against the mantelpiece; no one else was in the room.

Kitty knelt down on the rug, and warmed her hands at the fire.

"We have such a delightful secret, Hugo and I," she said, brightly. "You would never guess what it was. Shall I tell it to you?"

"No," he answered, shortly.

"No?" She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "You are not very polite to me, Mr. Vivian!" she said, half-playfully, half-pettishly.

"I do not wish to share any secret that you and Mr. Hugo Luttrell may have between you," said Rupert, with emphasis.

Kitty's face changed a little. "Don't you like him?" she said, in a rather timid voice.

"Before I answer I should like to know whether you are engaged to marry him," said Mr. Vivian.

"Certainly not. I never dreamt of such a thing. You ought not to ask such a question," said Kitty, turning scarlet.

"I suppose I ought not. I beg your pardon. But I thought it was the case."

"Why should you think so?" said Kitty, turning her face away from him.

"You would have heard about it, you know--and besides--nobody ever thought of such a thing."

"Excuse me: Mr. Luttrell seems to have thought of it," said Rupert, with rather an angry laugh.

"What Mr. Luttrell thinks of is no business of yours," said Kitty.

"You cannot deny it then!" exclaimed Vivian, with a mixture of bitterness and sarcastic triumph in his tone.

She made no answer. He could not see her face, but the way in which she was twisting her fingers together spoke of some agitation. He tried to master himself; but he was under the empire of an emotion of which he himself had not exactly grasped the meaning nor estimated the power. He walked to the window and back again somewhat uncertainly; then paused at about two yards' distance from her kneeling figure, and addressed her in a voice which he kept carefully free from any trace of excitement.

"I have no right to speak, I know," he said, "and, if I were not so much older than yourself, or if I had not promised to be your friend, Kitty, I would keep silence. I want you to be on your guard with that man. He is not the sort of man that you ought to encourage, or whom you would find any happiness in loving."

"I thought it was not considered generous for one man to blacken another's character behind his back," said Kitty, quickly.

"Well, you are right, it is not. If I had put myself into rivalry with Hugo Luttrell, of course, I should have to hold my tongue. But as I am only an outsider--an old friend who takes a kindly interest in the child that he has seen grow up--I think I am justified in saying, Kitty, that I do not consider young Luttrell worthy of you."

The calm, unimpassioned tones produced their usual effect on poor Kitty.

She felt thoroughly crushed. And yet there was a rising anger in her heart. What reason had Rupert Vivian to hold himself so far aloof from her? Was he not Percival's friend? Why should he look down from such heights of superiority upon Percival's sister?

"I speak to you in this way," Rupert went on, with studied quietness, "because you have less of the guardianship usually given to girls of your age than most girls have. Mrs. Heron is, I know, exceedingly kind and amiable, but she has her own little ones to think of, and then she, too, is young. Miss Murray, although sensible and right-thinking in every way, is too near your own age to be a guide for you. Percival is away. Therefore, you must let me take an elder brother's place to you for once, and warn you when I see that you are in danger."

Kitty had risen from her knees, and was now standing, with her face still averted, and her lips hidden by a feather fan which she had taken from the mantelpiece. There was a sharper ring in her voice as she replied.

"You seem to think I need warning. You seem to think I cannot take care of myself. You have reminded me once or twice lately that I was a woman now and not a child. Pray, allow me the woman's privilege of choosing for myself."

"I am sorry to have displeased you," said Vivian, gravely. "Am I to understand that my warning comes too late?"

There was a moment's pause before she answered coldly:--

"Quite too late."

"Your choice has fallen upon Hugo Luttrell?"

Kitty was stripping the feathers ruthlessly from her fan. She answered with an agitated little laugh:

"That is not a fair question. You had better ask him."

"I think I do not need," said Rupert. Then, in a low and rather ironical tone, he added, "Pray accept my congratulations." She bowed her head with a scornful smile, and let him leave the room without another word.

What was the use of speaking? The severance was complete between them now.

They had quarrelled before, but Kitty felt, bitterly enough, that now they were not quarrelling. She had built up a barrier between them which he was the last man to tear down. He would simply turn his back upon her now and go his own way. And she did not know how to call him back. She felt vaguely that her innocent little wiles were lost upon him. She might put on her prettiest dresses, and sing her sweetest songs, but they would never cause him to linger a moment longer by her side than was absolutely necessary. He had given her up.

She felt, too, with a great swelling of heart, that her roused pride had made her imply what was not true. He would always think that she was engaged to Hugo Luttrell. She had, at least, made him understand that she was prepared to accept Hugo when he proposed to her. And all the world knew that Hugo meant to propose--Kitty herself knew it best of all.

The day came on which Rupert was to return to London. Scarcely a word had been interchanged between him and Kitty since the conversation which has been recorded. She thought, as she stole furtive glances towards him from time to time, that he looked harassed, and even depressed, but in manner he was more cheerful than it was his custom to be. When the time came for saying good-bye, he held out his hand to her with a kindly smile.

"Come, Kitty," he said, "let us be friends."

Her heart gave a wild leap which seemed almost to suffocate her; she looked up into his face with changing colour and eager eyes.

"I am sorry," she began, with a little gasp. "I did not mean all I said the other day, and I wanted to tell you----"

To herself it seemed as if these words were a tremendous self-betrayal; to Vivian they were less than nothing--commonplace sentences enough; uttered in a frightened, childish tone.

"Did you not mean it all?" he said, giving her hand a friendly pressure.

"Well, never mind; neither did I. We are quits, are we not? I will not obtrude my advice upon you again, and you must forgive me for having already done so. Good-bye, my dear child; I trust you will be happy."

"I shall never be happy," said Kitty, withdrawing her hand from his, "never, never, never!" And then she burst into tears and rushed out of the room.

Vivian looked after her with a slightly puzzled expression, but did not attempt to call her back.

It was not a very favourable day for Hugo's suit, and he was received that afternoon in anything but a sunshiny mood by Miss Heron. For almost the first time she snubbed him unmercifully, but he had been treated with so much graciousness on all previous occasions that the snubs did not produce very much impression upon him. And, finding himself alone with her for a few minutes, he was rash enough to make the venture upon which he had set his heart, without considering whether he had chosen the best moment for the experiment or not. Accordingly, he failed. A few brief words passed between them, but the few were sufficient to convince Hugo Luttrell that he had never won Kitty Heron's heart. To his infinite surprise and mortification, she refused his offer of marriage most decidedly.