hearts—he who would so ruthlessly act the part of tyrant and foe, as soon as his chance came? Did not even his friend, Lady Diana, continually repeat that his succession to the Trevlyn estate must inevitably mean an immediate break-up of all existing forms and usages? Was it not an understood thing that he would exercise his power without considering anything but his strict legal right? Lady Diana knew the world—that [61]world to which Randolph evidently belonged. If this was her opinion, was it not presumably the right one? She sneered openly at the suggestion her niece had once thrown out of the possibility of his granting to Arthur liberty to remain at Trevlyn. [61] “You foolish child!” she said sharply. “What is Arthur to him? Men do not make sentimental attachments to each other. Arthur has no right here, and Mr. Trevlyn will show him so very plainly when the time comes.” Was it any wonder that Monica’s heart rose in revolt against this handsome, powerful stranger, who seemed in a manner to hold her whole future in his strong hands? Was it strange she avoided him? Was it difficult to understand that she distrusted him, and that only his [62]present kindness to Arthur and the lad’s affection for him enabled her to tolerate with any kind of submission his presence in the house? [62] He tried now to make her talk of herself, of Arthur, of her home and her life there, but she became at once impenetrably silent. Her face assumed its old look of statuesque hauteur. The ride back to the Castle was a very silent one. Randolph had enjoyed the hour he had spent in the company of Lady Monica, but he could not flatter himself that much ground had been gained. [63] [63] CHAPTER THE FOURTH. CONRAD FITZGERALD. Whether Monica would ever have thawed towards him of her own free will Randolph Trevlyn could not tell; but during a sharp attack of illness that prostrated Arthur at this juncture, he was so much in the sick boy’s room, and so kind and patient and helpful there, that the girl’s coldness began insensibly to melt; and before the attack had passed, he felt that if she did not share her brother’s liking for him, at least the old antipathy, hostility, had somewhat abated. They rode out together sometimes now, exploring the country round the Castle, or galloping
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