“Come, Randolph, don’t be so mysterious and so revengeful. Let us have the whole story, and judge for ourselves.”

“Excuse me, Arthur; but the life of Sir Conrad Fitzgerald is not one that I choose [82]to discuss. His affairs are no concern of mine, nor, if you will pardon my saying so, any concern of yours, either. You are at liberty to renew past friendship with him if it pleases you to do so; but it is useless to ask me to do the same.”

[82]

And with that Randolph rose, and quitted the room without another word.

“There is something odd about it all,” said Arthur, who was inclined to indulge a good deal of curiosity about other people’s affairs: “but I think Conrad behaves the better of the two.”

Monica quietly assented; but perhaps she might have changed her opinion had she heard the muttered threats breathed by Conrad as he rode across the darkening moor:

“So, Randolph Trevlyn, our paths have [83]crossed once more! I have vowed vengeance upon you to your very face, and perhaps my day has come at last. I see through you. I see the game you are playing. I will baulk you, if I can; but in any case I will have my revenge.”

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[84]

[84]

CHAPTER THE FIFTH. SUNDAY AT TREVLYN.

It was Sunday, and Monica, with Randolph beside her, was making her way by the path along the cliff towards the little old church perched high upon the crags, between Trevlyn and St. Maws, but nearer to the town than the Castle. Randolph had found out the ways of the house by this time. He knew now that Monica played the organ in the little church, that she started early and walked across the downs, instead of going in the carriage with her father and aunt. He knew that she generally lunched with the Pendrills between services, [85]and that one of her cousins walked back with her to the Castle, and spent an hour with Arthur afterwards.

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