"You forget——"
"What do I forget? This business about his identity is all happily over, and he is married to the woman of his choice. I wish I had half his luck!"
"You have forgotten, Mr. Heron," said Angela, in a tone that showed how deeply she was moved, "that Brian has had a great sorrow—a great loss. I do not think life can ever be the same to him again—as it can never be the same to me—since—Richard—died."
Her voice sank and faltered. For an instant there was a silence, in which Percival felt shocked and embarrassed at his own want of thought. He had forgotten. He had been thinking solely of Brian's relations with Elizabeth. It had not occurred to him for a long time that Angela had once been on the point of marriage with the man—the brother—whom Brian Luttrell had shot dead at Netherglen.
He said, "I beg your pardon," in a constrained, reluctant voice, and sat in silence, feeling that he ought to go, yet not liking to tear himself away. For the first time he was struck by the beauty of Angela's patience. How she must have suffered! he thought to himself, as he remembered her sisterly care of Brian, her silence about her own great loss, her quiet acceptance of the inevitable. And he had prosed by the hour to this woman about his own griefs and love-troubles! What an egotist she must think him! What a fool! Percival felt hot about the ears with self-contempt. He rose to go, feeling that he should not venture to present himself to her again very easily. He did not even like to say that he was ashamed of his lapse of memory.
Angela rose, too. She would have spoken sooner, but she had been swallowing down the rising tears. She very seldom mentioned Richard Luttrell now.
They were standing, still silent, in this attitude of expectancy—each thinking that the other would speak first—when the door opened, and Mr. Vivian came in. Percival hailed his arrival with a feeling between impatience and relief. Rupert wanted him to stay, but he said that he must go at once; business called him away.
"There is a letter for you, Angela," said Vivian. "It was on the hall-table. Fane gave it me. I hope my sister has been scolding you for not coming to the wedding, Heron. It went off very well, but we wanted you. Have you heard the latest news from Egypt?"
And then they launched into a discussion of politics, from which they were presently diverted by a remark made by Angela as she laid her hand gently on Rupert's arm.
"Excuse me," she said. "I think I had better show both you and Mr. Heron this letter. It is from Mrs. Hugo Luttrell."