"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course, I've—I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk. But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."
Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit, and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly about Dunmuir till they came back.
Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance, although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to drive away, baffled and impatient.
"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"
"Yes, very bright."
"And the sky is clear?"
"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the north-west; we shall have rain to-night."
They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating tone:—
"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a little way behind us."
"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she young?"