"The Western Scotsman."
"And it was he who gave Mr. Bethune a letter of introduction to you?"
But here Lord Musselburgh's manner instantly changed: he had been answering these questions in a careless way, looking out of the carriage window most of the time: now he turned to his companion, and regarded him with some scrutiny.
"Why do you ask, Vin?" he said. "Do you want to find out something further about the old man?"
Vincent's forehead flushed; and his eyes gloomed dark.
"I do not," he made answer, in distinct tones. "I thank goodness my nature is not so suspicious. It seems to me extraordinary that two human beings who have done nothing in the world to deserve it should be regarded with a constant mistrust and doubt. Why? Do you suspect everybody else in the same way?"
"Oh, don't say that I suspect them," Lord Musselburgh exclaimed at once—for he was an exceedingly good-natured young man and had no wish to offend. "I don't know them well enough—don't know anything at all about them, in fact."
"You told me yourself that my aunt and you had been talking them over; and I gathered enough from what you said," was the younger man's retort.
"Mrs. Ellison is naturally anxious about anything that concerns your future, Vin—or seems likely to concern it," Musselburgh said. "And you should be the last to object."
"But I do object," he said, stiffly. "I object altogether to her canvassing the character of any friends of mine; and to her putting her doubts and suspicions and hints about them into any third person's imaginations. Oh, yes, I could make out quite clearly what she had been saying. That night at Henley she came on a visit of inspection; it was perfectly obvious. And what is more, she came with the hope of having her suspicions confirmed; and I suppose she was horribly disappointed that Maisrie Bethune did not drop her h's, and that Mr. Bethune did not beg the loan of a sovereign from her!"