‘Frederick!’ exclaimed Mr. Thornton.  ‘Who is he?  What right—?’ Me stopped short in his vehement question.

‘Frederick,’ said Mr. Bell in surprise.  ’Why don’t you know?  He’s her brother.  Have you not heard—­’

‘I never heard his name before.  Where is he?  Who is he?’

’Surely I told you about him, when the family first came to Milton—­the son who was concerned in that mutiny.’

‘I never heard of him till this moment.  Where does he live?’

’In Spain.  He’s liable to be arrested the moment he sets foot on English ground.  Poor fellow! he will grieve at not being able to attend his father’s funeral.  We must be content with Captain Lennox; for I don’t know of any other relation to summon.’

‘I hope I may be allowed to go?’

’Certainly; thankfully.  You’re a good fellow, after all, Thornton.  Hale liked you.  He spoke to me, only the other day, about you at Oxford.  He regretted he had seen so little of you lately.  I am obliged to you for wishing to show him respect.’

‘But about Frederick.  Does he never come to England?’

‘Never.’

‘He was not over here about the time of Mrs. Hale’s death?’

’No.  Why, I was here then.  I hadn’t seen Hale for years and years and, if you remember, I came—­No, it was some time after that that I came.  But poor Frederick Hale was not here then.  What made you think he was?’

‘I saw a young man walking with Miss Hale one day,’ replied Mr. Thornton, ‘and I think it was about that time.’

’Oh, that would be this young Lennox, the Captain’s brother.  He’s a lawyer, and they were in pretty constant correspondence with him; and I remember Mr. Hale told me he thought he would come down.  Do you know,’ said Mr. Bell, wheeling round, and shutting one eye, the better to bring the forces of the other to bear with keen scrutiny on Mr. Thornton’s face, ’that I once fancied you had a little tenderness for Margaret?’

No answer.  No change of countenance.

’And so did poor Hale.  Not at first, and not till I had put it into his head.’

’I admired Miss Hale.  Every one must do so.  She is a beautiful creature,’ said Mr. Thornton, driven to bay by Mr. Bell’s pertinacious questioning.

’Is that all!  You can speak of her in that measured way, as simply a “beautiful creature”—­only something to catch the eye.  I did hope you had had nobleness enough in you to make you pay her the homage of the heart.  Though I believe—­in fact I know, she would have rejected you, still to have loved her without return would have lifted you higher than all those, be they who they may, that have never known her to love.  “Beautiful creature” indeed!  Do you speak of her as you would of a horse or a dog?’

Mr. Thornton’s eyes glowed like red embers.