They were searching glances, too, as though they read me through and through.

Well, there was no occasion for that.

She ought to know Scone Dacres well enough, I swear.

Cool! And there stood I, with the blood flashing to my head, and throbbing fire underneath the scar of her wound--hers--her own property, for she made it! That was the woman that kicked me, that struck at me, that caused the destruction of my ancestral house, that drove me to exile, and that now drives me back from my love.

But, by Heaven! it'll take more than her to do it; and I'll show her again, as I showed her once before, that Scone Dacres is her master.