CHAPTER XIII.
LYING IN BRITHLOW WOOD.
A thunderbolt falling at your feet from a cloudless summer sky must be rather astounding in its unexpectedness, but no thunderbolt ever created half the consternation Sir Everard's fierce announcement did.
"Going away!" his mother murmured--"going to Constantinople.

My dear Everard, you don't mean it ?" "Don't I ?" he said, fiercely.

"Don't I look as if I meant it ?" "But what has happened?
Oh, Everard, what does all this mean ?" "It means, mother, that I am a mad, desperate and reckless man; that I don't care whether I ever return to England again or not." Lady Kingsland's own imperious spirit began to rise.

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed.
"It means you are a headstrong, selfish, cruel boy! You don't care an iota what pain you inflict on others, if you are thwarted ever so slightly yourself.

I have indulged you from your childhood.