Lord Widmore lingered, alternately commanding and beseeching his sister to return immediately to her home. In these exhortations he was joined by the chaplain. Lady Hester listened to them with patience, but although she said she was sorry to vex her brother, she remained gently determined not to desert her patient. Lord Widmore then declared that since she was of age she might please herself, but that for his part he washed his hands of her.

“Oh, do you?” she said. “I am so glad, for it is what I have longed for you to do for such a time! Pray give my love to Almeria! I must take Gareth his medicine now: excuse me, please!”

Sir Gareth, left alone in the orchard to recover from the exhausting effects of his guests, watched her come towards him, carrying his medicine. “I am glad you haven’t left me to my fate,” he remarked.

“Oh, no! Such nonsense! Here is this evil-smelling dose which Dr. Chantry says is what you should take.”

“Thank you,” he said, receiving the glass from her, and pouring its contents on to the grass.

“Gareth!”

“I have had enough of Dr. Chantry’s potions. Believe me, they taste worse than they smell! Hester, that brother of yours is a sapskull.”

“Oh, yes, I know he is!” she agreed.

“I meant what I said, you know. I don’t think myself bound to offer you the protection of my name—did you ever listen to so much fustian? I’ll swear I never did!—because the suggestion that I have compromised you is as ludicrous as it is nauseating.”

“Of course it is. Don’t let us talk about it! It was so stupid!”

“We will never mention it again, if you will give me your assurance that you have no qualms. Look at me!”

She obeyed, with a tiny smile. “Gareth, it is too foolish! How can you ask me such a question?”

“I couldn’t bear to think, love, that you might consent to marry me for such a reason as that,” he said quietly.

“No,” she answered. “Or I that you might ask me for such a reason as that.”

“You may be very sure I would not. This is not the first time I have asked you to marry me, Hester.”

“Not the first time, but this is different—I think?” she said shyly.

“Quite different. When I asked you at Brancaster I held you in affection and esteem, but I believed I could never be in love again. I was wrong. Will you marry me, my dear and last love?”

She took his face between her hands, and looked into his eyes. A sigh, as though she were rid of a burden, escaped her. “Yes, Gareth,” she said. “Oh, yes, indeed I will!”