"Sit down, man! I thought you were in London?"

"I was. I brought Molly home yesterday, the darlint, and I heard that ye were leaving here this afternoon."

"Ah?"

"And as I'm not going to let ye slip through me fingers again, I thought I would come and make sure of ye. Ye are a deal too slippery, Jack."

"Yet I was coming to see you again whatever happened."

"Of course. Ye are coming now-to stay."

"Oh no!"

O'Hara placed his hat and whip on the table, and stretched his legs with a sigh.

"Sure, 'tis stiff I am! Jim, I've a chaise outside for the baggage, so ye may take it down as soon as may be."

"Leave it where it is, Jim. Miles, 'tis monstrous good of you, but-"

"Keep your buts to yourself, Jack. Me mind's made up."

"And so is mine! I really cannot-"

"Me good boy, ye are coming to stay with us until ye are recovered, if I have to knock ye senseless and then carry ye!"

The lightning smile flashed into Jack's eyes.

"How ferocious! But pray do not be ridiculous over a mere scratch. Recovered, indeed!"

"Ye still look ill. Nay, Jack, take that frown off your face; 'tis of no avail, I am determined."

The door closed softly behind Jim as Carstares shook his head.

"I can't, Miles. You must see 'tis impossible."

"Pooh! No one who comes to Thurze House knows ye or anything about ye. Ye need not see a soul, but come ye must!"

"But, Miles-"

"Jack, don't be a fool! I want ye, and so does Molly. 'Tis no trap, so ye need not look so scared."

"I'm not. Indeed, I am very grateful, but-I cannot. I am going abroad almost at once."

"What?"

"Yes. I mean it."

O'Hara sat up.

"So it has come! I knew it would!"

"What mean you?"

"Ye've found out that ye love Mistress Di."

"Nonsense!"

"And she you."

Jack looked at him.

"Oh, ay! I'm a tactless oaf, I know, and me manners are atrocious to be for trying to break through the barriers ye've put up round yourself. But, I tell ye, Jack, it hurts to be kept at the end of a pole! I don't want to force your confidence, but for God's sake don't be treating me as if I were a stranger!"

"I beg your pardon, Miles. It's confoundedly hard to confide in anyone after six years' solitude." He struggled into his coat as he spoke, and settled his cravat. "If you want to know the whole truth, 'tis because of Diana that I am going."

"Of course. Ye are in love with her?"

"It rather points that way, does it not?"

"Then why the divil don't ye ask her to marry ye?"

"Why don't I ask her? Because I will not offer her a smirched name! Because I love her so much that-" He broke off with a shaky, furious laugh. "How can you ask me such a question? I am a desirable parti, hein? Nom d'un nom! For what do you take me?"

O'Hara looked up, calmly studying the wrathful countenance.

"Chivalrous young fool," he drawled.

Again the short, angry laugh.

"It is so likely that I should ask her to marry me, is it not? 'Mademoiselle, you see in me an improvident fool: I began life by cheating at cards, and since then-' Oh, I shall believe it myself ere long! I seem to have told it to so many people. And I lay myself open to the impertinences of-" he checked himself, thinking of the interview downstairs with Mr. Beauleigh.

"Rubbish, Jack."

"'Tis not rubbish. I have one recommendation-only one."

"Faith, have ye as much? What is it?"

My lord laughed bitterly.

"I dress rather well."

"And fence better, as far as I remember."

"I have reason to. That is but another point to damn me. What woman would marry a fencing-master? Oh, my God! what a mess I have made of my life." He tried to laugh and failed miserably.

"I rather fancy Mistress Di would."

"She will not be asked thus to demean herself," was the proud answer.

"My dear Jack, ye forget ye are the Earl of Wyncham."

"A pretty earl! No thank you, Miles. Richard's son will be Earl-no son of mine."

O'Hara brought his fist down on the table with a crash.

"Damn Richard and his son!"

My lord picked up a jewelled pin and, walking to the glass, proceeded to fasten it in his cravat. The other followed him with smouldering eyes.

"Retired into your shell again?" he growled.

Carstares, with his head slightly on one side, considered the effect of the pin. Then he came back to his friend.

"My dear Miles, the long and short of it is that I am an unreasonable grumbler. I made my bed, and I suppose I must-er-lie on it."

"And will ye be afther telling me who helped ye in the making of it?"

Carstares sat down and started to pull on one boot.

"I foresee we shall be at one another's throats ere long," he prophesied cheerfully. "Did I tell you that I informed Mr. Beauleigh of my-er-profession to-day?"

Miles forgot his anger in surprise.

"Ye never told him ye were a highwayman?" he cried.

"Yes, I did. Why not?"

"Why not? Why not? God help us all! are ye daft, man? Do ye intend to tell every other person ye meet what ye are? Bedad, 'tis mad ye are entirely!"

Carstares sighed.

"I was afraid you would not understand."

"'Twould take a wizard to understand ye! Another chivalrous impulse, I doubt not?"

"Chiv-! No. It is just that I could not let him think me an honourable gentleman. He took it well, on the whole, and is now frigidly polite."

"Polite! I should hope so! The ould scarecrow, after ye'd saved his daughter on him, too! And 'twas he made ye so furious?"

Carstares laughed.

"He and myself. You see-he-lectured me-oh! quite kindly-on the error of my ways, and-it hurt."

"'Tis as well ye are coming to me then, the way things are with ye at present."

My lord opened his mouth to speak, encountered a fiery glance, and shut it again.

"Anything to say?" inquired O'Hara with a threatening gleam in his eye.

"No, sir," replied Jack meekly.

"Ye will come?"

"Please."

O'Hara sprang up joyfully.

"Good lad! Lud! but I was afraid at one time-Put on your other boot while I go and look for that rascal of yours!" He hurried out of the room to find Jim, who, having foreseen the result of the contest, was already stowing the luggage away on the chaise.

Half-an-hour later, his adieux made, Jim and the baggage following, my lord rode out with O'Hara on his way to Thurze House.

For some time there was silence between the two men, with only a perfunctory remark or two on the fineness of the day and the freshness of the mare to break it. Carstares' mind was, as his friend well knew, dwelling on all that he had left behind him. His parting with Diana had been quite ordinary, she at least making no sign that he was anything beyond a chance acquaintance; indeed, it had almost seemed to him that her attitude was slightly aloof, as if she had drawn a little into herself. Her hand when he had kissed it had been lifeless and cold, her smile sweetly remote. He knew that he had held the hand a fraction of a minute longer than was strictly in accordance with the rules on good manners, and he feared that he had clasped it in most unseemly wise, pressing it hard against his lips. He wondered whether she had remarked it. He little guessed that long after he had ridden out of sight, she continued to feel that pressure. If he could have seen her passionately kissing each finger separately for fear her lips might pass over the exact spot his had touched, his heart might have been lighter.

It was true that she had retired into her shell, a little hurt at what she termed his man's blind obstinacy. She had laid her heart bare for him to read; she had offered herself to him as plainly as if she had spoken in terms less general than in the pleasaunce; she had fought desperately for her happiness, thrusting aside all thought of maiden modesty, and when she afterwards had realised what she had done, and tried to imagine what he must think of her, she had blushed dark, and mentally flayed herself for her lack of proper pride and manners. Terrified that he might think her immodest, overwhelmed with sudden shyness, she had been colder in her attitude towards him than she had intended, even in her anxiety not to appear forward. But in spite of her coldness, how intensely had she hoped that he would sense her love and all that she wanted him to know! Incomprehensible the ways of women!

Not endowed with feminine perspicacity or intuition, how could John hope to understand her dual feelings? He only knew that he had hurt her, and that she had drawn back that she might not lay herself open to more. He could not hope to understand her when she did not fully understand herself.

Reflecting on the swiftness with which love had come to them, he believed that with a like swiftness it might fade, at least from Diana's memory. He told himself that he hoped for that end, but he was honest enough to know that it was the last thing in the world he wanted. The mere thought of Diana indifferent to him, or worse, another man's bride, made him bite on his underlip and tighten his hold on the rein.

O'Hara cast many a surreptitious glance at the stern young profile beside him, wondering whether his lordship would last out the tedious ride or no. He knew enough of Carstares' indomitable courage to believe that he would, but he feared that it would prove too great a strain on him in his present weakened condition.

Very wisely he made no attempt to draw Carstares out of his abstraction, but continued to push on in silence, past fields knee-deep in grass, soon to be hay, with sorrel and poppies growing apace, along lanes with hedges high above their heads on either side, over hill and down dale-always in silence.