Miss Morville was not easily daunted, and although this suggestion might make her blench she contrived to conceal her dismay, and to argue her ladyship out of a decision which could only lead, she believed, to a painful scene with Sir Thomas.

“Can it be,” demanded the Dowager, suddenly struck by a new idea, “that the Bolderwoods are hopeful of drawing St. Erth in? Upon my word, that would be a high flight indeed! I had not believed Sir Thomas to be capable of such presumption, for the Earl of St. Erth, you know, may look as high as he may choose for a bride, and had there been the least chance of Martin’s succeeding to the title I should not have countenanced the Bolderwood connection for a moment!”

“I do not think, ma’am, that such a thought has entered Sir Thomas’s head. He and Lady Bolderwood consider Marianne to be too young to be thinking of marriage.”

“Depend upon it, my dear, a girl is never too young for her parents to be scheming to make a good match for her,” said the Dowager. “I shall drive over to Whissenhurst, and just drop a hint that an alliance with St. Erth would be most unacceptable to me. I assure you, I should oppose it with my dying breath!”

Miss Morville found no difficulty in believing her; her dependence on the likelihood of this opposition’s being attended to, either by the Earl or by Sir Thomas, was less secure, and she renewed her efforts to dissuade her ladyship from a mission which could only end in her discomfiture. By dint of discovering in herself a great desire to see Marianne again, and stressing a propriety of discovering exactly how the case might be before her ladyship moved in it, she succeeded in persuading her to postpone her visit to Whissenhurst until she had been put in possession of all the facts. These she engaged herself to discover. It did not seem to her to be incumbent on her to suggest to the Dowager that it was an Austell and not a Frant who had succeeded in capturing the heiress’s affections. The shock would be severe, she knew; and she suspected that nothing less than a public announcement of betrothal would suffice to convince her ladyship that any other than a Frant had been accepted by the Bolderwoods.

Since Theo had formed the intention of riding to Whissenhurst on the following morning, to take formal leave of the Bolderwoods, Miss Morville applied to him for escort. He expressed his willingness to go with her, and they rode there together, in happy ignorance that Martin had set out earlier in the same direction.

It was inevitable that Theo should learn from her the reason for her visit, for he was so much in everyone’s confidence that it seemed the most natural thing to tell him what had passed between herself and the Dowager. He was not so much diverted as she had expected him to be, but said, with a forced smile only: “I have lived too long with her ladyship to be surprised by her absurdities. It must have been plain to everyone but herself from the first moment of his clapping eyes on her that Ulverston was much struck by Miss Bolderwood. The fact is that she would not readily be brought to believe that even a Howard or a Percy could be preferred to a Frant.” He was silent for a moment, and then said: “I must suppose that the Bolderwoods, discovering that St. Erth had no serious intentions, are anxious to secure Ulverston for their daughter. It is not to be wondered at.”

He spoke in his usual quiet way, but she thought that she could detect an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone, and said: “You do them less than justice, I think. Their ambition is merely to see Marianne happy.”

“Certainly, but they may be pardoned for believing that the happiness of a future Countess is more likely than that of a mere commoner’s wife. I do not blame them: Miss Bolderwood is worthy of the highest honour.”

He said no more, and she did not pursue the subject, but turned the talk, after a minute’s silence, into less awkward channels.

Martin, meanwhile, had reached Whissenhurst a little earlier. As he rode in at the gate, he obtained a glimpse of Marianne through a division in the yew hedge which screened the drive from the gardens. He guessed that she was busy amongst the spring bulbs which had become one of her chief hobbies, and at once turned his horse towards the stableyard. Leaving the hack in the care of the head-groom, he made his way to the succession-houses which Sir Thomas had had erected at such enormous expense. She was not there, but just as Martin was standing irresolute, wondering if, by ill-luck, she had gone into the house again, he heard the sound of her voice uplifted in a gay ballad. It came from the potting-shed, and he strode up to it, and looked in, to find that she was alone there, engaged in transferring several white hyacinths from their separate earthenware pots to a large Worcestershire bowl. She made a charming picture, with her pale golden curls uncovered, and confined only by a blue riband, a shawl pinned round her shoulders, and a small trowel in one hand. She did not immediately perceive Martin, but went on singing to herself, and carefully pressing down the earth round her bulbs, while he watched her. Some slight movement he made which caught her attention; she looked round, and with a startled exclamation dropped the trowel.

He came into the shed, and picked up the trowel. “You need not jump and squeak!” he said. “It’s only I!”

She took the trowel from him, and laid it down. “Oh, no! I did not mean — That is, I was not expecting — You gave me such a fright! Thank you! See, are they not perfect blooms? I am so proud of them, and mean to place them in Papa’s book-room, for he would only laugh, when I began my gardening, and said my bulbs would come to nothing, because I should forget all about them in a week. He will be regularly set-down!”

“Marianne,” he said, disregarding this speech, “I came because I must and will speak to you!”

“Oh, pray — ! Of course I am always pleased to see you, Martin, but I can’t think what you should want to speak to me about! Don’t look so grave! It is such a lovely day, and when the sun shines I can’t be solemn — you must know I cannot!”

He was not to be diverted; he said: “You have not allowed me to come near you since the night of the ball. I frightened you — I should not have spoken to you then! — but you cannot have doubted my — my sentiments towards you!”

“I hope we have always been good friends,” she said nervously. “Pray do not pain me by speaking of what happened that night! You did not mean it — I am persuaded you did not mean it!”

“Nonsense!” he interrupted, almost angrily. “Of course I meant it! You know that!”

She hung down her head, faltering: “I am afraid I have not always behaved as I should. I didn’t guess — but it was wrong of me, if — if my conduct led you to suppose — that I was in the expectation of receiving a declaration from you.”

He looked at her with a kindling pair of eyes. “It was not so with you a week ago!”

“I was foolish — Mama said I ought not — ”

“It is all since this frippery fellow Ulverston came to Stanyon!” he interrupted. “You have been flirting with him, encouraging his advances — ”

“It is not true! I won’t listen to you! You ought not to say these things, Martin! you know you ought not! Pray do not!”

“You think you may keep me on your string with all the rest, but you are mistaken! I love you, Marianne!”

She made a protesting gesture, and he caught her hand, and held it in a hard grasp. Words tumbled off his tongue, but she was too much distressed to listen to his vows to make her happy, if only she would marry him. Trying unavailing to free her hand, she gasped: “No, no, you must not! Papa would not permit me — indeed, indeed, this is very wrong in you, Martin!”

He now had possession of her other hand as well; looking up at him, she was alarmed to see so stormy an expression in his face. She could as readily have believed that he hated her as that he loved her, and the knowledge that her own lighthearted coquetry had roused so much passion filled her with as much penitence as terror. With tears trembling on the ends of her lashes, she could only utter: “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t understand!”

“You thought differently once! Until St. Erth came home! Is that what it is? First St. Erth, now Ulverston! You would sing another tune if I were St. Erth, wouldn’t you? By God, I think I begin to value you as I should!”

She was provoked into crying out against this accusation, her tears now falling fast. “It is untrue! Let me go! You are hurting me! Let me go! Oh, please, please let me go!”

There seemed to be little likelihood of his attending to her, but at that moment the Viscount, who had come out of the house in search of her, looked into the shed. Two swift strides brought him up to them; his hand gripped Martin’s shoulder; he said authoritatively: “That will do! You forget yourself, Frant!”

Marianne was released immediately. Martin spun round, the intervention, coming from such a source, being all that was needed to fan his passion to a flame. The Viscount was granted barely more than a second to read his purpose in his blazing eyes, but he was a quick-witted young man, and it was enough. He rode the blow aimed for his chin, countered swiftly, and floored Martin. Marianne, backed against the wall of the shed, uttered a little scream of terror, pressing her hands to her blanched cheeks.

The Viscount stepped quickly up to her, saying, with a reassuring smile: “Beg pardon! An infamous thing to alarm you so! Don’t cry! No need at all — word of a gentleman! Will you go into the house? Miss Morville is sitting with your Mama. You’ll find Theo Frant as well — overtook ‘em on the road here! Say nothing about this to your parents! Much better not, you know!”