y of seizing one determined him to go to Mrs.
Fryar-Gunnett at the end of the half-hour--'Just to see what these women
have to say for themselves.'

Some big advance drops of Redworth's thunderstorm drawing gloomily
overhead, warned him to be quick and get his horse into stables.
Dismounted, the sensational man was irresolute, suspecting a female trap.
But curiosity, combined with the instinctive turning of his nose in the
direction of the lady's house, led him thither, to an accompaniment of
celestial growls, which impressed him, judging by that naughty-girl face
of hers and the woman's tongue she had, as a likely prelude to the scene
to come below.

CHAPTER XLII

THE PENULTIMATE: SHOWING A FINAL STRUGGLE FOR LIBERTY AND RUN INTO
HARNESS

The prophet of the storm had forgotten his prediction; which, however,
was of small concern to him, apart from the ducking he received midway
between the valley and the heights of Copsley; whither he was bound, on a
mission so serious that, according to his custom in such instances, he
chose to take counsel of his active legs: an adviseable course when the
brain wants clearing and the heart fortifying. Diana's face was clearly
before him through the deluge; now in ogle features, the dimple running
from her mouth, the dark bright eyes and cut of eyelids, and nostrils
alive under their lightning; now inkier whole radiant smile, or musefully
listening, nursing a thought. Or she was obscured, and he felt the face.
The individuality of it had him by the heart, beyond his powers of
visioning. On his arrival, he stood in the hall, adrip like one of the
trees of the lawn, laughing at Lady Dunstane's anxious exclamations. His
portmanteau had come and he was expected; she hurried out at the first
ringing of the bell, to greet and reproach him for walking in such
weather.

'Diana has left me,' she said, when he reappeared in dry clothing. 'We
are neighbours; she has taken cottage-lodgings at Selshall, about an
hour's walk:--one of her wild dreams of independence. Are you
disappointed?'

'I am,' Redworth confessed.

Emma coloured. 'She requires an immense deal of humouring at present. The
fit will wear off; only we must wait for it. Any menace to her precious
liberty makes her prickly. She is passing the day with the Pettigrews,
who have taken a place near her village for a month. She promised to dine
and sleep here, if she returned in time. What is your news?'

'Nothing; the wor