morning. The post brought my lord a letter from Countess Livia,
a most infrequent writer. She had his word to pay her debts; what next
was she for asking? He shrugged, opened the letter, and stared at the
half dozen lines. The signification of them rapped on his consciousness
of another heavy blow before he was perfectly intelligent.

All possible anticipation seemed here outdone: insomuch that he held
palpable evidence of the Fates at work to harass and drive him. She was
married to the young Earl of Cressett!'

Fleetwood printed the lines on his eyeballs. They were the politely
flowing feminine of a statement of the fact, which might have been in one
line. They flourished wantonly: they were deadly blunt. And of all men,
this youngster, who struck at him through her lips with the reproach,
that he had sped the good-looking little beast upon his road to
ruin:--perhaps to Ambrose Mallard's end!

CHAPTER XLII

THE RETARDED COURTSHIP

Carinthia reached Esslemont near noon. She came on foot, and had come
unaccompanied, stick in hand, her dress looped for the roads. Madge
bustled her shorter steps up the park beside her; Fleetwood met her on
the terrace.

'No one can be spared at Croridge,' she said. 'I go back before dark.'
Apology was not thought of; she seemed wound to the pitch.

He bowed; he led into the morning-room. 'The boy is at Croridge?'

'With me. He has his nurse. Madge was at home here more than there.'

'Why do you go back?'

'I am of use to my brother.'

'Forgive me--in what way?'

'He has enemies about him. They are the workmen of Lord Levellier. They
attacked Lekkatts the other night, and my uncle fired at them out of a
window and wounded a man. They have sworn they will be revenged. Mr.
Wythan is with my brother to protect him.'

'Two men, very well; they don't want, if there's danger, a woman's aid in
protecting him?'

She smiled, and her smile was like the hint of the steel blade an inch
out of sheath.

'My brother does not count me a weak woman.'

'Oh no! No one would think that,' Fleetwood said hurriedly and heartily.
'Least of all men, I, Carinthia. But you might be rash.'

'My brother knows me cautious.'

'Chillon?'

'It is my brother's name.'

'You used to call him by his name.

'I love his name.'

'Ah, well! I may be pardoned for wishing to hear what part you play
there.'

'I go the rounds with my brother.'

'Armed?'

'We carry arms.'

'Queer sight to se