the winner. Anne, I just wanted
to say this to you; Val is in an awful rage with me for letting that
matter get to the ears of your father, and I am not pleased with him; so
altogether we are just now treating each other to a dose of sullenness,
and when we do speak it's to growl like two amiable bears; but it shall
make no difference to what I said last week. All shall be made smooth,
even to the satisfaction of your father. You may trust me."

He ran off from her, stepped into the skiff, and was taking the sculls,
when he uttered a sudden exclamation, leaped out again, and began to run
with all speed towards the house.

"What is it? Where are you going?" asked the O'Moore, who was the
appointed steward.

"I have forgotten--" _What_, they did not catch; the word was lost on the
air.

"It is bad luck to turn back," called out Maude. "You won't win."

He was already half-way to the house. A couple of minutes after entering
it he reappeared again, and came flying down the slopes at full speed.
Suddenly his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground. The only one who
saw the accident was Mr. O'Moore; the general attention at that moment
being concentrated upon the river. He hastened back. Hartledon was then
gathering himself up, but slowly.

"No damage," said he; "only a bit of a wrench to the foot. Give me your
arm for a minute, O'Moore. This ground must be slippery from yesterday's
rain."

Mr. O'Moore held out his arm, and Hartledon took it. "The ground is not
slippery, Hart; it's as dry as a bone."

"Then what caused me to slip?"

"The rate you were coming at. Had you not better give up the contest, and
rest?"

"Nonsense! My foot will be all right in the skiff. Let us get on; they'll
all be out of patience."

When it was seen that something was amiss with him, that he leaned rather
heavily on the O'Moore, eager steps pressed round him. Lord Hartledon
laughed, making light of it; he had been so clumsy as to stumble, and had
twisted his ankle a little. It was nothing.

"Stay on shore and give it a rest," cried one, as he stepped once more
into the little boat. "I am sure you are hurt."

"Not I. It will have rest in the boat. Anne," he said, looking up at her
with his pleasant smile, "do you wear my colours still?"

She touched the knot on her bosom, and smiled back to him, her tone full
of earnestness. "I would wear them always."

And the countess-dowager, in her bedecked flounces and crimson feather,
lo