truth were told, both were standing much deeper than before in the
midstream of passion.

But neither spoke another word--till the gate was reached.

Falloden opened it, and backed his horse out of Connie's way. In the
road outside, at a little distance, the groom was waiting.

"Good-bye," said Falloden, with ceremonious politeness. "I wish I had
not spoilt your ride. Please do not give up riding in the woods, because
you might be burdened with my company. I shall never intrude upon you.
All the woodmen and keepers have been informed that you have full
permission. The family will be all away till the autumn. But the woodmen
will look after you, and give you no trouble."

"Thank you!" said Constance, lightly, staying the mare for a moment.
"But surely some of the rides will be wanted directly for the pheasants?
Anyway I think I shall try the other side of Oxford. They say Bagley is
delightful. Good-bye!"

She passed through, made a signal to Joseph, and was soon trotting fast
towards Oxford.

* * * * *

On that return ride, Constance could not conceal from herself that she
was unhappy. Her lips quivered, her eyes had much ado to keep back the
onset of tears--now that there was no Falloden to see her, or provoke
her. How brightly their ride had begun!--how miserably it had ended! She
thought of that first exhilaration; the early sun upon the wood; the
dewy scents of moss and tree; Falloden's face of greeting--"How can you
look so fresh! You can't have slept more than four hours--and here you
are! Wonderful! 'Did ever Dian so become a grove'--"

An ominous quotation, if she had only remembered at the time where it
came from! For really his ways were those of a modern Petruchio--ways
that no girl of any decent spirit could endure.

Yet how frank and charming had been his talk as they rode into the
wood!--talk of his immediate plans, which he seemed to lay at her feet,
asking for her sympathy and counsel; of his father and his two sisters;
of the Hoopers even. About them, his new tone was no doubt a trifle
patronising, but still, quite tolerable. Ewen Hooper, he vowed, was "a
magnificent scholar," and it was too bad that Oxford had found nothing
better for him than "a scrubby readership." But "some day, of course,
he'll have the regius professorship." Nora was "a plucky little
thing--though she hates me!" And he, Falloden, was not so sure after all
that Miss Alice would not land her