" he said. "Whatever it was, it's gone. Sit down,
won't you?"

Hope dropped rather limply into a chair. The security of Baring's
protecting presence was infinitely comforting, but her fright and
subsequent exertion had made her feel very weak. Baring went to the
window and stood there for some seconds, with his back to her. She noted
his height and breadth of shoulder with a faint sense of pleasure. She
had always admired this man. Secretly--his habitual kindness to her
notwithstanding--she was also a little afraid of him, but her fear did
not trouble her just then.

He turned quietly at length and seated himself near the window.

"How long does your uncle expect to be away?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I never know; he may come back to-morrow, or perhaps not for days."

Baring's black brows drew together.

"Where is he?" he asked. She shook her head again.

He said nothing; but his silence was so condemnatory that she felt
herself called upon to defend the absent one.

"You see, he came here in the first place because I begged so very hard.
And he has to travel because of his book. I always knew that, so I
really can't complain. Besides, I'm not generally lonely, and hardly
ever nervous. And I have Ronnie."

"Ronnie!" said Baring; and for the first time he looked contemptuous.

Hope sighed.

"It's quite my own fault," she said humbly. "If I hadn't--"

"Pardon me! It is not your fault," he interrupted grimly. "It is
iniquitous that a girl like you should be left in such a place as this
entirely without protection. Have you a revolver?"

Hope looked startled.

"Oh, no!" she said. "If I had, I should never dare to use it, even if I
knew how."

Baring looked at her, still frowning.

"I think you are braver than that," he said.

Hope flushed vividly, and rose.

"No," she said, a note of defiance in her voice. "I'm a miserable
coward, Major Baring. But no one knows it but you and, perhaps, one
other. So I hope you won't give me away."

Baring did not smile.

"Who else knows it?" he asked.

Hope met his eyes steadily. She was evidently resolved to be weak no
longer.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" she said.

He did not answer her; and again she had a feeling that he was offended.

There was a considerable pause before he spoke again. He seemed to be
revolving something in his mind. Then at last, abruptly, he began to
talk upon ordinary topics, and at once she felt more at her ease with
hi