read a question in the interjection, and he answered it. "Had you
known any real care, any true concern for me, you had not given cause
for this affair," he chid her peevishly.

"What are you saying?" she cried, and it occurred to her at last that
Richard was afraid. He was a coward! She felt as she would faint.

"I am saying," said he, hunching his shoulders, and shivering as he
spoke, yet, his glance unable to meet hers, "that it is your fault that
I am like to get my throat cut before sunset."

"My fault?" she murmured. The slope of lawn seemed to wave and swim
about her. "My fault?"

"The fault of your wanton ways," he accused her harshly. "You have so
played fast and loose with this fellow Wilding that he makes free of
your name in my very presence, and puts upon me the need to get myself
killed by him to save the family honour."

He would have said more in this strain, but something in her glance gave
him pause. There fell a silence. From the distance came the melodious
pealing of church bells. High overhead a lark was pouring out its song;
in the lane at the orchard end rang the beat of trotting hoofs. It
was Diana who spoke presently. Just indignation stirred her, and, when
stirred, she knew no pity, set no limits to her speech.

"I think, indeed," said she, her voice crisp and merciless, "that the
family honour will best be saved if Mr. Wilding kills you. It is in
danger while you live. You are a coward, Richard."

"Diana!" he thundered--he could be mighty brave with women--whilst Ruth
clutched her arm to restrain her.

But she continued, undeterred: "You are a coward--a pitiful coward," she
told him. "Consult your mirror. It will tell you what a palsied thing
you are. That you should dare so speak to Ruth..."

"Don't!" Ruth begged her, turning.

"Aye," growled Richard, "she had best be silent."

Diana rose, to battle, her cheeks crimson. "It asks a braver man than
you to compel my obedience," she told him. "La!" she fumed, "I'll swear
that had Mr. Wilding overheard what you have said to your sister, you
would have little to fear from his sword. A cane would be the weapon
he'd use on you."

Richard's pale eyes flamed malevolently; a violent rage possessed him
and flooded out his fear, for nothing can so goad a man as an offensive
truth. Ruth approached him again; again she took him by the arm, seeking
to soothe his over-troubled spirit; but again he shook her off. And then
to save the situation