de no offer to address him as he stood before her now, hat under
arm, leaning easily upon his amber cane.

"Oh, heart of stone!" said he at last. "Am I not yet forgiven?"

She misread his meaning--perhaps already the suspicion she now voiced
had been in her mind. She looked up at him sharply. "Was it--was it you
who fetched the Lady Mary to me?" she inquired.

"Lo!" said he. "You have a voice! Now Heaven be praised! I was fearing
it was lost for me--that you had made some awful vow never again to
rejoice my ears with the music of it."

"You have not answered my question," she reminded him.

"Nor you mine," said he. "I asked you am I not yet forgiven."

"Forgiven what?"

"For being born an impudent, fleering coxcomb--twas that you called me,
I think."

She flushed deeply. "If you would win forgiveness, you should not remind
me of the offence," she answered low.

"Nay," he rejoined, "that is to confound forgiveness with forgetfulness.
I want you to forgive and yet to remember."

"That were to condone."

"What else? 'Tis nothing less will satisfy me."

"You expect too much," she answered, with a touch that was almost of
sternness.

He shrugged and smiled whimsically. "It is my way," he said
apologetically. "Nature has made me expectant, and life, whilst showing
me the folly of it, has not yet cured me."

She looked at him, and repeated her earlier question. "Was it at your
bidding that Lady Mary came to speak with me?"

"Fie!" he cried. "What insinuations do you make against her?"

"Insinuations?"

"What else? That she should do things at my bidding!"

She smiled understanding. "You have a talent, sir, for crooked answers."

"'Tis to conceal the rectitude of my behavior."

"It fails of its object, then," said she, "for it deludes no one."
She paused and laughed at his look of assumed blankness. "I am deeply
beholden to you," she whispered quickly, breathing at once gratitude and
confusion.

"Though I don't descry the cause," said he, "'twill be something to
comfort me."

More he might have added then, for the mad mood was upon him, awakened
by those soft brown eyes of hers. But in that moment the others of that
little party crowded upon them to take their leave of Mistress Winthrop.

Mr. Caryll felt satisfied that enough had been done to curb the slander
concerning Hortensia. But he was not long in learning how profound was
his mistake. On every side he continued to hear her discussed, and in