the Mazetta Castle was not due till
to-day."

"She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. He
has some horses running, you know."

"I suppose," she remarked, "that he is more of a celebrity than ever
now!"

"Much more," he answered. "If he chooses he will be the lion of the
season! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?"

She shook her head impatiently.

"Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!"

"I hate him," Davenant said sulkily.

"And so," she answered softly, "do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?"

"In good company too," the young man laughed bitterly.

A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully,
were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst them was
Royalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But when he saw
the girl in the white foulard smile at him from the paling he forgot
etiquette and everything else. He walked straight across to her with
that keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred had described so well in
his letter.

"I am very fortunate," he said, taking the delicately gloved hand into
his fingers, "to find you so soon. I have only been in England a few
hours."

She answered him slowly, subjecting him the while to a somewhat close
examination. His face was more sunburnt than ever she had seen a man's,
but there was a wonderful force and strength in his features, which
seemed to have become refined instead of coarsened by the privations
through which he had passed. His hand, as she had felt, was as hard as
iron, and it was not without reluctance that she felt compelled to
take note of his correct attire and easy bearing. After all he must be
possessed of a wonderful measure of adaptability.

"You have become famous," she said. "Do you know that you are going to
be made a lion?"

"I suppose the papers have been talking a lot of rot," he answered
bluntly. "I've had a fairly rough time, and I'm glad to tell you this,
Miss Wendermott--I don't believe I'd ever have succeeded but for your
nephew Fred. He's the pluckiest boy I ever knew."

"I am very pleased to hear it," she answered. "He's a dear boy!"

"He's a brick," Trent answered. "We've been in some queer scrapes
together--I've lots of messages for you! By the by, are you alone?"

"For the moment," she answered; "Mr. Davenant left me as you came up.
I'm with my cousin, Lady Tresham. She's on the lawn somewhere."

He looked down the paddoc