eing with her, was everything! I
hastened forward.

"I could not stay indoors," she said, as she turned by my side,
"although I have an old aunt and some very uninteresting visitors to
entertain. Besides, I have news! My father is coming down to-day, and
I think some of the others. We have just had a telegram."

"I am glad," I answered. "I have just finished my work, and I want some
more."

"You are insatiable," she declared, smiling. "You have written for
three days, days and nights too, I believe, and you look like a ghost.
You ought to take a rest now. You ought to want one, at any rate."

Then the smile faded from her lips, and the anxiety of a sudden thought
possessed her.

"I have not heard a word from Colonel Ray," she said. "It terrifies me
to think that he may have told my father about Blenavon."

"You must insist upon it that he does not," I declared. "Your brother
has left England, has he not?"

"He is at Ostend."

"Then Colonel Ray will keep his word," I assured her. "Besides, you
have written to him, have you not?"

"I have written," she answered. "Still, I am afraid. He will do what
he thinks right, whatever it may be."

"He will respect your wishes," I said.

She smiled a little bitterly.

"He is not an easy person to influence," she murmured. "I doubt whether
my wishes, even my prayers, would weigh with him a particle against his
own judgment. And he is severe--very severe."

I said nothing, and we walked for some time in silence.

"Next week," she said abruptly, "I must go back to London."

It was too sudden! I could not keep back the little exclamation of
despair. She walked for some time with her head turned away from me, as
though something on the dark clear horizon across the waters had
fascinated her, but I caught a glimpse of her face, and I knew that my
secret had escaped me. Whether I was glad or sorry I could not tell.
My thoughts were all in hopeless confusions. When she spoke, there was
a certain reserve in her tone. I knew that things would never again be
exactly the same between us. Yet she was not angry! I hugged that
thought to myself. She was startled and serious, but she was not angry.

"One season is very much like another," she said, "but it is not
possible to absent oneself altogether. Then afterwards there is Cowes
and Homburg, and I always have a plan for at least three weeks in
Scotland. I believe we shall close Rowchester altogether."

"The Duke?" I asked.