demanded.

"Mr. Fox, himself, for one. He thought it so good,--or so bad,--that he
took me aside last night at Lady Tankerville's, asked me why I had let
you out of Castle Yard, and told me I must manage to curb your tongue.
I replied that I had about as much influence with you as I have with Dr.
Franklin."

I laughed.

"I saw Fox lead you off," I said.

"Oh, you did, did you!" she retorted. "But you never once came near me
yourself, save when I chanced to meet you in the hall, tho' I was there a
full three hours."

"How could I!" I exclaimed. "You were surrounded by prime ministers and
ambassadors, and Heaven knows how many other great people."

"When you wish to do anything, Richard, you usually find a way."

"Nay," I answered, despairing, "I can never explain anything to you,
Dolly. Your tongue is too quick for mine."

"Why didn't you go home with your captain?" she asked mockingly.

"Do you know why I stayed?"

"I suppose because you want to be a gay spark and taste of the pleasures
of London. That is, what you men are pleased to call pleasures. I can
think of no other season."

"There is another," I said desperately.

"Ah," said Dolly. And in her old aggravating way she got up and stood in
the window, looking out over the park. I rose and stood beside her, my
very temples throbbing.

"We have no such springs at home," she said. "But oh, I wish I were at
Wilmot House to-day!"

"There is another reason," I repeated. My voice sounded far away, like
that of another. I saw the colour come into her cheeks again, slowly.
The southwest wind, with a whiff of the channel salt in it, blew the
curtains at our backs.

"You have a conscience, Richard," she said gently, without turning. "So
few of us have."

I was surprised. Nor did I know what to make of that there were so many
meanings.

"You are wild," she continued, "and impulsive, as they say your father
was. But he was a man I should have honoured. He stood firm beside his
friends. He made his enemies fear him. All strong men must have
enemies, I suppose. They must make them."

I looked at her, troubled, puzzled, but burning at her praise of Captain
Jack.

"Dolly," I cried, "you are not well. Why won't you come back to
Maryland?"

She did not reply to that. Then she faced me suddenly.

"Richard, I know now why you insisted upon going back. It was because
you would not desert your sea-captain. Comyn and Mr. Fox have told me,
and they admire you