It was of this man Walter spoke.  “I have a regret, dearest—­nay, more than a regret, a fear—­in leaving you here alone,” he exclaimed in a low, distinct voice, gazing into the blue, fathomless depths of those eyes so very dear to him.

“A fear!  Why?” she asked in some surprise, returning his look.

“Because of that man—­your mother’s friend,” he said.  “Recently I have heard some curious tales concerning him.  I really wonder why Sir Henry still retains him as his guest.”

“Why need we speak of him?” she exclaimed quickly, for the subject was distasteful.

“Because I wish you to be forewarned,” he said in a serious voice.  “That man is no fitting companion for you.  His past is too well known to a certain circle.”

“His past!” she echoed.  “What have you discovered concerning him?”

Her companion did not answer for a few moments.  How could he tell her all that he had heard?  His desire was to warn her, yet he could not relate to her the allegations made by certain persons against Flockart.

“Gabrielle,” he said, “all that I have heard tends to show that his friendship for you and for your father is false; therefore avoid him—­beware of him.”

“I—­I know,” she faltered, lowering her eyes.  “I’ve felt that was the case all along, yet I——­”

“Yet what?” he asked.

“I mean I want you to promise me one thing, Walter,” she said quickly.  “You love me, do you not?”

“Love you, my own darling!  How can you ask such a question?  You surely know that I do!”

“Then, if you really love me, you will make me a promise.”

“Of what?”

“Only one thing—­one little thing,” she said in a low, earnest voice, looking straight into his eyes.  “If—­if that man ever makes an allegation against me, you won’t believe him?”

“An allegation!  Why, darling, what allegation could such a man ever make against you?”

“He is my enemy,” she remarked simply.

“I know that.  But what charge could he bring against you?  Why, if even he dared to utter a single word against you, I—­I’d wring the ruffian’s neck!”

“But if he did, Walter, you wouldn’t believe him, would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Not—­not if the charge he made against me was a terrible one—­a—­a disgraceful one?” she asked in a strained voice after a brief and painful pause.

“Why, dearest!” he cried, “what is the matter?  You are really not yourself to-day.  You seem to be filled with a graver apprehension even than I am.  What does it mean?  Tell me.”

“It means, Walter, that that man is Lady Heyburn’s friend; hence he is my enemy.”

“And what need you fear when you have me as your friend?”

“I do not fear if you will still remain my friend—­always—­in face of any allegation he makes.”

“I love you, darling.  Surely that’s sufficient guarantee of my friendship?”