The first inkling that something was wrong came through the altered demeanour of Alice.  The girl was furious at her father for sacrificing her sister, and furious with her sister for consenting to the sacrifice; her former half-humourous comradeship for Kimberley was changed into chilly disdain.

The suspicions that were thus suggested to him were confirmed by a meeting with Ella outside the castle lodge.  As he approached, he caught sight of her face as she was nodding a smiling good-bye to the old gate-keeper.  She saw Kimberley, and the smile fled from her face with so swift a change, and left for a mere second something so like terror there, that he could scarcely fail to notice it.

He returned home possessed with remorse and shame.  There was no doubt what the end should be.  Ella must be released.

“She never cared about the money,” he said, pacing the room with tear-blotted face.  “She wanted to save her father, and she was ready to break her heart to do it.  But she shall never break her heart through me.  No, no.  What a fool I was to think she could ever be happy with a man like me!”

IV.—­The Renunciation

Jack Clare, with a heart burning with rage at what he deemed Ella’s treachery, had resigned his commission and bought an estate in New Zealand with a sum of money that had been left him.  He became possessed of a desire to see Ella once more.  He wrote to her that he was about to start for New Zealand, and wished to say good-bye to her.  This letter he brought to the castle gate-keeper, and caused it to be taken to Ella.  Then he paced up and down the avenue, impatiently awaiting her.

Destiny ordained that Kimberley should come that way just then on his fateful errand of releasing Ella from her engagement.  As he entered the park his resolve failed him; he wandered unhappily to and fro, until he became aware of a strange gentleman prowling about the avenue in a mighty hurry.  The stranger caught sight of him.

“Pardon me,” said Kimberley nervously, “have you lost your way?”

Jack eyed him from head to foot—­the vulgar glories of his attire, the extraordinary bull-dog pin.  This, he guessed, was Kimberley—­the man to whom Ella had sold herself.  He smiled bitterly, and turned on his heel.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Kimberley ruffled.  “I did myself the honour to address you.”

“You pestilential little cad!” cried Jack, wheeling round and letting out his wrath; “go home!”

“Cad, sir!” answered Kimberley in indignation.

“I call any man a cad, sir,” answered Jack, “who goes about dressed like that.”

Jack walked on and Kimberley stood rooted to the ground.  He was crushed and overwhelmed beneath the sense of his own humiliation.  His fineries had been the one thing on which he had relied to make himself look like a gentleman, and he knew now what they made him look like.