“Think again, Belle,” he said almost pleadingly; “I daresay that you have never given me credit for much tenderness of heart, and I know that you have as much against me as I have against you.  But I have always loved you, and I love you now, really and truly love you, and I will make you a good husband if you will let me.”

“You are very good,” she said, “but it cannot be.  Get rid of me if you like and marry somebody else.  I am ready to take the penalty of what I have done.”

“Once more, Belle, I beg you to consider.  Do you know what kind of man this is for whom you are giving up your life?  Not only has he deserted you, but do you know how he has got hold of Ida de la Molle?  He has, as I know well, bought her.  I tell you he has bought her as much as though he had gone into the open market and paid down a price for her.  The other day Cossey and Son were going to foreclose upon the Honham estates, which would have ruined the old gentleman.  Well, what did your young man do?  He went to the girl—­who hates him, by the way, and is in love with Colonel Quaritch—­and said to her, ’If you will promise to marry me when I ask you, I will find the thirty thousand pounds and take up the mortgages.’  And on those terms she agreed to marry him.  And now he has got rid of you and he claims her promise.  There is the history.  I wonder that your pride will bear such a thing.  By heaven, I would kill the man.”

She looked up at him curiously.  “Would you?” she said.  “It is not a bad idea.  I dare say it is all true.  He is worthless.  Why does one fall in love with worthless people?  Well, there is an end of it; or a beginning of the end.  As I have sown, so must I reap;” and she got up, and unlocking the door left the room.

“Yes,” he said aloud when she had gone, “there is a beginning of the end.  Upon my word, what between one thing and another, unlucky devil as I am, I had rather stand in my own shoes than in Edward Cossey’s.”

Belle went to her room and sat thinking, or rather brooding, sullenly.  Then she put on her bonnet and cloak and started out, taking the road that ran past Honham Castle.  She had not gone a hundred yards before she found herself face to face with Edward Cossey himself.  He was coming out of a gunsmith’s shop, where he had been ordering some cartridges.

“How do you do, Belle?” he said, colouring and lifting his hat.

“How do you do, Mr. Cossey?” she answered, coming to a stop and looking him straight in the face.

“Where are you going?” he asked, not knowing what to say.

“I am going to walk up to the Castle to call on Miss de la Molle.”

“I don’t think that you will find her.  She is in bed with a headache.”

“Oh!  So you have been up there this morning?”

“Yes, I had to see the Squire about some business.”

“Indeed.”  Then looking him in the eyes again, “Are you engaged to be married to Ida?”