Merston came out, full of jovial welcome, to meet them, and in a moment she was glad that she had come.  For she saw that he was genuinely pleased to see her.

“It’s most awfully good of you to come,” he said, as he helped her down.  “You’ve been having a strenuous time at Brennerstadt, I’m told.  I wondered if you were going in for Kelly’s diamond that he was so full of the other day.  How the fellow did talk to be sure!  He’s a walking advertisement.  I should think he must have filled Wilbraham’s coffers for him.  And you didn’t hear who won it?”

It was Burke who answered.  “No, we didn’t stop for that.  We wanted to get away.”

Merston looked at Sylvia.  “And you left young Guy behind?  It was very sporting of you to go after him like that.  Burke told me about it.  I blame myself that he wasn’t on the spot to help.  I hope the journey wasn’t very infernal?”

He spoke with so kindly an interest that but for Burke’s presence she would have felt no embarrassment.  He evidently thought that she had acted with commendable courage.  She answered him without difficulty, though she could not restrain a quick flush at his words.  It was thus then that Burke had defended her honour—­and his own!

“It wasn’t a very nice Journey of course, but I managed it all right.  Mr. Kelly has promised to look after Guy.”

“He’ll do it then,” said Merston reassuringly.  “He’s a grand chap is Kelly.  A bit on the talkative side of course, but a real good sort.  Come in now!  Come and see my wife!  Burke, get down!  You must have a drink anyway before you start back.”

But Burke shook his head.  “Thanks, old chap!  I won’t wait.  I’ve things to do, and it’s getting late.  If you can just get my wife’s baggage out, I’ll be off.”

The last of the sunset light shone upon him as he sat there.  Looking back at him, Sylvia saw him, brown, muscular, firm as a rock, and an odd little thrill went through her.  There was a species of rugged magnificence about him that moved her strangely.  The splendid physique of the man had never shown to fuller advantage.  Perhaps the glory of the sunset intensified the impression, but he seemed to her great.

Merston was dragging forth her belongings.  She went to help him.  Burke kept his seat, the reins taut in his hands.

Merston abruptly gripped him by the knee.  “Look here, old boy!  You must have a drink!  Wait where you are while I fetch it!”

He was gone with the words, and they were left alone.  Sylvia bent over her suit-case, preparing to pick it up.  A tumult of strange emotion had swept over her.  She was quivering all over.  The horses were stamping and chafing at their bits.  He spoke to them with a brief command and they stood still.

Then, very suddenly, he spoke to her.  “Good-bye!” he said.

She lifted her face.  He was smiling faintly, but his smile hurt her inexplicably.  It seemed to veil something that was tragic from her eyes.