There was silence.  His right hand stole towards her left that was lying limply over her knee.  Cicely’s eyes looking down were occupied with his disabled arm, which, although much improved, was still glad to slip into its sling whenever it was not actively wanted.

But just as he was capturing her, Cicely sprang up.

‘I must go and see about Sir John Raine.’

‘Cicely—­I don’t care a brass farthing about Sir John Raine!’

‘But having once brought him in, I recommend you to stick to him,’ said Cicely, with teasing eyes.  ’And don’t go advising young women.  It’s not good for the military. I’m going to take this business in hand.’

And she made for departure, but Marsworth got to the door first, and put his back against it.

‘Find me the Turner, Cicely.’

‘A man who asks for a thing on false pretences shouldn’t have it.’

A silence.  Then a meek voice said—­

’Captain Marsworth, my brother, Sir William Farrell, will be requiring my services at tea!’

Marsworth moved aside and she forward.  But as she neared him, he caught her passionately in his arms and kissed her.  She released herself, crimson.

‘Do I like being kissed?’ she said in a low voice—­’do I?  Anyway don’t do it again!—­and if you dare to say a word yet—­to anyone—­’

Her eyes threatened; but he saw in them revelations her pride could not check, and would have disobeyed her at once; but she was too quick for him.  In a second she had opened the door and was gone.

During the rest of the afternoon, her brother and Nelly watched Cicely’s proceedings with stupefaction; only equalled by the bewilderment of Miss Daisy Stewart.  For that young lady was promoted to the good graces of Sir William’s formidable sister with a rapidity and completeness which only natural good manners and good sense could have enabled her to deal with; considering the icy exclusion to which she had been so long condemned.  But as she possessed both, she took it very simply; always with the same serene light in her grey eyes.

Marsworth said to himself presently that young Fellows’ chances were good.  But in truth he hardly remembered anything about them, except that by the help of them he had kissed Cicely!  And he had yet to find out what that remarkable fact was to mean, either to himself or to her.  She refused to let him take her back to the farm, and she only gave him a finger in farewell.  Nor did she say a word of what had happened, even to Nelly.

Nelly spent again a very wakeful night.  Farrell had walked home with them, and she understood from him that, although he was going over early to Carton the following morning, he would be at the cottage again before many days were over.  It seemed to her that in telling her so he had looked at her with eyes that seemed to implore her to trust him.  And she, on hearing it, had been merely dumb and irresponsive, not forbidding or repellent, as she ought to have been.  The courage to wound him to the quick—­to leave him bereft, to go out into the desert herself, seemed to be more and more oozing away from her.