Wingrave was beginning to look bored.

“This is getting,” he remarked, “a little like melodrama.  I have no objection to being abused, even in my own garden, but there are limits to my patience.  Come to the point, if you have one.”

“Willingly,” Aynesworth answered.  “I want you to understand this.  I have never tried to interfere in any of your malicious schemes, although I am ashamed to think I have watched them without protest.  But this one is different.  If you have harmed, if you should ever dare to harm this child, as sure as there is a God above us, I will kill you!”

“What is she to you?” Wingrave asked calmly.

“She—­I love her,” Aynesworth answered.  “I mean her to be my wife.”

“And she?”

“She looks upon me as her greatest friend, her natural protector, and protect her I will—­even against you.”

Wingrave shrugged his shoulders.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that the young lady is very well off as she is.  She has lived in my house, and been taken care of by my servants.  She has been relieved of all the material cares of life, and she has been her own mistress.  I scarcely see how you, my young friend, could do better for her.”

Aynesworth moved a step nearer to him.  The veins on his forehead were swollen.  His voice was hoarse with passion.

“Why have you done this for her?” he demanded, “secretly, too, you a man to whom a good action is a matter for a sneer, who have deliberately proclaimed yourself an evil-doer by choice and destiny?  Why have you constituted yourself her guardian?  Not from kindness for you don’t know what it is; not from good nature for you haven’t any.  Why, then?”

Wingrave shrugged his shoulders.

“I admit,” he remarked coolly, “that it does seem rather a problem; we all do unaccountable things at times, though.”

“For your own sake,” Aynesworth said fiercely, “I trust that this is one of the unaccountable things.  For the rest, you shall have no other chance.  I shall take her to Truro tonight.”

“Are you sure that she will go?”

“I shall tell her the truth.”

“And if she does not believe you?”

“She will!  If you interfere, I shall take her by force.”

“I interfere!” Wingrave remarked.  “You need not be afraid of that.  The affair as it stands is far too interesting.  Call her, and make your appeal.”

“I shall tell her the truth,” Aynesworth declared.

“By all means!  I shall remain and listen to my indictment.  Quite a novel sensation!  Call the young lady, by all means, and don’t spare me.”

Aynesworth moved a few steps up the path.  He called to her softly, and she came through the little iron gates from the rose gardens.  She was very pale, and there was a gleam in her eyes which was like fear.  Aynesworth took her by the hand and led her forward.

“You must be brave, dear,” he whispered.  “I am compelled to say some disagreeable things.  It is for your good.  It is because I care for you so much.”