This sudden falling into love may appear foolish, especially when it is remembered that I had passed the age of boyhood, and yet I have known several cases similar to my own.  Anyhow, I, who had never loved before, loved now—­loved, perhaps, foolishly; for I knew nothing of the lady I loved, and, of course, had not the slightest hope of her caring for me.

Thus it was with a throbbing heart that I stood there alone upon the lawn, with the knowledge of my new-found love just breaking upon me, and, more than that, I had every reason to fear that she was to be made the dupe of two clever villains.

I turned to follow them, but they were gone I knew not whither, and so I went back to the house determined that, if I could be nothing else, I would be Miss Forrest’s protector.

I had been back in the drawing-room perhaps ten minutes, when Voltaire and Kaffar returned, and apparently entered with great zest into the festivities of the evening.  There is no necessity that I should write of what took place during the remainder of Christmas Eve.  It was held in good old English style, and to most, I am sure, it was very enjoyable.  I got an opportunity of speaking to Miss Forrest, but only for a very short time; at the same time, I noticed that Voltaire took not the slightest notice of her.

When I awoke the following morning and looked out, I saw that the great Yorkshire hills were covered with snow, the air was bitingly cold, and the leaden sky promised us some real Christmas weather.

I was soon dressed and ready to go down, but on looking at my watch I found I had an hour to spare before breakfast.  Arrangements had been made for us to breakfast at ten, and thus be just in time for service at the little village church.

On my way down-stairs I saw Tom Temple, who told me to find my way to the library, where I should be able to pass the time pleasantly.  I entered the room, an old-fashioned dark place lined on every side with books.  I felt in no mood for looking at them just then, however, and so walked to a window and looked out on the snow-draped landscape that stretched away on every hand.  It was a wondrous scene.  The snow had fallen steadily all through the night, and no breath of wind had stirred the feathery flakes.  Thus trees and bushes were laden with snow crystals, while the spotless white was relieved here and there by some shining evergreen leaves which peeped out amidst their snowy mantles.  Ordinarily I should have been impressed by it.  Now, however, I could not help thinking of other matters.  One face was ever before me, and I constantly wondered whether she were in real danger from these strange men, and whether I should have any part in the labour of delivering her from them.  As yet I could do nothing.  I knew nothing wrong of them.  They might be impostors, they might be penniless adventurers, but I could not prove it.  Neither could I tell Miss Forrest what I had heard, while certainly Voltaire had as much right as I had to seek to win her affections.