remarkable and singularly attractive.  Joan inspired a considerable amount of awe in the breasts of those youthful admirers who had flitted round her sometimes during the days of her wanderings; but she had never given any of them room to hope to be more to her than the passing acquaintance of an hour.  She had received proffers of life-long devotion with a curious gentle courtesy almost like indifference, and had smiled upon none of those who had paid her court.

Her father had let her do as she would.  No suitor wealthy enough to excite his cupidity had appeared at Joan’s feet.  He intended to make a wealthy match for her before she grew much older; but the right person had not yet appeared, and time slipped by almost unheeded.

Now she found herself once again face to face with Peter Sanghurst, and realized that he was renewing, or about to renew, that hateful suit which she trusted had passed from his mind altogether.  The face she turned towards him, with the glowing autumn sunshine full upon it, was scarcely such as could be called encouraging to an ardent lover.  But Peter Sanghurst only smiled as she stood there in her proud young beauty, the russet autumn tints framing her noble figure in vivid colours.

“I have taken you by surprise, sweet lady,” he said; “it is long since we met.”

“Long indeed, Master Peter —­ or should I say Sir Peter?  It hath been told to me that you have been in the great world; but whether or not your gallantry has won you your spurs I know not.”

Was there something of covert scorn in the tones of her cold voice?  Sanghurst could not tell, but every smallest stab inflicted upon his vanity or pride by this beautiful creature was set down in the account he meant to settle with her when once she was in his power.  His feelings towards her were strangely mixed.  He loved her passionately in a fierce, wild fashion, coveting the possession of that beauty which maddened whilst it charmed him.  She enchained and enthralled him, yet she stung him to the quick by her calm contempt and resolute avoidance of him.  He was determined she should be his, come what might; but when once he had won the mastery over her, he would make her suffer for every pang of wounded pride or jealousy she had inflicted upon him.  The cruelty of the man’s nature showed itself even in his love, and he hated even whilst he loved her; for he knew that she was infinitely his superior, and that she had read the vileness of his nature, and had learned to shrink from him, as purity always shrinks from contact with what is foul and false.

Even her question stung his vanity, and there was a savage gleam in his eye as he answered: