Her beauty, of which he had heard much, now that he was face to face with it, was certainly striking enough—­all the more because of its immaturity, the subtlety and uncertainty of its promise. Immaturity—­uncertainty—­these words returned upon him as he observed her manner with its occasional awkwardness, the awkwardness which goes with power not yet fully explored or mastered by its possessor.  How Aldous hung upon her, following every movement, anticipating every want!  After a while Hallin found himself half-inclined to Mr. Boyce’s view, that men of Raeburn’s type are never seen to advantage in this stage—­this queer topsy-turvy stage—­of first passion.  He felt a certain impatience, a certain jealousy for his friend’s dignity.  It seemed to him too, every now and then, that she—­the girl—­was teased by all this absorption, this deference.  He was conscious of watching for something in her that did not appear; and a first prescience of things anxious or untoward stirred in his quick sense.

“You may all say what you like,” said Marcella, suddenly, putting down her cup, and letting her hand drop for emphasis on her knee; “but you will never persuade me that game-preserving doesn’t make life in the country much more difficult, and the difference between classes much wider and bitterer, than they need be.”

The remark cut across some rattling talk of Frank Leven’s, who was in the first flush of the sportsman’s ardour, and, though by no means without parts, could at the present moment apply his mind to little else than killing of one kind or another, unless it were to the chances of keeping his odious cousin out of Parliament.

Leven stared.  Miss Boyce’s speech seemed to him to have no sort of a propos.  Aldous looked down upon her as he stood beside her, smiling.

“I wish you didn’t trouble yourself so much about it,” he said.

“How can I help it?” she answered quickly; and then flushed, like one who has drawn attention indiscreetly to their own personal situation.

“Trouble herself!” echoed young Leven.  “Now, look here Miss Boyce, will you come for a walk with me?  I’ll convince you, as I convinced those fellows over there.  I know I could, and you won’t give me the chance; it’s too bad.”

“Oh, you!” she said, with a little shrug; “what do you know about it?  One might as well consult a gambler about gambling when he is in the middle of his first rush of luck.  I have ten times more right to an opinion than you have.  I can keep my head cool, and notice a hundred things that you would never see.  I come fresh into your country life, and the first thing that strikes me is that the whole machinery of law and order seems to exist for nothing in the world but to protect your pheasants!  There are policemen—­to catch poachers; there are magistrates—­to try them.  To judge from the newspapers, at least, they have nothing else to do.  And if you follow your sporting instincts, you are a very fine fellow, and everybody admires you.  But if a shoemaker’s son in Mellor follows his, he is a villain and a thief, and the policeman and the magistrate make for him at once.”