Brett attributed her agitation to its right cause.  He knew that this healthy, high-minded, and athletic young woman went under no fear of Capella and his ravings.

“What happened when you jumped the hedge?” he said to Hume.

“I handled that scoundrel somewhat roughly,” was the answer.  “It was Nellie here who begged for mercy on his account.”

“Ah, well, the incident ended very pleasantly.  No one saw what happened save the principals, a fortunate thing in itself.  We want to prevent a nine days’ wonder just now.”

“Are you quite sure?” asked Miss Layton, overjoyed at this expression of opinion, and secretly surprised at the interest taken by the barrister in the affair, for Hume had not as yet found time to tell her his friend’s name.

“Quite sure, Miss Layton,” he said, with the smile which made him such a prompt favourite with women.  “I had nothing to do but observe the mise-en-scene.  The stage was quite clear for the chief actors.  And now, may I make a suggestion?  The longer we remain here the more likely are we to attract observation.  Mr. Hume and I are going to call on Mrs. Eastham.  May we expect you in an hour’s time?”

“Can’t you come in with us now?” exclaimed David eagerly.

She laughed excitedly, being yet flurried The sudden appearance of her lover tried her nerves more than the Italian’s passionate avowal.

“No, indeed,” she cried.  “I must go home.  My father will forget all about his lunch otherwise, and I am afraid—­I—­w—­ant to cry!”

Without another word she hurried off towards the rectory.

“My dear fellow,” murmured Brett to the disconsolate Hume, “don’t you understand?  She cannot bear the constraint imposed by my presence at this moment, nor could she meet Mrs. Eastham with any degree of composure.  Now, this afternoon she will return a mere iceberg.  Mrs. Eastham, I am sure, has tact.  I am going to the Hall.  You two will be left alone for hours.”

He turned aside to arrange with the groom concerning the care of the horse, as they would be detained some time in the village.  Then the two men approached Mrs. Eastham’s residence.

That good person, a motherly old lady of over sixty, was not only surprised but delighted by the advent of David Hume.

“My dear boy,” she cried, advancing to meet him with outstretched hands when he entered the morning-room.  “What fortunate wind has blown you here?”

“I can hardly tell you, auntie,” he said—­both Helen and he adopted the pleasing fiction of a relationship that did not exist—­“you must ask Mr. Brett.”

Thus appealed to, the barrister set forth, in a few explicit words, the object of their visit.

“I hope and believe you will succeed,” said Mrs. Eastham impulsively.  “Providence has guided your steps here at this hour.  You cannot imagine how miserable that man Capella makes me.”

“Why?” cried Hume, darting a look of surprise at Brett.