She talked him into a pleasant humour, and it took a practical form unknown to Estelle, for before they had reached home again, there passed through Raymond’s mind a wave of contrition.  The contrast between Estelle’s steadfast and unconscious altruism and his own irresolution and selfishness struck into him.  She made him think more kindly of Sabina, and when he considered the events of that day from Sabina’s standpoint, he felt ashamed of himself.  For it was not she who had done anything unreasonable.  The blame was his.  He had practically lied to her the day before, and to-day he had been harsh and cruel.  She had a right—­the best possible right—­to come and see him; she had good reason to be angry on learning that he had not kept his word.

He determined to see Sabina as quickly as possible, and about seven o’clock in the evening after the return from the walk, he went down to ‘The Magnolias’ and rang the bell.  Mrs. Dinnett came to the door, and said something that hardened the young man’s heart again very rapidly.

Sabina’s mother was unfriendly.  Since her daughter returned, she had learned all there was to know, and for the moment felt very antagonistic.  She had already announced the betrothal to certain of her friends, and the facts that day had discovered made her both anxious and angry.  She was a woman of intermittent courage, but her paroxysms of pluck soon passed and between them she was craven and easily cast down.  For the moment, however, she felt no fear and echoed the mood in which Sabina had returned from Bridport an hour earlier.

“Sabina can’t be seen to-night,” she said.  “You wouldn’t have anything to do with her this afternoon, Mr. Ironsyde, and treated her like a stranger; and now she won’t see you.”

“Why not, Missis Dinnett?”

“She’s got her pride, and you’ve wounded it—­and worse.  And I may tell you we’re not the people to be treated like this.  It’s a very ill-convenient business altogether, and if you’re a gentleman and a man of honour—­”

He cut her short.

“Is she going to see me, or isn’t she?”

“She is not.  She’s very much distressed, and every reason to be, God knows; and she’s not going to see you to-night.”

Raymond took it quietly and his restraint instantly alarmed Mrs. Dinnett.

“It’s not my fault, Mr. Ironsyde.  But seeing how things are between you, she was cruel put about this afternoon, and she’s got to think of herself if you can do things like that at such a moment.”

“She must try and keep her nerve better.  There was no reason why I should break promises.  She ought to have waited for me to come to her.”

Mary Dinnett flamed again.

“You can say that!  And didn’t she wait all the morning to see if you’d come to her—­and me?  And as to promises—­it don’t trouble you to break promises, else you’d have seen your family yesterday, as you told Sabina you were going to do.”