And he struck Anthony several heavy blows with an oak cudgel he held in his hand.

Forced to retaliate in self-defence, Anthony closed with his gigantic opponent, and several blows had been given and received on either side, when the combatants were separated by a third person—­this was no other than Captain Whitmore who, with his daughter, accidentally rode up to the spot.

“Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone engaged in such a disgraceful fray!  Can I believe the evidence of my senses?”

“Not if you would judge truly, Captain Whitmore,” said Anthony, striving to keep a calm exterior, but still trembling with passion, while the most bitter and humiliating feelings agitated his breast.

“I was striving to revenge the wrongs done to an injured sister by a villain!” cried the enraged Mathews.  “I appeal to you sir, as a man, a father, a brave British officer, if you would suffer a sister or a daughter to be trampled upon and betrayed without resenting the injury?”

“I am incapable of the crime laid to my charge by this man,” said Anthony, indignantly, when he saw the father and daughter exchange glances of astonishment and contempt.  “Miss Whitmore, I entreat you not to give the least credit to this ruffian’s accusation.  He has uttered a base falsehood!”

The only answer the tortured lover received was an indignant flash from the hitherto dove-like eyes of Juliet Whitmore.  She reined back her horse, and turned her face proudly away from the imploring gaze of the distracted Anthony.

“I must—­I will be heard!” he cried, seizing the reins of her horse, and forcibly detaining her.  “I see, Miss Whitmore, that this foul calumny is believed by you and your father.  I demand an explanation before you leave this spot.  William Mathews has accused me of being a villain—­the seducer of his sister:  and I here tell him to his face that his accusation is a hideous slander!  Call hither your sister, Mr. Mathews—­let her determine the question:  she knows that I am innocent.  I shrink not from the most rigid investigation of my conduct.”

“Do as he bids you, Mr. Mathews,” said the Captain.  “Call here your sister.  I consider myself bound in justice to listen to Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone’s proposal.”

Juliet’s eyes involuntarily turned towards the garden gate; but her pale cheek flushed to crimson as it unclosed, and the unfortunate umpire, half led, half dragged forward by her brother, presented herself before them.  Even Anthony’s presence of mind well nigh forsook him, as, with a start, he recognised his cousin’s unfortunate victim.

A few weeks had wrought a fearful change in the blooming and healthful appearance of the poor girl.  She looked like a young sapling tree, on whose verdant head had fallen an incurable blight; an utter disregard of the opinions of others, or what the world would say of her, was manifested in her squalid appearance and total neglect of personal neatness.  The pride of the girl’s heart had vanished with her self-respect, and she stood before the strange group with a bold front and unbending brow; yet her eye wandered vacantly from face to face, as if perfectly unconscious of the real meaning of the scene.