It was unfortunate that Mr. Wishart at this moment showed such obvious signs of restlessness that the lady rose to take her leave, otherwise George might have learned the truth.  After the Glenavelin party had gone he wandered out to the lawn, pulling his moustache in vast perplexity and cursing the twisted world.  He had no guess at Lewis’s manner of wooing; to him it had seemed the simple, straightforward love which he thought beyond resistance.  And now, when he learned of this melancholy issue, he was sore at heart for his friend.

He was awakened from his reverie by Lewis himself, who, having ridden straight to the stables, was now sauntering towards the house.  A trim man looks at his best in riding clothes, and Lewis was no exception.  He was flushed with sun and motion, his spirits were high, for all the journey he had been dreaming of a coming meeting with Alice, and the hope which had suddenly increased a thousand-fold.  George marked his mood, and with a regret at his new role caught him by the arm and checked him.

“I say, old man, don’t go in just yet.  I want to tell you something, and I think you had better hear it now.”

Lewis turned obediently, amazed by the gravity of his friend’s face.

“Some people came up from Glenavelin this afternoon and among them a Mrs. Andrews, whom I had a talk to.  She told me that Al—­Miss Wishart is engaged to that fellow Stocks.”

Lewis’s face whitened and he turned away his eyes.  He could not credit it.  Two days ago she had been free; he could swear it; he remembered her eyes at parting.  Then came the thought of his blindness, and in a great horror of self-mistrust he seemed to see throughout it all his criminal folly.  He, poor fool, had been pleasing himself with dreams of a meeting, when all the while the other man had been the real lover.  She had despised him, spared not a thought for him save as a pleasing idler; and he—­that he should ever have ventured for one second to hope!  Curiously enough, for the first time he thought of Stocks with respect; to have won the girl seemed in itself the proof of dignity and worth.

“Thanks very much for telling me.  I am glad I know.  No, I don’t think I’ll go into the house yet.”

* * * * *

The days passed and Alice waited with anxious heart for the coming of the very laggard Lewis.  To-day he will come, she said each morning; and evening found her—­poor heart!—­still expectant.  She told herself a thousand times that it was sheer folly.  He meant nothing, it was a mere fashion of speech; and then her heart would revolt and bid common sense be silent.  He came indeed with some of the Etterick party on a formal call, but this was clearly not the fulfilment of his promise.  So the girl waited and despaired, while the truant at Etterick was breaking his heart for the unattainable.

Mr. Stocks, having won the official consent, conducted his suit with commendable discretion.  Suit is the word for the performance, so full was it of elaborate punctilios.  He never intruded upon her unhappiness.  A studied courtesy, a distant thoughtfulness were his only compliments.  But when he found her gayer, then would he strive with subtle delicacies of manner to make clear the part he desired to play.