“More congenial society, I am sure,” said Katherine, laughing, though revolted by his tone.  She felt it would never do to show she was.  “You are quite different from any one I ever met.  Do you know, you give me the idea of a wicked Norman Baron in the Middle Ages.”

De Burgh laughed, as if he rather enjoyed the observation.  “I know,” he said; “a regular melodramatic villain, ’away with him to the lowest dungeon beneath the castle moat’ sort of fellow, who would draw a Jew’s teeth before breakfast and roast a restive burgher after.  I wonder, considering you possess the two strongest attractions for men of this description—­money and (may I say it?) beauty—­that you trust yourself with me.”

“Ah! you concealed your vile opinions successfully; so you see I could not know my danger,” returned Katherine, laughing.  “You are not at all a modern man.”

“I accept the compliment.”

“Which I did not intend for one.  When we get through the gates I will take the reins again.”

“Certainly; but the ponies’ heads will be turned homeward, and I am afraid they will pull.  They have steadied down wonderfully.”  The rest of the drive was spent in careful instruction, and Katherine was surprised to find how quickly the time had gone when they reached the house.

De Burgh interested her in spite of her dislike of the opinions and sentiments he expressed.  There was something picturesque about the man, and she felt that he was attracted to her in a curious and almost alarming manner.  Yet she was conscious of an inclination to play with fire.  It was some time since she felt so light-hearted.  The sight of Errington’s luxurious surroundings seemed to take something from the load upon her conscience, and this sense of partial relief gave brilliancy to her eyes, as the fresh balmy air gave her something of her former rich coloring.

“By Jove!” cried Colonel Ormonde, as Katherine took her place at luncheon, “your drive has agreed with you.  I’ve never seen you look so well.  You must pursue the treatment.  How did she get on, De Burgh?”

“Not so badly.  But Miss Liddell is more timid than I expected.  She’ll get accustomed to the look of the cattle in a little while.  Courage is largely made up of a habit.  I’ll take some of that cold lamb, Ormonde.”  And De Burgh spoke no more till he had finished his luncheon.

“Do you know, Miss Liddell, that my father was an old friend of your uncle’s?” said Errington that evening, as he placed himself beside her on a retired sofa, while Miss Brereton was executing some gymnastics on the piano.  “I have just been taking to Ormonde about him.  I remember having been sent to call upon him—­long ago, when I was at college, I think.  He lived in some wild north-land; I remember it was a great way off.  Then my father went for a trip to Calcutta, and I fancy lost sight of his old chum.”

Katherine grew red and white as he spoke; she could only murmur, “Yes, I was told they had been friends.”