‘Because I’ve just seen that I ought never to have come, I suppose,’ Evan replied, controlling the wretched heaving of his chest.

‘But Louisa won’t go, Van.’

’Understand, my dear Andrew, that I know it to be quite imperative.  Be ready yourself with Caroline.  Louisa will then make her choice.  Pray help me in this.  We must not stay a minute more than is necessary in this house.’

‘It’s an awful duty,’ breathed Andrew, after a pause.  ’I see nothing but hot water at home.  Why—­but it’s no use asking questions.  My love to your mother.  I say, Van,—­now isn’t Lady Jocelyn a trump?’

‘God bless her!’ said Evan.  And the moisture in Andrew’s eyes affected his own.

’She’s the staunchest piece of woman-goods I ever—­I know a hundred cases of her!’

’I know one, and that ‘s enough,’ said Evan.

Not a sign of Rose!  Can Love die without its dear farewell on which it feeds, away from the light, dying by bits?  In Evan’s heart Love seemed to die, and all the pangs of a death were there as he trod along the gravel and stepped beneath the gates of Beckley Court.

Meantime the gallant Countess was not in any way disposed to retreat on account of Evan’s defection.  The behaviour toward him at the breakfast-table proved to her that he had absolutely committed his egregious folly, and as no General can have concert with a fool, she cut him off from her affections resolutely.  Her manifest disdain at his last speech, said as much to everybody present.  Besides, the lady was in her element here, and compulsion is required to make us relinquish our element.  Lady Jocelyn certainly had not expressly begged of her to remain:  the Countess told Melville so, who said that if she required such an invitation she should have it, but that a guest to whom they were so much indebted, was bound to spare them these formalities.

‘What am I to do?’

The Countess turned piteously to the diplomatist’s wife.

She answered, retiringly:  ‘Indeed I cannot say.’

Upon this, the Countess accepted Melville’s arm, and had some thoughts of punishing the woman.

They were seen parading the lawn.  Mr. George Uplift chuckled singularly.

‘Just the old style,’ he remarked, but corrected the inadvertence with a ‘hem!’ committing himself more shamefully the instant after.  ’I’ll wager she has the old Dip. down on his knee before she cuts.’

‘Bet can’t be taken,’ observed Sir John Loring.  ‘It requires a spy.’

Harry, however, had heard the remark, and because he wished to speak to her, let us hope, and reproach her for certain things when she chose to be disengaged, he likewise sallied out, being forlorn as a youth whose sweet vanity is much hurt.

The Duke had paired off with Mrs. Strike.  The lawn was fair in sunlight where they walked.  The air was rich with harvest smells, and the scent of autumnal roses.  Caroline was by nature luxurious and soft.  The thought of that drilled figure to which she was returning in bondage, may have thrown into bright relief the polished and gracious nobleman who walked by her side, shadowing forth the chances of a splendid freedom.  Two lovely tears fell from her eyes.  The Duke watched them quietly.