Dacier’s eyebrows knotted a trifle over her eagerness to dismiss him:  he was not used to it, but rather to be courted by women, and to condescend.

’I shall not long, I’m afraid, have the pleasure of walking beside you and hearing you.  I had letters at Lugano.  My uncle is unwell, I hear.’

‘Lord Dannisburgh?’

The name sprang from her lips unhesitatingly.

His nodded affirmative altered her face and her voice.

‘It is not a grave illness?’

‘They rather fear it.’

‘You had the news at Lugano?’

He answered the implied reproach:  ‘I can be of no, service.’

‘But surely!’

’It’s even doubtful that he would be bothered to receive me.  We hold no views in common—­excepting one.’

‘Could I?’ she exclaimed.  ’O that I might!  If he is really ill!  But if it is actually serious he would perhaps have a wish . . .  I can nurse.  I know I have the power to cheer him.  You ought indeed to be in England.’

Dacier said he had thought it better to wait for later reports.  ’I shall drive to Lugano this afternoon, and act on the information I get there.  Probably it ends my holiday.’

’Will you do me the favour to write me word?—­and especially tell me if you think he would like to have me near him,’ said Diana.  ’And let him know that if he wants nursing or cheerful companionship, I am at any moment ready to come.’

The flattery of a beautiful young woman to wait on him would be very agreeable to Lord Dannisburgh, Dacier conceived.  Her offer to go was possibly purely charitable.  But the prudence of her occupation of the post obscured whatever appeared admirable in her devotedness.  Her choice of a man like Lord Dannisburgh for the friend to whom she could sacrifice her good name less falteringly than she gathered those field-flowers was inexplicable; and she herself a darker riddle at each step of his reading.

He promised curtly to write.  ‘I will do my best to hit a flying address.’

’Your Club enables me to hit a permanent one that will establish the communication,’ said Diana.  ’We shall not sleep another night at Rovio.  Lady Esquart is the lightest of sleepers, and if you had a restless time, she and her husband must have been in purgatory.  Besides, permit me to say, you should be with your party.  The times are troublous—­not for holidays!  Your holiday has had a haunted look, creditably to your conscience as a politician.  These Corn Law agitations!’

‘Ah, but no politics here!’ said Dacier.

’Politics everywhere!—­in the Courts of Faery!  They are not discord to me.’

‘But not the last day—­the last hour!’ he pleaded.

’Well! only do not forget your assurance to me that you would give some thoughts to Ireland—­and the cause of women.  Has it slipped from your memory?’

‘If I see the chance of serving you, you may trust to me.’