Gower came on him sauntering about the grounds.

‘You’re not very successful down here,’ Fleetwood said, without greeting.

‘The countess likes the air of this country,’ said Gower, evasively, impertinently, and pointlessly; offensively to the despot employing him to be either subservient or smart.

‘I wish her to leave it.’

‘She wishes to see you first.’

‘She takes queer measures.  I start to-morrow for my yacht at Cardiff.’  There the matter ended; for Fleetwood fell to talking of the mines.  At dinner and after dinner it was the topic, and after Howell Edwards had departed.

When the man who has a heart will talk of nothing but what concerns his interests, and the heart is hurt, it may be perceived by a cognizant friend, that this is his proud mute way of petitioning to have the tenderer subject broached.  Gower was sure of the heart, armoured or bandaged though it was,—­a haunt of evil spirits as well,—­and he began:  ’Now to speak of me half a minute.  You cajoled me out of my Surrey room, where I was writing, in the vein . . .’

‘I’ve had the scene before me!’ the earl interposed.  ’Juniper dells and that tree of the flashing leaf, and that dear old boy, your father, young as you and me, and saying love of Nature gives us eternal youth.  On with you.’

’I doubted whether I should be of use to you.  I told you the amount of alloy in my motives.  A year with you, I have subsistence for ten years assured to me.’

‘Don’t be a prosy dog, Gower Woodseer.’

‘Will you come over to the Wythans before you go?’

‘I will not.’

‘You would lengthen your stride across a wounded beast?’

‘I see no wound to the beast.’

‘You can permit yourself to kick under cover of a metaphor.’

‘Tell me what you drive at, Gower.’

’The request is, for you to spare pain by taking one step—­an extra strain on the muscles of the leg.  It ‘s only the leg wants moving.’

‘The lady has legs to run away, let them bring her back.’

’Why have me with you, then?  I’m useless.  But you read us all, see everything, and wait only for the mood to do the right.  You read me, and I’m not open to everybody.  You read the crux of a man like me in my novel position.  You read my admiration of a beautiful woman and effort to keep honest.  You read my downright preference of what most people would call poverty, and my enjoyment of good cookery and good company.  You enlist among the crew below as one of our tempters.  You find I come round to the thing I like best.  Therefore, you have your liking for me; and that’s why you turn to me again, after your natural infidelities.  So much for me.  You read this priceless lady quite as clearly.  You choose to cloud her with your moods.  She was at a disadvantage, ’arriving in a strange country, next to friendless; and each new incident bred of a luckless beginning—­I could say more.’