‘The key of the position, as you said,’ Mr. Wythan remarked, not proffering an opinion of it more than was expressed by a hearty, rosy countenance, that had to win its way with the earl before excuse was found for the venturesome repetition of his phrase.

Cantering back to that home of the loves of Gower Woodseer and Madge Winch, the thought of his first act of penance done, without his feeling the poorer for it, reconciled Fleetwood to the aspect of the hollow place.

He could not stay beneath the roof.  His task of breakfasting done, he was off before the morning’s delivery of letters, riding round the country under Croridge, soon up there again.  And Henrietta might be at home, he was reminded by hearing band-music as he followed the directions to the house named Stoneridge.  The band consisted of eight wind instruments; they played astonishingly well for itinerant musicians.  By curious chance, they were playing a selection from the Pirata; presently he heard the notes to ‘il mio tradito amor.’  They had hit upon Henrietta’s favourite piece!

At the close of it he dismounted, flung the reins to his groom, and, addressing a compliment to the leader, was deferentially saluted with a ‘my lord.’  Henrietta stood at the window, a servant held the door open for him to enter; he went in, and the beautiful young woman welcomed him:  ’Oh, my dear lord, you have given me such true delight!  How very generous of you!’ He protested ignorance.  She had seen him speak to the conductor and receive the patron’s homage; and who but he knew her adored of operas, or would have had the benevolent impulse to think of solacing her exile from music in the manner so sure of her taste!  She was at her loveliest:  her features were one sweet bloom, as of the sunny flower garden; and, touched to the heart by the music and the kindness, she looked the look that kisses; innocently, he felt, feeling himself on the same good ground while he could own he admired the honey creature, much as an amateur may admire one of the pictures belonging to the nation.

‘And you have come . . .?’ she said.  ’We are to believe in happy endings?’

He shrugged, as the modest man should, who says: 

‘If it depends on me’; but the words were firmly spoken and could be credited.

’Janey is with her brother down at Lekkatts.  Things are at a deadlock.  A spice of danger, enough to relieve the dulness; and where there is danger Janey’s at home.’  Henrietta mimicked her Janey.  ’Parades with her brother at night; old military cap on her head; firearms primed; sings her Austrian mountain songs or the Light Cavalry call, till it rings all day in my ears—­she has a thrilling contralto.  You are not to think her wild, my lord.  She’s for adventure or domesticity, “whichever the Fates decree.”  She really is coming to the perfect tone.’

‘Speak of her,’ said the earl.  ‘She can’t yet overlook . . . ?’