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 . . . ?’

‘It’s in the family.  She will overlook anything her brother excuses.’

‘I’m here to see him.’

‘I heard it from Mr. Wythan.’

‘"Owain,” I believe?’

Henrietta sketched apologies, with a sidled head, soft pout, wavy hand.  ’He belongs to the order of primitive people.  His wife—­the same pattern, one supposes—­pledged them to their Christian names.  The man is a simpleton, but a gentleman; and Janey holds his dying wife’s wish sacred.  We are all indebted to him.’

‘Whatever she thinks right!’ said Fleetwood.

The fair young woman’s warm nature flew out to him on a sparkle of grateful tenderness in return for his magnanimity, oblivious of the inflamer it was:  and her heart thanked him more warmly, without the perilous show of emotion, when she found herself secure.