‘That!’ said Mr. Adister.  He turned to the virgin Adiante, sat down and shut his eyes, fetching a breath.  He looked vacantly at Patrick.

’When you find a man purely destructive, you think him a devil, don’t you?’ he said.

‘A good first cousin to one,’ Patrick replied, watchful for a hint to seize the connection.

’If you think of hunting to-day, we have not many minutes to spare before we mount.  The meet is at eleven, five miles distant.  Go and choose your horse.  Caroline will drive there.’

Patrick consulted her on a glance for counsel.  ’I shall be glad to join you, sir, for to-morrow I must be off to my brother.’

‘Take it,’ Mr. Adister waved his hand hastily.  He gazed at his idol of untouched eighteen.  ‘Keep it safe,’ he said, discarding the sight of the princess.  ’Old houses are doomed to burnings, and a devil in the family may bring us to ashes.  And some day . . . !’ he could not continue his thought upon what he might be destined to wish for, and ran it on to, ’Some day I shall be happy to welcome your brother, when it pleases him to visit me.’

Patrick bowed, oppressed by the mighty gift.  ’I haven’t the word to thank you with, sir.’

Mr. Adister did not wait for it.

‘I owe this to you, Miss Adister,’ said Patrick.

Her voice shook:  ‘My uncle loves those who loved her.’

He could see she was trembling.  When he was alone his ardour of gratefulness enabled him to see into her uncle’s breast:  the inflexible frigidity; lasting regrets and remorse; the compassion for Philip in kinship of grief and loss; the angry dignity; the stately generosity.

He saw too, for he was clear-eyed when his feelings were not over-active, the narrow pedestal whereon the stiff figure of a man of iron pride must accommodate itself to stand in despite of tempests without and within; and how the statue rocks there, how much more pitiably than the common sons of earth who have the broad common field to fall down on and our good mother’s milk to set them on their legs again.

CHAPTER VIII

CAPTAIN CON AND MRS. ADISTER O’DONNELL

Riding homeward from the hunt at the leisurely trot of men who have steamed their mounts pretty well, Mr. Adister questioned Patrick familiarly about his family, and his estate, and his brother’s prospects in the army, and whither he intended first to direct his travels:  questions which Patrick understood to be kindly put for the sake of promoting conversation with a companion of unripe age by a gentleman who had wholesomely excited his blood to run.  They were answered, except the last one.  Patrick had no immediate destination in view.