The total disappearance of the pair of heroes who had been the latest in the conspiracy to vex his delicate charge, gave Mr. Beamish a high opinion of Caseldy as an assistant in such an office as he held.  They had gone, and nothing more was heard of them.  Caseldy confined his observations on the subject to the remark that he had employed the best means to be rid of that kind of worthies; and whether their souls had fled, or only their bodies, was unknown.  But the duchess had quiet promenades with Caseldy to guard her, while Mr. Beamish counted the remaining days of her visit with the impatience of a man having cause to cast eye on a clock.  For Duchess Susan was not very manageable now; she had fits of insurgency, and plainly said that her time was short, and she meant to do as she liked, go where she liked, play when she liked, and be an independent woman—­if she was so soon to be taken away and boxed in a castle that was only a bigger sedan.

Caseldy protested he was as helpless as the beau.  He described the annoyance of his incessant running about at her heels in all directions amusingly, and suggested that she must be beating the district to recover her ‘strange cavalier,’ of whom, or of one that had ridden beside her carriage half a day on her journey to the Wells, he said she had dropped a sort of hint.  He complained of the impossibility of his getting an hour in privacy with his Chloe.

‘And I, accustomed to consult with her, see too little of her,’ said Mr. Beamish.  ’I shall presently be seeing nothing, and already I am sensible of my loss.’

He represented his case to Duchess Susan:—­that she was for ever driving out long distances and taking Chloe from him, when his occupation precluded his accompanying them; and as Chloe soon was to be lost to him for good, he deeply felt her absence.

The duchess flung him enigmatical rejoinders:  ’You can change all that, Mr. Beamish, if you like, and you know you can.  Oh, yes, you can.  But you like being a butterfly, and when you’ve made ladies pale you’re happy:  and there they’re to stick and wither for you.  Never!—­I’ve that pride.  I may be worried, but I’ll never sink to green and melancholy for a man.’

She bridled at herself in a mirror, wherein not a sign of paleness was reflected.

Mr. Beamish meditated, and he thought it prudent to speak to Caseldy manfully of her childish suspicions, lest she should perchance in like manner perturb the lover’s mind.

‘Oh, make your mind easy, my dear sir, as far as I am concerned,’ said Caseldy.  ’But, to tell you the truth, I think I can interpret her creamy ladyship’s innuendos a little differently and quite as clearly.  For my part, I prefer the pale to the blowsy, and I stake my right hand on Chloe’s fidelity.  Whatever harm I may have the senseless cruelty—­misfortune, I may rather call it—­to do that heavenly-minded woman in our days to come, none shall say of me that I was ever for an instant guilty of the baseness of doubting her purity and constancy.  And, sir, I will add that I could perfectly rely also on your honour.’