the good fellow he is.  Then I rode home with Maria.  I would not have Mr. Carroll come with me, though he begged hard.  Father was in here, writing his brief.  But I was all in pieces, Richard, and so shaken with sobbing that I could tell him no more than that you had gone to the Coffee House, where they meant to draw you into a duel.  He took me up to my own room, and I heard him going out to wake Limbo to harness, and at last heard him driving away in our coach.  I hope I may never in my life spend such another hour as I passed then.”

The light in the sky had gone out.  I looked up at the girl before me as she stood gazing into the flame, her features in strong relief, her lips parted, her hair red-gold, and the rounded outlines of her figure softened.  I wondered why I had never before known her beauty.  Perchance it was because, until that night, I had never seen her heart.

I leaped to my feet and seized her hands.  For a second she looked at me, startled.  Then she tore them away and ran behind the dipping chair in the corner.

“Richard, Richard!” she exclaimed.  “Did Dorothy but know!”

“Dorothy is occupied with titles,” I said.

Patty’s lip quivered.  And I knew, blundering fool that I was, that I had hurt her.

“Oh, you wrong her!” she cried; “believe me when I say that she loves you, and you only, Richard.”

“Loves me!” I retorted bitterly,—­brutally, I fear.  “No.  She may have once, long ago.  But now her head is turned.”

“She loves you now,” answered Patty, earnestly; “and I think ever will, if you but deserve her.”

And with that she went away, leaving me to stare after her in perplexity and consternation.

CHAPTER XVII

SOUTH RIVER

My grandfather’s defection from St. Anne’s called forth a deal of comment in Annapolis.  His Excellency came to remonstrate, but to no avail, and Mr. Carvel denounced the rector in such terms that the Governor was glad to turn the subject.  My Uncle Grafton acted with such quickness and force as would have served to lull the sharpest suspicions.  He forbid the rector his house, attended the curate’s service, and took Philip from his care.  It was decided that both my cousin and I were to go to King’s College after Christmas.  Grafton’s conduct greatly pleased my grandfather.  “He has behaved very loyally in this matter, Richard.” he said to me.  “I grow to reproach myself more every day for the injustice I once did him.  He is heaping coals of fire upon my old head.  But, faith!  I cannot stomach your Aunt Caroline.  You do not seem to like your uncle, lad.”

I answered that I did not.

“It was ever the Carvel way not to forget,” he went on.  “Nevertheless, Grafton hath your welfare at heart, I think.  His affection for you as his brother’s son is great.”

O that I had spoken the words that burned my tongue!