"That is Sarah Sandys's carriage, my barony for it!" he exclaimed; "and the men are in the Sandys livery. Sarah, then, is in Richmond; and the woman who rides in her carriage is very likely in her house; but who can it be?"

The face haunted him, the voice tormented him like a melody that we continually try to catch. He endeavoured to place both as he rode out to Richmond. More than once the thought of Aspatria came to him, but he could not make any memory of her fit that splendid vision of the woman with uplifted hand and the string of pearls dropping from it.

Her exquisite face, between the beauty of their reflection and the flashing of the gems beneath, retained in his memory a kind of glory.

"Such loveliness is the proper setting for pearls and diamonds," he said. "Many a beauty I have seen, but none that can touch the heel of her shoe."

For he really thought that it was her personal charms which had so moved him. It was the sense of familiarity; it was in a far deeper and dimmer way a presentiment of right, of possession, a feeling of personal touch in the emotion, which perplexed and stimulated him as the mere mystery and beauty of the flesh could never have done.

As soon as he reached the top of Richmond Hill he saw Sarah. She was sauntering along that loveliest of cliffs, with Brune. An orderly was leading Brune's horse; he himself was in the first ecstasy of Sarah's acknowledged love. Ulfar went into the Star and Garter Inn and watched Sarah. He had no claim upon her, and yet he felt as if she had been false to him. "And for a mere soldier!" Then he looked critically at the soldier, and said, with some contempt: "I am sorry for him! Sarah Sandys will have her pastime, and then say, 'Farewell, good sir!'" As for the mere soldier being Brune Anneys, that was a thought out of Ulfar's horizon.

In a couple of hours he went to Sarah's. She met him with real delight.

"You are just five years lovelier, Sarah," he said.

"Admiration from Sir Ulfar Fenwick is admiration indeed!"

"Yes; I say you are beautiful, though I have just seen the most bewitching woman that ever blessed my eyes,--in your carriage too."

And then, swift as light or thought, there flashed across his mind a conviction that the Beauty and Aspatria were identical. It was a momentary intelligence; he grasped it merely as a clew that might lead him somewhere.

"In my carriage? I dare say it was Ria. She went to Piccadilly this morning about some jewels."

"She reminded me of Aspatria."

"Have you brought back with you that old trouble? I have no mind to hear more of it."

"Who is the lady I saw this morning?"

"She is the sister of the man I am going to marry. In four months she will be my sister."

"What is her name?"

"That is to tell you my secret, sir."

"I saw you throwing your enchantments over some soldier. I knew just how the poor fellow felt."

"Then you also have been in Arcadia. Be thankful for your past blessings. I do not expect you to rejoice with me; none of the apostolic precepts are so hard as that which bids us rejoice with those who do rejoice."

"Neither Elizabeth nor you have ever named Aspatria in your letters."

"Did you expect us to change guard over Ambar-Side? I dare say Aspatria has grown into a buxom, rosy-cheeked woman and quite forgotten you."

"I must go and see her."

"I think you ought. Also, you should give her her freedom. I consider your behaviour a dog-in-the-manger atrocity."

"Can you not pick nicer words, Sarah?"

"I would not if I could."

"Sarah, tell me truly, have I lost my good looks?"

She regarded him attentively a moment, and answered: "Not quite. You have some good points yet. You have grown thin and gray, and lost something, and perhaps gained something; but you are not very old, and then, you know, you have your t.i.tle, and your castle, and your very old, old family, and I suppose a good deal of money." In reality, she was sure that he had never before been so attractive; for he had now the magic of a countenance informed by intellect and experience, eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with light, lips neither loose nor coa.r.s.e, yet full of pa.s.sion and the faculty of enjoyment.

He smiled grimly at Sarah's list of his charms, and said, "When will you introduce me to your future sister?"

"This evening. Come about nine. I have a few sober people who will be delighted to hear your South American adventures. Ria goes to Lady Chester's ball soon after nine. Do not miss your chance."

"Could I see her now?"

"You could not."

"What for?"

"Do you suppose she would leave a _modiste_ for--you?"

"I wonder where Aspatria is!"

"Go and find out."

"Sarah, who is the young lady I saw in your carriage?"

"She is the sister of the officer you saw me with, the man I am going to marry."

"Where did you meet him?"

"At a friend's house."

"Where did you meet her?"

"Her brother brought her to my house. I asked her to stay with me, and finally we went to Italy together."

"She has a very aristocratic manner."

"She ought to have. She was educated at Mrs. St. Alban's, and she visits at the Earl of Arundel's, the Duke of Norfolk's, and the very exclusive Boleyns',--Lady Mary Boleyn is her friend, and she has also had the great advantage of my society for nearly two years."

"Then of course she is not Aspatria, and my heart is a liar, and my memory is a traitor, and my eyes do not see correctly. I will call about nine. I am at the Star and Garter. If she should name me at all--"

"Do you imagine she noticed you? and in such a public place as Howell's?"

"I really do imagine she noticed me. Ask her."

"I see you are in love again. After all that experience has done for you! It is a Nemesis, Ulfar. I have often noticed that, however faithless a man may be, there comes at last one woman who avenges all the rest. Enter Nemesis at nine to-night!"

"Sarah, you are an angel."

"Thank you, Ulfar. I thought you cla.s.sed me with the other side."

"As for Aspatria--"