He was coming towards her. . . . Three paces away he halted, and his smile changed to a frown.

"You are in trouble?"

"It has pa.s.sed. I am happy now; and you are welcome, my lord."

She gave him her hand. He detained it.

"Who has annoyed you? Those women?"

She shook her head. "You might make a better guess, for you must have met him on the way. Mr. Silk was here a while ago."

"Silk?"

"And he--he asked me to marry him."

"The hound! But I don't understand. Silk here? I see the game; he must have played escort to those infernal women. . . . Somehow I hadn't suspected it, and Lady Caroline kept that cat in the bag when I surprised her at Natchett an hour ago. I wonder why?"

Ruth had a shrewd guess; but, fearing violence, forbore to tell it.

He went on: "But what puzzles me more is, how I missed meeting him."

In truth the explanation was simple enough. Mr. Silk, turning the corner of the lane, where it bent sharply around Farmer Cordery's wood-stacks, had chanced to spy Sir Oliver on a rise of the road to the eastward, and had edged aside and taken cover behind the stacks. He was now making for Natchett at his best speed.

"A while ago, you say? How long ago? The thief cannot have gone far--"

Sir Oliver looked behind him. Clearly he had a mind to call for his horse again and to pursue.

But Ruth put out a hand. "He is not worth my lord's anger."

For a moment he stood undecided, then broke into a laugh.

"Was he riding?"

"He was on horseback, to be more exact."

"Then he'll find it a stony long way back to Boston." He laughed again.

"You see, I've been worrying myself, off and on, about that trick of Madcap's--I'll be sworn she came within an ace of crossing her legs that day. I'd a mind to ride over and bring you Forester--he's a soberer horse, and can be trusted at timber. I'd resolved on it, in short, even before my brother Harry happened to blurt out the secret of Lady Caroline's little expedition. Soon as I heard that, I put George the groom on Forester, and came in chase. . . . I find her ladyship at Natchett, and after some straight talking I put George in charge of the conspirators, with instructions to drive them home. They chose to say nothing of Silk, and I didn't guess; so now the rogue must either leg it back or gall himself on a waggon-horse."

"You worried yourself about me?"

"Certainly. You don't suppose I want my pupil to break her neck?"

"You do Madcap injustice. Why, yesterday she jumped--she almost flew-- this very gate on which I am leaning."

"The more reason--" he began, and broke off. His tone had been light, but when he spoke again it had grown graver, sincerer. "It is a fact that I worried about you, but that is not all the reason why I am here.

The whole truth is more selfish. . . . Ruth, I cannot do without you."

She put up a hand, leaning back against the gate as though giddy.

"But why?" he urged, as she made no other response. "Is it that you still doubt me--or yourself, perhaps?"

"Both," she murmured. "It is not so easy as you pretend." Bliss had weakened her for a while, but the weakness was pa.s.sing.

"Those women have been talking to you. I can engage, whatever they said, I gave it back to 'em with interest. They sail by the next ship.

. . . But what did they say?"

"_They say. What say they? Let them say_," Ruth quoted, her lips smiling albeit her eyes were moist. "Does it matter what they said?"

"No; for I can guess. However the old harridan put it, you were asked to give me up; and, after all, everything turns on our answer to that.

I have given you mine. What of yours?" He stepped close. "Ruth, will you give me up?"

She put out her hands as one groping, sightless, and in pain.

"Ah, you are cruel! . . . You know I cannot."

BOOK III.

THE BRIDALS.

Chapter I.

BETROTHED.

Sir Oliver rode back to Boston that same evening. Ruth had stipulated that his promise to her folk in the beach cottage still held good; that when the three years were out, and not a day before, she would return to them and make her announcement. Meanwhile, although the coast would soon be clear of her enemies and he desired to have her near, she begged off returning to Sabines. Here at Sweet.w.a.ter Farm she could ride, with the large air about her and freedom to think. It was not that she shirked books and tutors. She would turn to them again, by-and-by.

But at Sweet.w.a.ter she could think things out, and she had great need of thinking.

He yielded. He was pa.s.sionately in love and could deny her nothing.

He would ride over and pay his respects once a week.

So he took his leave, and Ruth abode with the Corderys and Miss Quiney.

Disloyal though she felt it, she caught herself wishing, more than once, that her lord could have taken dear Tatty back with him to Boston.

I desire to depict Ruth Josselin here as the woman she was, not as an angel.

Now Tatty, when Sir Oliver had led Ruth indoors and presented her as his affianced wife, had been taken aback; not scandalised, but decidedly-- and, for so slight a creature, heavily--taken aback. It is undoubted that she loved Ruth dearly; nay, so dearly that in a general way no fortune was too high to befall her darling. What dreams she had entertained for her I cannot tell. Very likely they had been at once splendid and vague. Miss Quiney was not worldly-wise, yet her wisdom did not transcend what little she knew of the world. She had great notions of Family, for example. She had imagined, may be--still in a vague way--that Sir Oliver would some day provide his _protegee_ with a mate of good, or at least sufficient, Colonial birth. She had been outraged by Lady Caroline's suggestions. Now this, while it triumphantly refuted them, did seem to show that Lady Caroline had not altogether lacked ground for suspicion.

In fine, the dear creature received a shock, and in her flurry could not dissemble it.