"Wait a bit. You haven't heard the whole position. You saw me in Catsford? You saw me bow to her?"

I nodded a.s.sent.

"Then I think I ought to go and pay her my respects--if it's not disagreeable to her to receive me."

"But why should it be?"

"I belong to Fillingford Manor. I'm living there now. Neither the master nor the lady of the house will--neither of them shares my views."

That did, on reflection, make the matter a little less simple than it had seemed at first.

"I don't suppose we either of us want to discuss their reasons--or wonder at the line they take. I had a little talk with my father about it. He's always very fair. 'You're a man,' he said. 'Decide for yourself. If after the recognition that pa.s.sed between you--and on your initiative, as I understand--you feel bound--as you say you do--as a gentleman to go and pay your respects, go. But I shall be obliged to you if you will make the relations between that house and this as distant as is consistent with the demands of courtesy.'"

"In view of that I don't think you're in any way bound to call: I'm not at all sure you ought to. Lord Fillingford's wishes are ent.i.tled to great weight--especially while you're living in his house."

He was a man now--and a fine specimen of one--but his boyish impetuosity had not left him. "By Jove, I want to go, Austin!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I thought that perhaps you did."

"I want to go and see her--and I should like to tell her, if I dared, that there's not a man in the service to touch her. I don't mean her driving through Catsford--though she took a risk there; some of those chaps aren't mealy-mouthed. I mean what she's done about this little Miss Octon. That's what I like. Because the girl's her man's daughter, she snaps her fingers at the lot of us! That's what I like, Austin--that's why I want to go and see her. But I couldn't say that to the governor."

"You'll never be able to, any better. So you must consider your course.

Is it--loyal--to your father?"

He knit his brows in perplexity and vexation. "Was I loyal to him that night we went to Hatcham Ford? You didn't make that objection then!"

"I don't think I should have taken any objection to anything that gave a chance then. I can look at this more coolly. Why not wait a little?

Perhaps Lord Fillingford will come to the conclusion that bygones had best be bygones."

"And Aunt Sarah?"

"Is that quite so essential?"

He sat struggling between his scruples and his strong desire--loyalty to his father, admiration of Jenny and attraction toward her.

"I might manage to give her a hint of how you feel--and about the difficulty."

"That'd be better than nothing. Then she'd understand----?"

"She'd understand the whole position perfectly," I a.s.sured him.

He was plainly discontented with this compromise, but he accepted it provisionally. "You give her that hint, anyhow, like a good fellow, Austin--and I'll think over the other matter." He rose from his chair.

"Now I mustn't keep Gerald Dormer waiting any longer."

"Oh, that's Gerald Dormer, is it--the new man at Hingston?"

"Yes, he's not a bad fellow--and he doesn't think he is, either." With this pa.s.sing indication of Mr. Dormer's foible, he led the way out of doors and introduced me to the subject of his remark. Gerald Dormer's manner was cordial and self-satisfied. We stood in talk a minute or two.

The news of the holiday and of the feast in our park had reached Dormer, and he laughingly demanded an invitation. "I'm pretty hard up, and n.o.body gives me a dinner!" he protested.

"I'll make a note of your hard case and submit it to Miss Driver. But you're not a Driver employee, you know."

"Oh, but I'm quite ready to be--for a good screw, Mr. Austin."

"Here she comes, by Jove!" said Lacey in a quick startled whisper.

Yes, there she was, within thirty yards of us, coming down the hill from the Priory straight toward my house. Lacey glanced at the dog-cart, seeming to meditate flight; then he pulled off the right-hand glove which he had just put on and b.u.t.toned.

"Is that Miss Driver?" whispered Dormer. I nodded a.s.sent.

Jenny was in great looks that day, and, it seemed, in fine spirits. Her head was held high, her step was buoyant, there was a delicate touch of color in her cheeks as she came up to us. She met the gaze of all our eyes--for all, I am sure, were on her--with a gay smile and no sign of embarra.s.sment.

"Why, I'm so glad to see you again," she cried to Lacey as she gave him her hand. "You can't think how often I've dreamed of our rides since I've been away!"

"I'm very glad to see you, Miss Driver. May I introduce my friend, Mr.

Dormer--of Hingston?"

She bowed to him very graciously, but turned back directly to Lacey. I saw Dormer's eyes follow her movements with an admiring curiosity. Small wonder; she was good to look at, and he had, no doubt, heard much.

"You must come and see me," said Jenny. "Now when shall it be? Lunch to-morrow? Or tea? Not later than the next day, anyhow!"

At that point she must have seen something in his face. She stopped, smiled oddly, even broke into a little laugh, and said, almost in a whisper, "Oh, I forgot, how stupid of me!"

Her tone and air, and the look in her hazel eyes, were nicely compounded of humility and mockery. Confessing herself unworthy, she asked the man if he were afraid! Didn't he dare to trust himself--was he so careful of his reputation?

Lacey had promised me that he would "think over" the question of his relations toward Breysgate Priory. I suppose that he thought it over now--under Jenny's humble deriding eyes.

"Lunch to-morrow--I shall be delighted. Thanks awfully," he said.

So ended that case of conscience. Jenny said no more than "One-thirty"--but her lips curved over that prosaic intimation of the hour of the meal. She turned to Dormer.

"Could I persuade you to drop in, too, Mr. Dormer? We're neighbors, you know."

"It's most kind of you, Miss Driver. I shall be delighted."

No scruples there; yet he, too, was, as he had chanced to mention, a guest at Fillingford Manor.

"Besides, I want to get something out of you," Jenny went on, "and I'm much more likely to do that if I give you a good lunch."

"Something out of me? What, Miss Driver?"

"Ah, I shan't tell you now. Perhaps I may--after lunch."

He leaned down toward her and said banteringly, "You'll have to ask me very nicely!"

"You may be sure I shall!" cried Jenny, with a swift upward glance.

Jenny was flirting again--with both of them--perhaps with me also, for her side-glances in my direction challenged and defied my opinion of her proceedings. I was glad to see it; I did not want her abnegations to go too far, and it is always a pity that natural gifts should be wasted; one might, however, feel pretty sure that any Lent of hers would have its _Mi-Careme_.