"Beastly foolish!" A color sprang to Lord Ronsdale's face; he held
himself more erect.

"Not at all!" Sir Charles interposed. "A man can't help a bad liver or a
bad heart. One of those inscrutable visitations of Providence! But shall
we go on? You're sure you're quite yourself?"

"Quite!" The nobleman's tone was even harder and more metallic than
usual; his thin lips compressed to a tight line; his eyes that looked
out to a great distance were bright and glistening.

"Are you ready, Mr. Steele?" Jocelyn Wray waited a moment as the others
started, looked down at that gentleman. Her voice was gracious; its soft
accents seemed to say: "You may ride with me; it is your reward!"

For one restored so quickly to favor, with a felicitous prospect of gay
words and bright glances, John Steele seemed singularly dull and
apathetic. He exhibited no haste in the task he was engaged in;
straightened slowly and mounted with leisure. Once again in the saddle,
and on their way, it is true he appeared to listen to the girl; but his
responses were vague, lacking both in vivacity and humor. It was
impossible she should not notice this want of attention; she bit her
lips once; then she laughed.

"Do you know, Mr. Steele, if I were vain I should feel hurt."

"Hurt?" he repeated.

"You haven't heard what I have been saying." Her eyes challenged his.