father will attend you. Go--and lead them all, my dear."

In the field appeared Sir John Oxon, who for a brief visit was at
Eldershawe. He rode close to my lady, though she had naught to say to
him after her first greetings of civility. He looked not as fresh and
glowing with youth as had been his wont only a year ago. His reckless
wildness of life and his town debaucheries had at last touched his bloom,
perhaps. He had a haggard look at moments when his countenance was not
lighted by excitement. 'Twas whispered that he was deep enough in debt
to be greatly straitened, and that his marriage having come to naught his
creditors were besetting him without mercy. This and more than this, no
one knew so well as my Lady Dunstanwolde; but of a certainty she had
little pity for his evil case, if one might judge by her face, when in
the course of the running he took a hedge behind her, and pressing his
horse, came up by her side and spoke.

"Clorinda," he began breathlessly, through set teeth.

She could have left him and not answered, but she chose to restrain the
pace of her wild beast for a moment and look at him.

"'Your ladyship!'" she corrected his audacity. "Or--'my Lady
Dunstanwolde.'"

"There was a time"--he said.

"This morning," she said, "I found a letter in a casket in my closet. I
do not know the mad villain who wrote it. I never knew him."

"You did not," he cried, with an oath, and then laughed scornfully.