His voice was very low, his eyes all tenderness. He had been reproaching
himself that he had so often of late avoided difficult discussions and
thorny questions with her. Was she hurt, and did he deserve it?

"I will go driving with you," she said slowly.

"Very well"--he sprang up. "I will be back in twenty minutes--with the
pony."

He left her, and she dreamed afresh over her book.

She was thinking of a luncheon at Whinthorpe, to which she had been
taken, sorely against her will, to meet the Bishop. And the Bishop had
treated her with a singular and slighting coldness. There was no blinking
the fact in the least. Other people had noticed it. Helbeck had been pale
with wrath and distress. As far as she could remember, she had laughed
and talked a good deal.

Well, what wonder?--if they thought her just a fast ill-conducted girl,
who had worked upon Mr. Helbeck's pity and softness of heart?

Suddenly she put out her hand restlessly to pluck at the hedge beside
her. She had been stung by the memory of herself--under the Squire's
window, in the dawn. She saw herself--helpless, and asleep, the tired
truant come back to the feet of her master. When he found her so, what
could he do but pity her?--be moved, perhaps beyond bounds, by the
goodness of a generous nature?

Next, something stronger than this doubt touched the lips with a flying
smile--shy and lovely. But she was far from happy. Since her talk with