Here, on rainy days, Sir Christopher and his lady took their promenade, and here billiards were played; but, in the evening, it was forsaken by all except Caterina—­and, sometimes, one other person.

She paced up and down in the moonlight, her pale face and thin white-robed form making her look like the ghost of some former Lady Cheverel come to revisit the glimpses of the moon.

By-and-by she paused opposite the broad window above the portico, and looked out on the long vista of turf and trees now stretching chill and saddened in the moonlight.

Suddenly a breath of warmth and roses seemed to float towards her, and an arm stole gently round her waist, while a soft hand took up her tiny fingers.  Caterina felt an electric thrill, and was motionless for one long moment; then she pushed away the arm and hand, and, turning round, lifted up to the face that hung over her eyes full of tenderness and reproach.  The fawn-like unconsciousness was gone, and in that one look were the ground tones of poor little Caterina’s nature—­intense love and fierce jealousy.

‘Why do you push me away, Tina?’ said Captain Wybrow in a half-whisper; ’are you angry with me for what a hard fate puts upon me?  Would you have me cross my uncle—­who has done so much for us both—­in his dearest wish?  You know I have duties—­we both have duties—­before which feeling must be sacrificed.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Caterina, stamping her foot, and turning away her head; ‘don’t tell me what I know already.’

There was a voice speaking in Caterina’s mind to which she had never yet given vent.  That voice said continually.  ’Why did he make me love him—­why did he let me know he loved me, if he knew all the while that he couldn’t brave everything for my sake?’ Then love answered, ’He was led on by the feeling of the moment, as you have been, Caterina; and now you ought to help him to do what is right.’  Then the voice rejoined, ’It was a slight matter to him.  He doesn’t much mind giving you up.  He will soon love that beautiful woman, and forget a poor little pale thing like you.’

Thus love, anger, and jealousy were struggling in that young soul.

‘Besides, Tina,’ continued Captain Wybrow in still gentler tones, ’I shall not succeed.  Miss Assher very likely prefers some one else; and you know I have the best will in the world to fail.  I shall come back a hapless bachelor—­perhaps to find you already married to the good-looking chaplain, who is over head and ears in love with you.  Poor Sir Christopher has made up his mind that you’re to have Gilfil.

’Why will you speak so?  You speak from your own want of feeling.  Go away from me.’

’Don’t let us part in anger, Tina.  All this may pass away.  It’s as likely as not that I may never marry any one at all.  These palpitations may carry me off, and you may have the satisfaction of knowing that I shall never be anybody’s bride-groom.  Who knows what may happen?  I may be my own master before I get into the bonds of holy matrimony, and be able to choose my little singing-bird.  Why should we distress ourselves before the time?’