His answering smile was as ready as her own, but there was a secret triumph about it that hers lacked.  “Pray don’t trouble any further on my account!” he said courteously.  “I can find my own way.”

She threw him a nod, cool and kindly, over her shoulder, and took him at his word.  He watched her disappear into the room beyond, Columbus in close attendance; then for a few seconds his hands went up to his face, and he stood motionless, pressing his temples hard, feeling the blood surging at fever heat through his veins.  How marvellous she was—­and withal how gracious!  How had he dared?  Midsummer madness indeed!  And yet she had suffered him—­had even stooped to plead with him!

A great shaft of red sunlight burst suddenly through the heaped storm-clouds in the west.  He turned and faced it, dazzled but strangely exultant.  He felt as if his whole being had been plunged into the glowing flame.  The wonder of it pulsed through and through him.  As it were involuntarily, a prayer sprang to his lips.

“O God,” he said, “make me worthy!”

Then he turned, as if the glory had become too much for him, and went into the house.

He had been well acquainted with the place from boyhood though since the squire’s marriage he had ceased to enter it unannounced.  Before his appointment to the village school, he had acted for a time as the squire’s secretary; but it had never been more than a temporary arrangement and it had come to a speedy end when Mrs. Fielding became mistress of the Court.  Between her and her husband’s protege, as she scornfully called him, there had always existed a very decided antipathy.  She resented his presence in the house at any time, and though the squire made it abundantly clear that he would permit no open insolence on her part, she did not find it difficult to convey her feelings on the subject to the man himself.  He accepted the situation with a shrug and a smile, and though he did not discontinue his visits on her account, they became less frequent than formerly; and now generally he came and went again without seeing her.

The room he entered was empty.  He passed through it without a pause and found himself in the great entrance hall.  He crossed this to a door on the other side and, knocking briefly, opened it without waiting for a reply.

“Hullo!” said the squire’s voice.  “You, is it?  How did you get here?  Were you caught in the storm?”

“No, sir, I took shelter.”  Green shut the door, and came forward.

Mr. Fielding was seated in a leather arm-chair with a newspaper.  He looked at his visitor over it with anything but a favourable eye.

“What have you come for?” he said.

Green halted in front of him.  “I’ve come to make a very humble apology,” he said, “for my boy Robin’s misdemeanour.”

“Have you?” growled Fielding.  He sat motionless, still looking up at Green from under heavily scowling brows.  “Do you think I’m going to be satisfied with just an apology?”