taken completely by surprise, and was close to them before he could collect his thoughts so as to do any thing.  To evade them was impossible, and so he rode on.  As he approached, the ladies saw his face.  It was a face that one would remember afterward.  There was on it a profound sadness and dejection, while at the same time the prevailing expression was one of sternness.  The ladies both bowed.  Scone Dacres raised his hat, and disclosed his broad, massive brow.  He did not look at Minnie.  His gaze was fixed on Mrs. Willoughby.  Her veil was down, and he seemed trying to read her face behind it.  As he passed he threw a quick, vivid glance at Girasole.  It was not a pleasant glance by any means, and was full of quick, fierce, and insolent scrutiny—­a “Who-the-devil-are-you?” glance.  It was for but an instant, however, and then he glanced at Mrs. Willoughby again, and then he had passed.

The ladies soon reached their home, and at once retired to Mrs. Willoughby’s room.  There Minnie flung herself upon the sofa, and Mrs. Willoughby sat down, with a perplexed face.

“What in the world are we to do?” said she.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Minnie.  “I knew it was going to be so.  I said that he would find me again.”

“He is so annoying.”

“Yes, but, Kitty dear, we can’t be rude to him, you know, for he saved my life.  But it’s horrid, and I really begin to feel quite desperate.”

“I certainly will not let him see you.  I have made up my mind to that.”

“And oh! how he will be coming and calling, and tease, tease, teasing.  Oh dear!  I do wonder what Lord Hawbury thought.  He looked so amazed.  And then—­oh, Kitty dear, it was so awfully funny!—­did you notice that other man?”

Mrs. Willoughby nodded her head.

“Did you notice how awfully black he looked?  He wouldn’t look at me at all. I know why.”

Mrs. Willoughby said nothing.

“He’s awfully jealous.  Oh, I know it.  I saw it in his face.  He was as black as a thunder-cloud.  Oh dear!  And it’s all about me.  Oh, Kitty darling, what shall I do?  There will be something dreadful, I know.  And how shocking to have it about me.  And then the newspapers.  They’ll all have it.  And the reporters.  Oh dear!  Kitty, why don’t you say something?”

“Why, Minnie dearest, I really don’t know what to say.”

“But, darling, you must say something.  And then that Scone Dacres.  I’m more afraid of him than any body.  Oh, I know he’s going to kill some one.  He is so big.  Oh, if you had only been on his back, Kitty darling, and had him run down a steep mountain-side, you’d be as awfully afraid of him as I am.  Oh, how I wish Lord Hawbury would drive them off, or somebody do something to save me.”

“Would you rather that Lord Hawbury would stay, or would you like him to go too?”