She finished her sentence therefore, and then resigned herself to the martyrdom of being grossly misunderstood.

For that he utterly misread her motives was apparent from his very expression, even before he said with extreme deliberation:  “Mrs. Forest, you will oblige me very greatly by not pursuing this subject any further.  As I said to you before, Chris is in my keeping now, and it will be my first care to see that no harm comes to her.  As to my secretary, he has left me for good, and I doubt if I ever see him again.”

“I see,” said Aunt Philippa.  “You have quarrelled with him then?”

“I have.”  Sternly he made reply.  He still held the note she had given him crumpled in his hand.

Aunt Philippa stiffened her neck severely.  “And you left them alone to say good-bye!  My dear Trevor, are you mad, or only criminally indifferent to your own interests?”

“I am neither,” he said.

“And do you know what happened?”

“I do not wish to know.”

She contemplated him for a moment in silence, then:  “Your own servant has more common sense,” she said.

“Do you mean Holmes?” He spoke with absolute composure, not as one vitally interested; but his eyes made her nervous, they were so still and intent.

“I do mean Holmes,” she said.  “He came to me in the course of the morning and informed me that his mistress was under the yew-tree and wanted me.  I thought his message unusual at the time.  When I went out to the yew-tree about ten minutes later, I understood the meaning of it.  They were together there, in each other’s arms.  I did not interrupt them, for I felt it my duty to ascertain, if possible, how far the mischief had gone.  But I was not successful.  The interview came to an end almost at once.  He knelt down upon the ground and kissed her hands, after which he got up and went away.  I did not hear what he said to her, but it was certainly no word of farewell.  Personally I am convinced that his leave-taking was not final.  As for Chris herself, she seemed dazed, and I left her to recover.”

Aunt Philippa paused.  He had not interrupted her, but she did not feel his silence to be reassuring.  She found it impossible to meet his look any longer, though she made a valiant effort to do so.

“I hope you will believe,” she said, after a moment, “that nothing but a most urgent sense of duty has impelled me to tell you this.”

He did not answer, and she began to flounder a little, finding his silence hard to fathom.

“I felt that you ought to be upon your guard.  As I have told you before, not one of the Wyndhams is to be trusted.  I think you have been too generous in this respect, and have laid yourself open to deception.  However—­now that I have warned you once more, you will perhaps be more careful in the future.  I can only hope that my warning has come in time.”

Again she paused, but still he remained silent, looking straight at her with a steely regard that never altered.