Evan now laughed.  ‘We don’t call young men cruel, Miss Bonner.’

’But were they not?  To take advantage of what Rose told them—­it was base!’

She had said more than she intended, possibly, for she coloured under his inquiring look, and added:  ’I wish I could say the same as you of Beckley.  Do you know, I am called Rose’s thorn?’

‘Not by Miss Jocelyn herself, certainly!’

’How eager you are to defend her.  But am I not—­tell me—­do I not look like a thorn in company with her?’

‘There is but the difference that ill health would make.’

‘Ill health?  Oh, yes!  And Rose is so much better born.’

‘To that, I am sure, she does not give a thought.’

‘Not Rose?  Oh!’

An exclamation, properly lengthened, convinces the feelings more satisfactorily than much logic.  Though Evan claimed only the hand-kerchief he had won, his heart sank at the sound.  Miss Bonner watched him, and springing forward, said sharply: 

‘May I tell you something?’

‘You may tell me what you please.’

‘Then, whether I offend you or not, you had better leave this.’

‘I am going,’ said Evan.  ’I am only waiting to introduce your tutor to you.’

She kept her eyes on him, and in her voice as well there was a depth, as she returned: 

‘Mr. Laxley, Mr. Forth, and Harry, are going to Lymport to-morrow.’

Evan was looking at a figure, whose shadow was thrown towards the house from the margin of the stream.

He stood up, and taking the hand of Miss Bonner, said: 

’I thank you.  I may, perhaps, start with them.  At any rate, you have done me a great service, which I shall not forget.’

The figure by the stream he knew to be that of Rose.  He released Miss Bonner’s trembling moist hand, and as he continued standing, she moved to the door, after once following the line of his eyes into the moonlight.

Outside the door a noise was audible.  Andrew had come to sit with his dear boy, and the Countess had met and engaged and driven him to the other end of the passage, where he hung remonstrating with her.

‘Why, Van,’ he said, as Evan came up to him, ’I thought you were in a profound sleep.  Louisa said—­’

‘Silly Andrew!’ interposed the Countess, ’do you not observe he is sleep-walking now?’ and she left them with a light laugh to go to Juliana, whom she found in tears.  The Countess was quite aware of the efficacy of a little bit of burlesque lying to cover her retreat from any petty exposure.

Evan soon got free from Andrew.  He was under the dim stars, walking to the great fire in the East.  The cool air refreshed him.  He was simply going to ask for his own, before he went, and had no cause to fear what would be thought by any one.  A handkerchief!  A man might fairly win that, and carry it out of a very noble family, without having to blush for himself.