The day on which Harry Bennet wired that he had drawn on Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, for two thousand pounds, was the first day of the Goodwood meeting.

Bennet was a man who lost and won large sums on the turf, and it was not in the least unusual for him to wager several thousands on a single event, especially if it were one of the greater races. With him betting was a disease, a mania, so strong and uncontrolled ran the gambling fever in his blood.

His love for Kitty Thornton was genuine, but it had to take a second place to this appalling madness.

When he saw her and Helen and Gilbert Eversleigh in the punt on the river, he told himself as he rowed up-stream that he must lose no time in declaring himself to the girl. He cursed Gilbert in his thoughts, but believed his chance was at least as good as his rival's. And if it had not been for some racing business he was compelled to attend to that evening, he would have gone to Ivydene. If he had, the probability is that Kitty and Gilbert would not have been left alone that night under the white magic of the moon, and their engagement would not have taken place—at least, not at that particular time.

If he had gone to Ivydene that evening it is more than possible that the life-current of their lives would have changed its course.

In any case, that evening of fate passed, and next day, being the opening at Goodwood, saw Harry on the course plunging wildly and losing heavily. Nor had he any luck that afternoon—hence the draft for two thousand on the solicitors, after he had exhausted his ready money.

The second day at Goodwood brought him a little better fortune, and he came out of it without positive disaster. It was not necessary to call for more funds.

In the first race on the third day his own horse, Go Nap, ran. It was known that the animal had done fairly well in its trials, and there was a good deal of outside money on it. Harry, of course, backed it. Go Nap won handsomely, and from that moment Harry's luck changed. Plunging more recklessly than ever, he more than succeeded in recovering himself. At the end of the day he was a heavy winner.

He made his biggest coup on a horse which lost. Harry had laid against it, although it was a hot favourite. It should have won on its form quite easily, everybody said, and there were rumours of foul play. An investigation was talked of and eventually was held, but nothing came of it. The impression, however, was that there had been some "crooked work" in the matter. None was more forward in denying it than Bennet. Fortunately for him, it was not known that he had won a large sum, or there might have been suspicions of his good faith. And presently the disputings, the angry arguments, the murmurings, the bickerings, died away, but what had happened was not forgotten.

On the fourth day of the meeting Bennet was again a winner, though the total of his gains was not so great as that of the day before. Taken altogether, however, it had been an excellent Goodwood for him, and he was correspondingly elated.

His home was at Hampton Court, and he returned to it in high feather. The first thing he did next morning was to go to Ivydene. He had made up his mind to speak to Kitty of his passion, and to ask her to be his wife. Being away at the races he had not heard of her engagement, and intoxicated with his success at Goodwood he felt himself a conquering hero, who had only to come, and be seen, to triumph instantly.

He found Kitty at home and alone, nor did the maiden seem displeased to see him. She had no suspicion, however, of the nature of his errand.

He was so full of his good fortune at the races, that, as soon as the customary greetings were over, he forthwith launched out into the story of his four days' campaign. Kitty had a pretty natural gift of listening sympathetically, and the young man was greatly pleased with the interest she manifested in his narrative—so much so that his spirit glowed within him. And, of course, Kitty congratulated him on the victory of his horse, Go Nap, and on his other successes.

As he looked at the beautiful girl, a strong desire came upon him to speak to her at once of his passion, but a certain novel bashfulness, arising from the very reality of the love he felt for her, restrained him at the moment. Instead of going to the point at once, he began by asking in the most banal fashion if she had any news.

Now, Kitty had two great pieces of news—one of them a very great piece of news indeed; one was the coming of her father, the other her engagement to Gilbert Eversleigh. It was of the first she chose to speak.

"News? Yes," said Kitty, eagerly, "great news. Have you heard that my father is expected here from Canada next week?—but, perhaps, you have heard of it."

"No, I have not heard of it. Rather sudden, is it not?" asked Bennet. "You did not know of it, I think, Miss Kitty, when I saw you some days ago."

"I had a letter from my father the very next morning."

"He arrives next week, you say? On what day do you look for him?"

"That I can't tell you, for he has not mentioned any fixed day; but he will be here very soon. And, oh! I shall be glad to see him!"

"Yes. It will be a great pleasure to you to see him again."

"It will make me very happy," said Kitty, simply, who was now counting the days and finding them somewhat long.

While the girl was speaking, Bennet was thinking that it would be better for him to declare himself before the arrival of her father. Did he put it off till afterwards, it was probable that Morris Thornton would make some inquiries about him—in which case his infatuation for betting and horse-racing would be bound to come out, and Thornton might take a severe view of his conduct. But the matter would appear in a different light if he were engaged to Kitty before her father's appearance on the scene.

They had been sitting in the drawing-room of Ivydene quite near each other. Suddenly, to Kitty's surprise, Bennet rose, and with outstretched hands stood in front of her. He gave her no time to check him—his words flowed like a torrent.

"Miss Kitty, your father will make you happy; will you not make me happy too? You can make me the happiest of men. I love you, you darling Kitty! Tell me that you do not regard me with indifference! Tell me that you will not refuse my love, Kitty! Do not send me away from your sweet presence. I love you, I adore you for your beauty, for your sweetness, for yourself. Kitty, do you love me? I will do anything and everything a man can to show you I love you. Kitty, dearest, tell me——"

Springing a step forward, he tried to clasp her in his arms, but she retreated and then waved him back.

Bennet had spoken well, and with a rough sincerity which the girl could not but feel. She tried to stop him, but he would not be stopped. As he had gone on, her face had paled and her eyes had grown full of trouble and distress. She now blamed herself for not putting her second piece of news before the other. Trouble and distress also showed themselves in the agitation with which she replied to him.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. What you ask is impossible!"

"Impossible! You don't mean it, Kitty, surely," exclaimed Bennet. "Oh, say you don't mean it!"

He was so cocksure of himself and of her that he could not believe she was in earnest. His self-confidence was so great that it blinded him, otherwise he must have seen that she had no such answer to give him as he wished.

"Yes, it is impossible," she said, quietly and firmly. "I am very sorry to pain you, Harry, very sorry indeed; you may be quite sure of that."

The young man's eyes filled with an angry light while the hot colour flushed his cheeks.

"It is your love I want, not your sorrow," he said roughly.

"That I cannot give you," said Kitty. "Wait a moment, Harry. A few minutes ago you asked me if I had any news. Well, I did not tell you all the news. There was one piece of news I felt a certain reticence about. I wish now I had mentioned it to you. For, if I had done so you would not have said—what you have said. It is that I am engaged to be married."

"Oh, Kitty!" cried Bennet, in a voice that seemed to ask her how she dared become engaged to any one but himself. "You are engaged! This is news indeed ... I wish I had known ... engaged!" And Bennet, who was not able to contain his rage and mortification, glowered at the girl, as these words came brokenly from him. Then he looked at her for some seconds in silence, and his look was not pleasant.

"I am sorry," said Kitty once more, but her accent was cold. She thought he was not behaving prettily, and that it was time for him to go.

"May I ask who is the lucky man?" he inquired, his face dark with wrath; but in his heart he had already guessed that Gilbert Eversleigh was his successful rival.

"I do not know that you have any right to address me as you are doing," said Kitty with dignity. "You asked a question and you have had your answer." But as she looked at Bennet she relented a little. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Harry," she went on, "but there is nothing more to be said."

"I suppose it is Gilbert," said Bennet.

Kitty nodded assent.

Bennet gazed at her gloomily; there was something threatening in the black gleams he shot at her.

"Have you no good wishes for me?" she asked, making an effort to remind him that he should at least try to play the part of a gentleman.

But Bennet only glared at her speechlessly.

At length, muttering some words so incoherently that the girl could not catch them, he turned and left the room abruptly.

And he kept muttering the same words over and over again as he returned to his home; they made an infernal chorus in his thoughts, the burden of which was, "She shall never marry you, Master Gilbert, never, never, if I can prevent her. She shall marry me, me, me, nobody but me." And yet, even while he kept on saying this to himself, he could not conceal from his innermost soul that he was powerless. Kitty and Gilbert were engaged; there was the bitter fact. Still, he whispered in his heart, they were not married, and until Kitty was actually united to Gilbert there was always room for a little hope.

Of Gilbert Eversleigh he thought with burning hatred, and longed for an opportunity of doing him an injury. In his first rage he had an idea that he would withdraw all his business from Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, but after he had somewhat cooled he came to the conclusion not to do so. The firm, he argued, was far too big and well-established and wealthy to be hurt much by the loss of a single client like him. Bennet's opinion of the standing of the firm was the same as that held by everybody else. Besides, there was another reason for continuing with the Lincoln's Inn solicitors. He told himself that if he placed his affairs in the hands of other lawyers, Francis Eversleigh would inevitably be displeased, and this would lead to a coolness between them which would make it impossible for him to visit at Ivydene. But while Kitty remained beneath the roof of Francis Eversleigh, Bennet had no desire to cut himself off from seeing her there. And he meant to go on seeing her. For, so long as she was unmarried he did not altogether despair. He said to himself that he would wait and see if chance did not throw something in his way.

As for Kitty, she thought it best to say not a word to Gilbert of Harry Bennet's proposal, but she took an opportunity of cautioning her lover to beware of him.

To say that Kitty was amazed and dismayed at the presumptuousness, the boorishness, the bad manners Bennet had exhibited, would give but a faint indication of what she felt. She considered his behaviour, with its unconcealed menace, little short of an outrage. Yet, at the same time, an alarmed instinct in her apprised her that the man was dangerous, and that vigilance was necessary in dealing with him.

Gilbert was rather inclined gently to laugh down the warning Kitty gave him; in his abounding happiness he smiled at her fears, but she insisted none the less that Bennet was a man to be watched.

"You must always be on your guard with him," she said.

"What can he do, my darling?" asked Gilbert. "Nothing," he said, with reassuring caresses.