“

Lois is late this morning,” Vandermere remarked, looking up at the clock.

“And on her birthday, too!” Lady Mary declared. “Young people, nowadays, are so blasÉ. Look at all those presents on the table for her, and here the breakfast gong has rung twice, and there is no sign of her.”

Vandermere turned to his host.

“You haven’t heard anything about that fellow Saton?” he asked. “You don’t know whether he is in the neighborhood or not?”

“I have not heard,” Rochester answered. “To tell you the truth, if he has as much sense as I believe he has, he is probably on his way to the Continent by now.”

“I have an idea, somehow,” Vandermere continued, “that Lois is afraid he’ll turn up to-day.”

“If Lois is afraid,” Rochester remarked, “let me tell you in confidence, Vandermere, that I don’t think you need be.”

“My dear girl!” Lady Mary exclaimed, looking toward the staircase. “We were just going in to breakfast without you, and on your birthday, too!”

Lois came slowly down the broad stairs into the hall. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she was pale, and that she walked as one in fear. Her eyes were sunken, and spoke of a sleepless night. Her manner was almost furtive. She scarcely glanced, even, at the little pile of packages which stood upon the table.

“How nice of you all to wait!” she said. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good morning, and many happy returns to you!” Lady Mary called out. “Will you look at your presents now or after breakfast?”

“I think after breakfast,” she said. “Are there any letters?”

“They are on the table,” Rochester said.

She glanced them through eagerly. When she had come to the last one, she drew a little breath of relief. A tinge of color came into her cheeks.

“You dear people!” she exclaimed, impulsively. “I know I am going to have ever such nice things to thank you for. May I be a child, and put off looking at them until after breakfast? Do you mind, all of you?”

“Of course not,” Vandermere answered. “We want you to tell us how you would like to spend the day.”

“I would like to ride—a long way away,” she declared, breathlessly. “Or the motor-car—I shouldn’t mind that. I should like to go as far away as ever we can, and stay away until it is dark. Could we start directly after breakfast?”

Rochester smiled.

“You can have the car so far as I am concerned,” he said. “I have to go over to Melton to sit on the Bench, and your aunt and I are lunching with the Delameres afterwards. But if you can put up with Vandermere as an escort!”

“I’ll try,” she answered. “Dear Maurice, do order the car for half-an-hour’s time, will you?”

He laughed.

“Why this wild rush?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It is just a feeling, perhaps. I want to get away, a long way off, very soon. I can’t explain. Don’t ask me to explain, any of you. You are sure those are all the letters?”

“Certain,” Rochester answered. “And, Lois,” he added, looking up, “remember this. You speak and look this morning like one who has fears. I repeat it, you have absolutely nothing to fear. I am your guardian still, although you are of age, and I promise you that nothing harmful, nothing threatening, shall come near you.”

She drew a little sigh. She did not make him any answer at all, and yet in a sense it was clear that his words had brought her some comfort.

“Don’t expect us back till dinner-time,” she declared. “I am going to sit behind with Maurice and be bored to death, but I am going to be out of doors till it is dark. I wish you did not bore me so, Maurice,” she added, smiling up at him.

“I won’t to-day, anyhow,” he answered, “because if I talk at all I am going to talk about yourself.”

As the day wore on, Lois seemed to lose the depression which had come over her during the early morning. By luncheon she was laughing and chattering, talking over her presents. Soon, when they were speeding on the road again, she felt her hand suddenly held.

“Lois,” her companion said, “this is your birthday, and you are a free woman, free to give yourself to whom you will. It should be the happiest day of your life. Won’t you make it the happiest day of mine?”

“Oh, if only I could!” she answered, with a sudden return of her old nervousness. “Maurice, if only I dared!”

He laughed scornfully.

“Dear Lois,” he said, “you are impressionable, and you have let yourself become the victim of some very foolish fancies. You are a free agent. I tell you this now, and I tell you the truth. You are a free agent, free to give your love where you will, free to give yourself to whom you choose. And I come to you first on your birthday, Lois. You know that I love you. Give yourself to me, little girl, and never anything harmful shall come near you. I swear it, on my honor, Lois.”

She drew a little sigh of content, and her arm stole shyly up to his shoulder. In a moment she was in his arms.

“Don’t be angry with me, Maurice,” she sobbed, “if I am a little strange just at first. I am afraid—I can’t tell you what of—but I am afraid.”

He talked to her reassuringly, holding her hands—most of the time, in fact, for the country was a sparsely populated one, with his arm around her waist. And then suddenly she seemed to lose her new-found content. Her cheeks were suddenly white. She looked everywhere restlessly about.

“What is the matter, dear?” he asked anxiously.

“I thought that I heard something!” she exclaimed. “What is the time?”

“Four o’clock,” he answered, looking at his watch.

“Please tell the man to go back, straight back home,” she said. “I am tired. I must get back. Please, Maurice!”

He gave the chauffeur instructions through the speaking-tube. The car swung round, and they sped on their way through the quiet lanes.

“Dear Lois,” he said, “something has come over you. Your hands are cold, and you have drawn yourself away. Now please be honest and tell me all about it. If you have fears, all I can say is that you may dismiss them. You are safe now that you have given yourself to me, as safe as anyone in the world could be.”

“Oh! If I could believe it!” she whispered, but she did not turn her head. Her eyes sought his no longer. They were fixed steadfastly on the road in front.

“You must believe it,” he declared, laughing. “I can assure you that I am strong enough to hold you, now that I have the right. If any troubles or worries come, they are mine to deal with! See, we will not mince words. If that little reptile dares to crawl near you, I’ll set my foot upon his neck. By God, I will!”

She took no notice of his speech, except to slowly shake her head. It seemed as though she had not heard him. By and bye he left off talking. There was nothing he could say to bring back the color to her cheeks, or the light to her eyes, or the confidence to her tone. Something had happened—he could not tell what—but for the moment she was gone from him. The little hands which his still clasped were as cold as ice. It seemed to him that they were unwilling prisoners. Once, when he would have passed his arm around her waist, she even shuddered and drew away.

The car rushed on its way, turned into the great avenue, and drew up in front of Beauleys. Lois stepped out quickly, and went on ahead. In the hall several people were standing, and amongst them Bertrand Saton!

Vandermere’s face was dark as a thundercloud when his eyes fell upon the young man—carefully, almost foppishly dressed, standing upon the hearthrug in front of the open fire. Rochester was there with Pauline, and Lady Mary was seated behind the tea-tray. There was a little chorus as the two entered. Lois went straight to Saton, who held out his hands.

“Dear Lois,” he said softly, “I could not keep away to-day. I have been waiting for you, waiting for nearly an hour.”

“I know,” she answered. “I came as soon as I knew.”