'Clare--I shall see her again!' he muttered to himself; it was a great thought, a bright conviction, that to him she was no longer a dream but a reality; thus in his heart he felt 'that riot of hope, joy, and belief which is too tumultuous and impatient for happiness, but yet _is_ happy beyond all that the world holds.' Objectless till he saw her again, after Sir Carnaby and Lady Evelyn had left him for England, he lingered in Northern Germany; but Jerry Vane had accepted Lady Evelyn's written and actually reiterated invitation for Christmas with very mingled feelings indeed. Since the day he had left Carnaby Court so abruptly he had never exchanged a word, verbally or in writing, with Ida. In going there now he would do so with a deadened sense of sorrow, disappointment, and bitterness in his heart and the wretched doubt as to whether he was wise to throw himself into the lure--was it snare?--of her society again; even with the intention of showing, as he thought, poor goose, how bravely he could resist it, and seek to convince her that he had effaced the past and forgotten to view her amid the halo in which he had once enshrined her. Were they, then, to meet in a state of antagonism? Trevor Chute's brave rescue of Sir Carnaby Collingwood had, as a story, preceded his return to town, with many exaggerations; the clubs rang with it, and it actually stirred the blood in what 'Ouida' calls 'the languid, _nil admirari_, egotistic, listless pulses of high-bred society.' But time was creeping on now, and the Christmas of the year drew near at hand. CHAPTER XX. CARNABY COURT. The baronet's country seat was popular among his 'set,' and in the county generally. The ladies were attractive, Sir Carnaby was fond of society, and was undeniably hospitable: the preserves were good, the corn-fed pheasants were among the best in the land, and partridges abounded in the coverts and thickets; the stud and cellar were good, and his French cook was a genius. The oak-studded chase, where the deer lay deep amid the fern, showed trees that were of vast antiquity--remnants, perhaps, of the days when Bucks was all a forest, as old historians tell us.