“I’ve been at the barn clearing up, putting things straight, and seeing that the lights were put out,” answered Chris, looking down rather guiltily. “Didn’t they send someone to help you?” inquired Mr. Bradfield, sharply. “Harriet said she put out the lights.” “So she did.” “But that’s a quarter of an hour ago. What have you been doing with yourself since? You have not been staying at the barn in the dark--by _yourself_?” There flashed quickly through the mind of Chris a kaleidoscopic view of the question whether or not she should tell Mr. Bradfield with whom she had been. In that brief moment of hesitation she saw the matter in all its bearings, and repugnant as the idea of concealment was to her, she decided, for Mr. Richard’s sake, not to betray the fact that she had been with him. She answered, therefore: “No, I was not alone,” and as she said this she unceremoniously ran away up the stairs, with the hurried excuse that she should be late for dinner. “Are you letting that young fool of a Shute boy worry you to death?” Mr. Bradfield called out after her, in displeased tones. “Oh, he doesn’t worry me,” replied Chris, disingenuously as she disappeared into the corridor. Chris was angry and puzzled with herself. It was quite right and proper that she should feel sorry for Mr. Richard, seeing, as she believed, that he was not being quite fairly treated by his guardian. But why should she feel more than this for him? Why should she, Chris Abercarne, who had been so cold to all men, and so proud of her coldness, feel in this poor fellow an interest more tender than any she had felt before for any man--an interest so strong, that she was ashamed of it, and could not think of it without feeling her cheeks flush, and her heart beat faster? She hurried to her dressing-room and changed her gown for dinner, delighted to find that her mother had already dressed and gone downstairs. For she wanted to have time to exchange a few words before dinner with Stelfox. This man, she felt sure, knew more about his patient’s case than he chose to admit. It was he who had given Mr. Richard his liberty on that day; he whose influence over the young man was strong enough to induce the poor prisoner to return to his prison without a protest. Chris, who knew that this was about the time when Stelfox would be coming out from the east wing with a tray to fetch Mr. Richard’s dinner, waited in one of the alcoves in the long corridor, and at the first sound of the key turning in the lock of the shut-up apartments, she ran to meet him.