He was going one bright May morning with some choice flowers to the Dower House, and when he came to the field he saw a strange man sitting where he could command a full view of the entrance. The man raised his head as Kenelm Eyrle passed him; he gave one keen glance into the handsome, patrician face, then turned aside. Mr. Eyrle thought nothing of it; any casual stranger might have been sitting there; he would never have remembered the occurrence, but when he came somewhat quickly from the house he saw the same man hurrying quickly away. And that happened not once, but several times; it was not always the same man, but, strange to say, whenever he went to the Dower House there was always one of these suspicious strangers about. Once when he was walking by Mrs. Payton’s side in the pretty rose garden, he felt sure that among the trees in the shrubbery he saw a dark face peering. He gave a little cry, jumped over the hedge and was just in time to see a man hastening away through the woods. He would have followed, but a low cry from Mrs. Payton called him back. In one moment he was by her side. “What is it?” she asked. “What made you run away so?” “I saw some one watching us from behind those trees,” he replied. “Watching us,” she repeated, and then, to his surprise, he saw her face grow deadly pale, and a light not pleasant to see flashed from her dark eyes. “Watching us?” she repeated. “Oh, my God! has my foe followed me even here? Has my enemy found me out? I thought no one knew.” She had clasped her hands and stood in the midst of the garden path, like one who is despairing and distraught. Her wild appearance startled him. “You must go,” she cried, “and you must never come here again! I did wrong to let you come; but you were kind, you spoke kindly to me, you looked kindly at me, and I forgot that I am doomed to be hunted even to my death. You must go, and leave me, Mr. Eyrle, never to return.” “Nay,” he said, “calm yourself. I shall not leave you. I do not understand, but most certainly I shall not go away. I will tell you, Mrs. Payton, what I will do: follow that man, whoever he was, and thrash him within an inch of his life. I am quite willing to do that, but nothing else.” She wrung her hands, with a cry of pain he never forgot. “You do not understand,” she repeated, “and I forgot. I have only remembered that you were kind to me, and it was a pleasure to see you. My doom is on me, Mr. Eyrle, and you cannot save me but by going away and never coming near me again.” “I should think myself unworthy of the name of man to leave any woman in such distress,” he said. “I refuse to leave you--I refuse to go away, unless, indeed, it be your own personal wish.” “No, it is not that,” she replied. “I should have been more prudent, but I did not think; I believed myself so safe here.” “You are safe,” he repeated, indignantly.