"Pardon me, Miss Iden," he said, as she hastily descended. "Really I should have liked you to have seen the house--will you sit down a moment? Forgive me if I said or did----. No, do stay--please--" as she made straight for the hall. "I am so sorry--really sorry--unintentional"--in fact he had done nothing, and yet he was penitent. But she would not listen, she hurried on along the path, she began to run, or nearly, as he kept up with her, still begging her to pause; Amaryllis ran at last outright. "At least let me see you through the fair--rough people. Let me open the door----" The iron-studded door in the wall shut with a spring lock, and for a moment she could not unfasten it; she tore at it and grazed her hand, the blood started. "Good Heavens!" cried Raleigh, now thoroughly upset. "Let me bind it up," taking out his handkerchief. "I would not have had this happen for money"--short for any amount of money. "Let me----" "Do please leave me," cried Amaryllis, panting, not with the run, which was nothing to her, but pent-up indignation, and still trying to open the lock. Raleigh pressed the lock and the door swung open--he could easily have detained her there, but he did not. "One moment, pray--Miss Iden." She was gone down the passage between the Abbey church and the wall; he followed, she darted out into the crowd of the fair. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVIII. WHEN he stopped and turned, angry beyond measure, vexation biting deep lines like aquafortis on his broad, good-natured face. "That I should have been such a fool--an infernal blockheaded fool--" shutting the iron-studded door with a kick and a clang--"muddle-headed fool--I'll never touch a drop of whiskey again--and that jackass, Fred--why, she's--" a lady, he would have said, but did not dare admit to himself now that he had thought to ask her in to "wake us up." "But what did I do? Can't think what annoyed her. Must have been something between her and that tedious old Iden. Quite sure I didn't do or say----" but still he could not quiet his conscience, for if he had not by deed or word, he knew he had in thought. He had sent for her as he might have done for any of the vulgar wenches in the fair to amuse an idle hour, and he was ashamed of himself. In truth, Raleigh had never seen a woman like Amaryllis Iden. Her features were not beautiful, as general ideas go, nor had her form the grace of full increase; indeed words, and even a portrait by a master-hand, would have failed to carry the impression her nature had made upon him. It is not the particular cast of features that makes a man great, and gives him a pre-eminence among his fellows. It is the character--the mind. A great genius commands attention at once by his presence, and so a woman may equally impress by the power of her nature. Her moral strength asserts itself in subtle ways.