‘No; I cannot be content. I made up my mind that Gerald was to be as dear to you as a brother—as dear as the brother you lost might have been, had God spared him and made him all we could wish. And now you set up some barrier of false pride against him.’ ‘I don’t know about false pride. I can hardly be very fond of a man who ridicules me, and treats me like a child, or a plaything. Affection will scarcely thrive in an atmosphere of contempt.’ ‘Contempt! Why, Daphne, what can have put such an idea into your head? Gerald likes and admires you. If you knew how he praises your beauty, your fascinating ways! You would not have him praise you to your face, would you? My pet, I should be sorry to see you spoiled by adulation.’ ‘Do you suppose I want praise or flattery?’ cried Daphne angrily. ‘I want to be respected. I want to be treated like a woman, not a child. I——Forgive me, Lina dearest. I daresay I am disagreeable and ill-tempered.’ ‘Only believe the truth, dear. Gerald has no thought of you that is not tender and flattering. If he teases you a little now and then it is only as a brother might tease you. He wishes you to think of him in every way as a brother. It always wounds me when you call him Mr. Goring.’ ‘I shall never call him anything else,’ said Daphne sullenly. ‘And if you do not marry as soon as I do——’ ‘I shall never marry——’ ‘Dearest, forgive me for not believing that. If you are not married next year you will have a second home at the Abbey. Gerald and I have chosen the rooms we intend for you; the dearest little boudoir over the porch, with an oriel window, just such a room as will delight you.’ ‘You are all that is good: but I don’t suppose I shall be able often to take advantage of your kindness. When you are married it will be my duty to dance attendance upon papa, and to try and make him like me. I don’t suppose I shall ever succeed but I mean to make the effort, however unpleasant it may be to both of us.’ ‘My sweet one, you are sure to win his love. Who could help loving you?’ ‘My father has helped it all this time,’ answered Daphne, still moody and with downcast eyes. * * * * * Edgar and his mother stayed away till the third week in September. When they came back to Hawksyard cub-hunting was in full swing, and Mr. Turchill rose at five o’clock three mornings a week to ride to the kennels. He rode with two sets of hounds, making nothing of distance. He bought himself a fifth hunter—having four good ones already—which was naturally supposed to overtop all the rest in strength, pace, and beauty. His mother began to fear that the stables would be her son’s ruin. ‘Three thousand a-year was considered a large income when your father and I were married,’ she said; ‘but it is a mere pittance now for a country gentleman in your position. We ought to be careful, Edgar.’ ‘Who said we were going to be careless, mother mine? I am sure you are a model among housewives,’ said Edgar lightly.