“No, no, Richard,” he said, after a pull at the pot, “I am best away, sir, at such a crisis, though I thank you heartily for your kindness. I shall tramp on to Lewes and see more of these glorious fellows—the downs. I have money in my purse, and, egad, what irony, I won some of it from your august aunt at cards. I believe she let me win it, sir, to keep me in a good temper, and the cash will pay for the portrait I painted. I shall come back by this road, Richard, and if I slink in for a meal at Rodenham you must not be amazed.” “Come when you will, Dick,” said Jeffray, “the priory will be open to you when this quarrel is at end. Jilian has a kind heart; she will not grudge me a friend.” Wilson shook his head and smiled shrewdly. “I have no desire to make experiments, sir,” he said; “and if I turn in to see you, it will only be for a short day. If you have a priest’s hiding-hole at Rodenham, you might put it at my service for a night. Take my advice, Richard, and don’t fling my name in Miss Hardacre’s face. There are some things women like to leave in the lumber-room. Lud, what an infernal din those boors are making!” Jeffray said farewell to the painter with no little regret, for he was one of the few men he had met to whom he could confide his poetical enthusiasm. There was a goodly world of beauty behind Richard Wilson’s ugly face. Jeffray walked back to Rodenham with a grave sense of responsibility increasing upon him. The Lady Letitia had sent word that she would come down to sup with her nephew, and Richard dreaded not a little the ordeal that loomed across the night. No doubt his aunt had heard of Mr. Hardacre’s visit. Jeffray had need of some of the courage of a Perseus to face this acrimonious and awe-inspiring dame. The Lady Letitia’s attitude and expression may be imagined when Jeffray, looking pale but very composed, informed her that it would be necessary for her to leave Rodenham in her coach. The old lady expressed the most haughty astonishment, scanned her nephew as though he were an impudent urchin of ten, and began to insist that Wilson, the painter fellow, was a most unprincipled liar. Had he not occasioned all the disturbance at Hardacre by deceiving the dear old lady as to the nature of his past association with Miss Jilian? Was Richard Jeffray going to bundle his father’s sister out of his house as though she were no better than some unfortunate slut? Angels and martyrs, the Lady Letitia had no intention of stomaching such arbitrary treatment. She had pride, sir, and if her presence caused her nephew any inconvenience, she could take her departure without orders. Richard held his tongue and kept his temper throughout the dowager’s explosive harangue, sitting with pale face and compressed mouth, and drumming on the table with his fingers. “You will pardon me, madam,” he said, very politely, “but for the present peace of the neighborhood I conceive it expedient for you to leave Rodenham—for a time.”