Probably Miss Hardacre was puzzled by her betrothed’s melancholy as they walked on the terrace that day with Jilian’s two spaniels playing about her feet. The lady’s quick wits were soon at work to discover the meaning of her dear Richard’s moodiness. Had she been oversharp with him concerning poor Mary Sugg? Jeffray smiled at her with genuine candor, and confessed that the parson’s daughter had nothing to do with his depression. He was vexed with a headache; so much Miss Hardacre could cajole from him, and it was enough to enable her to be sympathetic. “La, Richard,” she confessed, regarding him very gravely, “you look quite feverish and ill. Would you like to lie down in the house? Quiet, Tib! Down Tobe! your master has a headache. Drat the dogs; how noisy they are, to be sure!” Miss Hardacre flicked her handkerchief at the spaniels, who, imagining that the lady was challenging them to a game, yapped and growled with greater vigor. “Deuce take the dogs!” Richard had his hand to his head. “Don’t vex yourself, Jilian,” he said, “it is nothing, I thank you.” “You look very white, Richard.” “It is the megrims—perhaps—” Some sudden suspicion seemed to seize upon Miss Hardacre’s heart. She looked at her betrothed keenly, with an anxious hardening of her eyes and mouth. “Richard?” “Yes, dear—” “Have you been in Rodenham village?” Jeffray stared at her questioningly. “Not for a week,” he said. “Supposing it should be—Oh—horrible! My head is in a whirl.” Jeffray flushed up as though Jilian had suddenly discovered all that was in his heart. “I do not understand you, Jilian,” he said. Miss Hardacre had drawn a little apart from Jeffray, and was waving her scented handkerchief under her nose. “Supposing you are sickening for the small-pox, Richard,” she said. “Jilian!” “You look very feverish. No, please do not come too near me.” “Am I so terrible to look at?” “Oh, Richard, I am sure I am about to faint.” Jeffray had grown pale of a sudden. Was there anything prophetic in Miss Hardacre’s words, or was it his own fancy that made him feel chilly about the heart? He drew away from his betrothed, put his hand to his forehead, and felt that it was hot and moist. He glanced at Jilian, who was walking unsteadily with her eyes half closed, the spaniels still yapping at her heels. “Certainly I feel feverish,” he confessed; “shall I give you my arm, Jilian? No. Perhaps I had better keep away from you.” Miss Hardacre’s face had gone an ashy yellow behind the blushes that still bloomed upon her cheeks. “Richard,” she said, “go home at once and send for Surgeon Stott, from Rookhurst. It is not safe for you to remain near me.” Jeffray was gazing at her searchingly, wondering how much she loved him since her first thoughts seemed for herself. “I think you are right,” he said, slowly.