‘No, you have nothing to thank me for,’ said Michael drily, as he pulled the bell. ‘But since you are pleased to feel grateful to me for something or other, prove it by not thinking or fretting too much about—what we were speaking of,’ and he looked meaningly at her. He could not speak so indifferently as he would have wished to. He knew, with unerring certainty, that she had not a careless nature, but a deep one—not a nature that lives on the surface. He had pained her; that thought, though unreasonable, was persistently present in his mind. She smiled rather wanly in answer to his exhortation. ‘I will do what I can,’ she said. ‘I wish you had never asked _me_ that question,’ said Michael, and his voice betrayed his disturbance. ‘Let me repeat your own advice—do not think too much about it,’ said she, turning as the door was opened. Barlow stood there uttering an exclamation of joy. Eleanor held out her hand to Michael, and said in a very distinct voice— ‘I thank you for your escort. And you will do me the favour to call to-morrow afternoon?’ ‘I shall do so,’ said he, and stood with his hat in his hand till the door was closed behind her. Then he turned, to find William in possession of his mistress’s horse, and inquiring anxiously if she was likely to be any the worse. ‘I hope not,’ said Michael, getting on to his own horse again. ‘But listen to me, my lad. When Miss Askam thinks of riding long distances ‘cross country, and you don’t know the way, another time let me advise you to tell her so, and not get into such a mess again.’ He rode away, leaving William speechless between concern at what had happened and desperate puzzlement as to how he was possibly to refuse to obey his mistress’s orders. ‘I isn’t here to tell her what she ought to do,’ reflected the youth. ‘I’se here to do what she tells me. How be I to do both? Perhaps you could’—with a nod after the vanishing figure,—‘but I’se different from you.’ CHAPTER XX HOW A THORN WAS PLANTED ‘Look here, Michael, if you ever mean to sit still again, I should be awfully glad if you would begin to do it now, if it’s quite the same to you. A man whirring about the room, and crumpling up newspapers without ever reading them is not the best sort of help in working out calculations.’ ‘I’m sure I beg your pardon. I was really lost in thought.’ ‘Humph! Pretty noisy kind of thoughts,’ said Roger, bending again over the sheet which had occupied him. There was perfect silence now for a few moments (the scene was, of course, the library at the Red Gables), too perfect a silence to last very long. Then Michael suddenly burst out in his turn— ‘Are you obliged to finish those wretched calculations to-night? Because, if not, I should like to speak to you.’ Roger threw his pen down. ‘Thankful for an excuse to let them alone,’ said he. ‘What’s up?’ ‘I told you how I came to meet Miss Askam this afternoon.’ ‘You did.’