"What? Oh, you dear old goose!" she laughed, blushing at the delicate compliment, her dark eyes flashing at him a bright glance of affection. "Now go and find Margaret--there she is, just coming off the ice--and then we'll go." "Well, Roland, my boy, this sort of thing makes a man feel young again," said the rector, as they began to step cut briskly on their homeward way. The sun had gone down, and the bare trees stood against the cloudless sky in delicate tracery, as in a steel engraving. The dead leaves crackled underfoot, and behind them the ring of the skates on the ice, and the voices and laughter of the skaters grew fainter and fainter. "I suppose it does," answered the other shortly, with a glance around as if to make sure that no one was within earshot. Then after a pause-- "Look. From where we now stand, it will take us the best part of an hour to walk home--I can call it home now--and the Hall is nearly in the centre of the estate. Well, all this I gave up of my own free will-- flung it away with both hands. For what? For love. But even that which I had bought at the price of my birthright, was snatched from me not many hours after its purchase, for the very day after I had done this I learned that I was a ruined man." "My dear boy, I can never blame myself enough for my short-sightedness in that wretched business," cried the old man in a distressed voice, letting his hand fall affectionately on the other's shoulder. "There is no question of blame in the matter," went on Roland, speaking quickly and decisively. "And now, do you ever regret that things turned out as they did? Have you ever had during this year and a half which has passed since you gave Olive to me--any reason for misgivings as to her future?" "Never, Roland--never! Not for a moment! You have been as a dear son to me, and my other children look upon you as a brother, indeed." Again there was a pause. The rector, understanding well that these questions were leading to something, refrained from interposing. "Well--now I ask--could anything that might happen--that might come to light, rather--cause you to entertain such misgivings now?" It was the rector's turn to hesitate. Whither was the conversation drifting? His mind reverted to the rumours current in Wandsborough shortly after Roland's disappearance, and his brow slightly clouded. Before he could reply Roland struck in. "I know what you are thinking of. I solemnly assure you again, that those rumours were absolutely false. Whatever might happen would affect myself alone. On Olive's account you need feel no anxiety whatever." "That is all I was hesitating about, Roland. And now, my dear boy, if you feel that you can give me your confidence, it may be that you will have no cause to regret it."