I pulled the Black Prince on his haunches, and brought him round to her side. "Are you not going our way? It is a long way round by the road unless you want to call in the village!" I was too surprised to think of any excuse, so I turned my horse's head. "Yes, I suppose the park's the shorter way. I ought to have remembered it for the Black Prince's sake," I remarked. "I'm afraid he's rather done up." "I thought that you two had met," she said, turning to her companion. "Lord Annerley, you know Mr. Arbuthnot, do you not?" He turned stiffly round towards me, with an angry flush on his cheek. "Oh--ah--yes. How d'ye do, Arbuthnot?" I sat bolt upright in my saddle, and looked steadily at Lord Annerley without returning his insolent greeting. "My name is Arbuthnot, certainly," I said, coldly, "but your lordship will pardon my observing that I am not accustomed to hear it taken such liberties with." I raised my hat to Miss Devereux, and digging spurs into Black Prince's side rode on ahead. But I had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile before I heard a single horse's hoofs close behind, and looking round saw Maud riding up to me alone. I reined in at once and waited for her. She joined me without a word, and we walked our horses side by side in silence. There was a change in her face which puzzled me; a faint tinge of pink was colouring her cheeks, and a peculiar smile, half of amusement, half of satisfaction, parted slightly her lips. Her eyes she kept averted from me. "Where is Lord Annerley?" I asked, suddenly. "Gone home," she answered, demurely. "I'm afraid I've spoilt your ride," I said. "I'm sorry." "Not at all," she answered, still without looking at me. "You spoilt his, I think." I answered nothing. I dared not. I felt that there was safety for me only in silence. And so we rode on, our horses' feet sinking silently into the short, green turf as we cantered slowly through the park. From behind the dark plantations on our right the moon had risen into a clear sky, and every now and then the Black Prince started and shied slightly at the grotesque shadows cast by the giant oak-trees under which we rode. Where they were thickest a few bats flew out and wheeled for a minute or two round our heads before disappearing in the opposite thickets. "Are you afraid to talk to me, Mr. Arbuthnot, or can't you think of anything to say?" Maud suddenly asked. The words which I intended to speak died away on my lips. A subtle power seemed to be struggling with my will and intoxicating my senses. I answered blindly-- "I am afraid to talk to you, Miss Devereux, because I have too much to say." She turned round and looked at me, her deep blue eyes full of a half-inviting, half-mocking light which nearly drove me mad. She, at any rate, was quite at her case. "Are you going to try and flirt with me, Mr. Arbuthnot?" she asked, lightly. "I am not Lady Olive."