Having despatched this, I ordered Black Prince, and rode away to a distant part of the estate to superintend the felling of some timber. As usual, when going any distance, I took some lunch in my pocket, and ate it on a stile whilst the men knocked off for dinner. Just as I had lit my pipe and was preparing to start work again--for I was not afraid of using my hands, and used to take a pleasure in getting through as much as any of the men--I heard the sound of horses' hoofs on the smooth, wide, velvet sward, and glancing up quickly saw that the whole party from the Court were close upon me, all except Maud and the elders. I drew back indifferently to let them pass, and bowed to Lady Olive, who was riding by the side of Francis Devereux. She started when she saw me, and, detaching herself from the rest of the party, rode over to me. "Fancy coming upon you, Mr. Arbuthnot, and hard at work too! What are you doing?" "Cutting down trees, Lady Olive." "Well, you look in a nice mess," she declared, frankly. "What do you want to work yourself for? It's a shame that you should." I laughed at her indignation, thinking only that her flushed cheeks made her look uncommonly pretty. "I like working," I answered. "What would you have me do? Shack about with my hands in my pockets all day?" "I don't know," she said, hotly. "But when I think of that idle, lazy young Francis dawdling his life away, doing nothing except ape a man about town, and then think of you working hard every day, and remember who you are, it makes me feel angry. Do you know, I longed just now to push him out of his saddle. It wouldn't take much, I don't think." I laughed outright, but Lady Olive remained serious enough. "Well, perhaps you'll be pleased to hear that I am going to give up working--here, at any rate," I said. "Of course I can't stop now." She looked steadily between her horse's ears, growing a shade paler, and I leaned against the stump of an oak-tree wondering how a riding-habit could have been made to fit so well, and admiring her dainty little figure. "When are you going?" she asked, suddenly. I shrugged my shoulders. "As soon as Sir Francis will let me. I have 'given warning.'" She looked down at me, and spoke a little hurriedly, but with a frank, sincere look in her flushed face. "Mr. Arbuthnot--I suppose I must call you Mr. Arbuthnot--I think yours is the saddest story I have ever heard. I want you to let me tell you that I feel for you, as much as any one possibly could do, and I think you are behaving splendidly, just as I would have my own brother behave if he were in the same position." I felt more moved even than I should have cared to own, for I was just in that mood when kind words are sweet, and I had always liked Lady Olive. "You are very good," I said, warmly. "Believe me, it is a great pleasure to me to hear you say this." "Have you any idea yet where you are going?" she asked, "or what you are going to do?" I shook my head.