She hobbled away into the wood and commenced picking up sticks. I would have followed her, but she held out her hand to prevent me, and would not answer me when I spoke. So I mounted Black Prince and galloped away homewards. When I entered Marian's room I saw that she had a visitor. Sir Francis Devereux was leaning back in my easy chair, laughing at one of my sister's quaint speeches, and she was handing him a cup of tea. CHAPTER XXVII SIR FRANCIS DEVEREUX'S APPEAL Of all the contingencies which had occurred to me, this was one which I had not considered, for only once since I had been its occupant had Sir Francis called at the cottage. But his greeting was even a greater surprise to me. "Hugh, my boy," he said, rising and holding out his hand, "I have come down to have a chat with you, and Miss Marian has been giving me some tea." Something in his look, his accent, and his words warned me that the battle of last night would have to be fought over again. But for a while he talked of nothing, save of last night's strange adventure and minor matters connected with the estate, of the turnip prospects, and the timber felling, until Marian left us to change her frock. Then, after opening the door for her with his usual stately courtesy, he returned to the hearthrug, and with the firelight playing round his tall, slim figure, and with a soft, almost appealing light relaxing the hard lines in his face, he commenced speaking. "Hugh," he said, slowly, "they call me a proud man, but I have come here to beg a great boon from you. Nay, let me go on," for I would have interrupted him. "Let me say outright what I have come to say," he continued, stretching out his hands as though to silence me. "I want to tell you a little of my history. "You know, perhaps, that I was married twice. To you I do not mind admitting that my last marriage was an unfortunate one. Your grandmother was the only woman I ever loved, and it was her son who took her place in my heart--not Rupert's mother, much less Rupert himself. Perhaps I am much to blame, but none the less it is a fact that the death of my second wife gave me little sorrow, and I have never been able to feel towards Rupert as a father should feel towards his son. And since that day when I knew that it was his evidence (although he was right to give it) which had brought irretrievable disgrace upon the name of Devereux, I have never been able--I say it to my shame--I have never been able to bear the sight of him." Sir Francis walked restlessly to the other end of the room, and then, returning, took up his old position.