Already implicated in deception, the reasons for which he knew not, the direction of which he only suspected--bound as he was to secrecy by promises the most sacred, to his stern old kinsman and benefactor, he dared not divulge the truth. Somehow the blow meditated, he was confident, against this Baronet, was to redound to _his_ advantage. What a villain should he appear when all was over! Sir Jekyl his host, too, frank and hospitable--how could he have earned the misfortune, be it great or small, that threatened? And the image of Beatrix--like an angel--stood between her father and the unmasked villain, Guy, who had entered the house in a borrowed shape, ate and drank and slept, talked and smiled, and, he now feared, _loved_, and in the end--struck! When Mr. Guy Strangways came down next morning he looked very pale. His breakfast was a sham. He talked hardly at all, and smiled but briefly and seldom. M. Varbarriere, on the contrary, was more than usually animated, and talked in his peculiar vein rather more than was his wont; and after breakfast, Sir Jekyl placed his hand kindly on Guy Strangways' arm as he looked dismally from the window. The young man almost started at the kindly pressure. "Very glad to hear that Monsieur Varbarriere has changed his mind," said Sir Jekyl, with a smile. What change was this? thought Guy, whose thoughts were about other plans of his uncle's, and he looked with a strange surprise in Sir Jekyl's face. "I mean his ill-natured idea of going so soon. I'm so glad. You know you have seen nothing yet, and we are going to kill a buck to-day, so you had better postpone the moor to-morrow, and if you like to take your rod in the afternoon, you will find--Barron tells me--some very fine trout, about half a mile lower down the stream than you fished yesterday--a little below the bridge." Guy thanked him, I fancy, rather oddly. He heard him in fact as if it was an effort to follow his meaning, and he really did feel relieved when his good-natured host was called away, the next moment, to settle a disputed question between the two sportsmen, Linnett and Doocey. "How is grandmamma this morning?" inquired Sir Jekyl of Beatrix, before she left the room. "Better, I think. She says she will take a little turn up and down the broad walk, by-and-by, and I am to go with her." "Very pleasant for you, Trixie," said her papa, with one of his chuckles. "So you can't go with your ladies to Lonsted to-day?" "No--it can't be helped; but I'm glad poor granny can take her little walk." "Not a bit of you, Trixie." "Yes, _indeed_, I am. Poor old granny!" The incredulous Baronet tapped her cheek with his finger, as he chuckled again roguishly, and with a smile and a shake of his head, their little talk ended. In the hall he found Guy Strangways in his angling garb, about to start on a solitary excursion. He preferred it. He was very much obliged. He did not so much care for the chase, and liked walking even better than riding.