"Hubert, go away at once!" said Laura's shaking but imperious voice. "I prefer that Mr. Helbeck should help me." She had risen and was clinging to the rail of the dog-cart, while her face drooped so that Helbeck could not see it. Mason stepped back with another oath, caught his foot in the reins, which he had carelessly left hanging, and fell on his knees on the gravel. "No matter," said Helbeck, seeing that Laura paused in terror. "Give me your hand, Miss Fountain." She slipped on the step in the darkness, and Helbeck caught her and set her on her feet. "Go in, please. I will look after him." She ran up the steps, then turned to look. Mason, still swearing and muttering, had some difficulty in getting up. Helbeck stood by till he had risen and disentangled the reins. "If you don't drive carefully down the park in the fog you'll come to harm," he said, shortly, as Mason mounted to his seat. "That's none of your business," said Mason sulkily. "I brought my cousin all right--I suppose I can take myself. Now, come up, will you!" He struck the pony savagely on the back with the reins. The tired animal started forward; the cart swayed again from side to side. Helbeck held his breath as it passed the gate-posts; but it shaved through, and soon nothing but the gallop of retreating hoofs could be heard through the night. He mounted the steps, and shut and barred the outer door. When he entered the hall, Laura was sitting by the oak table, one hand supporting and hiding her face, the other hanging listlessly beside her. She struggled to her feet as he came in. The hood of her blue cloak had fallen backwards, and her hair was in confusion round her face and neck. Her cheeks were very white, and there were tears in her eyes. She had never seemed to him so small, so childish, or so lovely. He took no notice of her agitation or of her efforts to speak. He went to a tray of wine and biscuits that had been left by his orders on a side-table, and poured out some wine. "No, I don't want it," she said, waving it away. "I don't know what to say----" "You would do best to take it," he said, interrupting her. His quiet insistence overcame her, and she drank it. It gave her back her voice and a little colour. She bit her lip, and looked after Helbeck as he walked away to the farther end of the hall to light a candle for her. "Mr. Helbeck," she began as he came near. Then she gathered force. "You must--you ought to let me apologise." "For what? I am afraid you had a disagreeable and dangerous drive home. Would you like me to wake one of the servants--Ellen, perhaps--and tell her to come to you?" "Oh! you won't let me say what I ought to say," she exclaimed in despair. "That my cousin should have behaved like this--should have insulted you----"