Perceiving this, Joan went suddenly white; and as he went on, she presently halted, and turned to look after him. Now, it happened that Tregenna, although he had made up his mind that he would not be guilty of such a weakness, did in his turn stop and give a hasty glance back at her. Joan, seeing that he instantly went on again, could bear it no longer; he should not go like that, without knowing how little she cared. So she hastily bade her companion walk on, saying that she would overtake her shortly; and then she called, in a haughty and distant tone— “Mr. Tregenna!” And of course he had not gone far enough not to hear her. He turned, however, in the most leisurely way possible, and walked back with a very lofty air of doing something he was much disinclined to do. “Madam,” said he, when he had come quite near, “you called to me, I believe.” “I did, sir,” said Joan, in a tone as lofty as his own. “I did but wish to ask you—whether the stage-wagon has passed this way.” “I have not seen it, madam,” replied he, more superbly than ever. “I thank you, sir.” She dropped him a stately, dignified curtsey, to which he responded with a profound bow. Then he turned again and resumed his walk. This was more than Joan could bear. “How can you, Harry?” burst from her lips. “Nay, ’tis I should ask that!” retorted Tregenna, who was back again by her side in a moment. “’Tis I should want to know how a woman can treat her lover as you have treated me this last five days!” “They told me—they told me——” stammered Joan, who was now in tears. He interrupted her quickly. “Nay, then, if you are content to quarrel with me on account of what others tell you, without a word to me, ’tis time we should bid each other farewell, madam!” “Oh, Harry, you are too hard, too cruel! And when ’tis your fault, all your fault! For Tom saw you with—with—her in your arms! You kissed her, once, twice, thri-i-i-ce! And—and when you told me you cared not for her! Nay, sir!” She drew herself erect, and looked at him with a challenge in her eyes. “Deny it if you can. You know you dare not, you cannot!” “Most certainly I do not deny that I held Ann Price in my arms, nor that I did kiss her, as you say. And, if you hold that I did wrongly in suffering the caprice of a dying woman, why, madam, I must tell you that ’tis you that err, not I.” “But—but—but she had sworn you should kiss her!” whimpered Joan, falteringly. “Gardener Tom told me so.” “Madam, could I help that? She was sick to death, as you know. Whether ’twas for affection, which I doubt, or for spite, or for some other motive, I could do naught but that which I did. I will neither deny the action, nor excuse myself for it: since there was naught to be done but humor her.”