‘By Jove,’ shouted Tom, ‘I’ll not be taken on behind! I’ll ride my own horse or I’ll not stir a step--and catch me ever coming out with her again,’ he cried with an oath which made the heart which was beating so wildly in Janet’s breast drop down, down to her shoes. But when she found herself in the dog-cart by Charlie Blackmore’s side, wrapped up warm, and flying like the wind, behind Madam Spanker who was so fresh, Janet’s sensations turned into a consciousness of _bien-être_ which was very novel and very sweet. She had been persuaded to take the cup of tea. She had even eaten a bit of scone with fresh butter and marmalade, which was very good. A warm shawl was wrapped round her shoulders; and the delicious sensation of repose and warmth over her tired limbs, while yet sweeping at so great a pace over the country, with the wind in her face and the long darkling roads flying past, was delightful to Janet. The sound of Tom’s horse’s hoofs galloping, now behind, now in advance, added to the sense of supreme comfort and pleasure. She had been so tired, and the prospect of riding back had been so terrible. She felt as if flying through the air, which caressed her cheek, as, warmly tucked in by Charlie Blackmore’s side, she was carried home. Charlie was very ‘kind’--almost unnecessarily kind. He spoke loud in her ear, with intonations at which Janet wondered vaguely, finding them very pleasant. He told her a great many things about himself, how he had never intended to stay at home ‘among the beasts’: how he had been a session at college and meant to go back again: how he had once hoped to be something very much better than a horse-couper like his father, and how to-day all his ambition had come back. Swept along so lightly, so smoothly, with such ease, with such warmth and comfort, almost leaning against Charlie Blackmore’s strong shoulder, with his voice in her ear, and the sweetness of the wind in her face, Janet felt herself held in a delightful trance almost like sleep, yet which was not sleep, or how could she have felt the pleasure that was in it? It was only when the drive was almost over, and the mare made a whirl into the avenue, scarcely to be held in till the gates were opened, and, flying after that momentary enforced pause like an arrow under the dark waving of the trees, that her heart suddenly sprang up with a sickening throb at the thought of what mother would say. Janet had been in a sort of paradise. She came down now in a moment to all the anguishes of earth. She broke in upon something Charlie Blackmore was saying with the utmost inattention and inconsequence. ‘Can you hear Tom?’ she said. ‘Oh, where is he? Tom, Tom!’ ‘He is just behint us; don’t be frightened. He is all safe,’ said Charlie, casting a glance behind.