Janet stood in the hall when she had managed to twist out of her mother’s hold. Her eyes had a wild sparkle in them, dazzled from the night; her hair was hanging dank about her shoulders; her hat tied on with Mr. Blackmore’s handkerchief. She looked dazed, speechless, guilty, with fear in her face and in her soul. She looked as if she might be--have had the habit of being--struck and beaten, standing trembling before her mother, who had never harmed a fly in all her gentle life. ‘Mother, we went too far; and then the--woman came out--the--the lady, and said I was too tired. He was to drive me home.’ ‘Well! and that was all? God be thanked there has been no accident! But where is Tom?’ ‘Mr. Tom is just coming up the avenue, my lady,’ said one of the men. ‘Then all is right, and there was really nothing to be afraid of,’ said Lady Car, with an agitated laugh. Was Janet to be let off so easily? She stood watching her mother with uneasy alarm, while all attention was diverted to Tom, who jumped off his horse in a similar pale suspicion and fear, but with brows more lowering and eyes half shadowed by the eyelids. Tom had made up his mind as he came along what he was to do. He did not wait for the outburst of scolding which he expected. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he said, with a gleam of his shadowed eyes to where Beaufort was coming in behind him. ‘She had made up her mind she would see the mare, and I had to take her. I knew it was too far.’ Janet stood aghast with her mouth open taking in every word. A cry of protest rose up in her breast, which she had just comprehension enough to stifle. ‘Never mind just now, my boy,’ said Beaufort; ‘all’s well that ends well: but you have given your mother a great fright. You can tell me after how it was.’ ‘I’d better tell you at once,’ Tom repeated. ‘She had set her heart on seeing the mare. There was no harm, I suppose, in telling her about the mare. And I thought she was more game than she is. That’s all about it. I thought we could have gone into the stables without seeing--the people you made me promise about, Beau. But I couldn’t help it when I saw how tired she was. And Charlie drove her home--that’s all.’ The cry of protest in Janet’s throat did not get utterance, but it produced a gasp of horror and astonishment as she stood staring in her mother’s face. She could not look at Tom. Lady Car was looking at him unsuspectingly with her faint smile--that smile which Janet felt meant something more than anyone thought. And there was no more said. CHAPTER XII