Cassandra's short upper lip curved with a touch of scorn. It touched her pride that insignificant Teresa Mallison should presume to lay down rules for her guidance. It had pleased her to admit the girl to a certain amount of intimacy, but always it had been she who had condescended, Teresa who gratefully received. Cassandra was not a snob, but she was an Earl's daughter, and the consciousness of her birth was very present at that moment. "It seems," she said coldly, "that we are in Teresa's hands! She has given you her orders, and you have obeyed." Then Peignton looked at her, and she quailed before the passion in his eyes. "Give me _your_ orders," he said thickly, "and she goes, everything goes! I'll throw over the whole thing to-night, work, honour, friends-- everything there is, if you will give me yourself--if you'll come to me to-night, and let me take you away--Oh, my Beautiful, if you only would..." "Dane! Dane!" cried Cassandra sharply, "_I want to_!" She covered her face with her hands, and he wrapped her close to his heart. "Am I wicked? Am I wicked? I've always called a woman wicked who felt like this, but it seems now as if it would be so right, so natural: so much more natural than saying good-bye! But I can't--I can't do it. I'm bound with chains. It's the boy's home..." They clung together in silence. On this point at least there was nothing more to be said, and each realised as much. The chains might tear Cassandra's heart, but they would not give way, for they were forged out of the strongest sentiment of the human heart. The mother in her would not stain her boy's home. In the midst of his misery, Peignton loved her the more for her loyalty. Presently she spoke again in a low, exhausted voice: "Dane--what shall you do?" "I? I don't know. Leave Chumley as soon as possible. Go somewhere else. It doesn't matter where. Nothing matters. But I must clear out of this." "Is it necessary? If we meet very seldom? Never, if you think it better, in private! Would it really be easier if you never saw me? I don't feel as if I can live if I lose you altogether. Even to see you driving past in the street--" Peignton shook his head. "It's impossible. The thing could not be worked. The Squire would ask me here. I could not always refuse. I couldn't stand it, Cassandra; it would be too much for flesh and blood. It must be all or nothing." "You won't go at once? I must see you again; I must! I must! There is so much to say. I'm going to do what is right, Dane. I'm strong enough for that, but I must have _something_ for myself! You will meet me again, just once, to--to say good-bye--"