Daphne, as soon as he was gone, allowed herself the natural attitude that fitted her thoughts. She was furiously in love and torn with jealousy; and that love and jealousy could smart so, and cling so, was a strange revelation to one accustomed to make a world entirely to her liking. Her dark eyes were hollow, her small mouth had lost its colour, and she showed that touch of something wasting and withering that Theocritan shepherds knew in old Sicilian days. It was as though she had defied a god--and the god had avenged himself. Suddenly he appeared--the teasing divinity--in human shape. There was a rustling among the brushwood fringing the river. Roger Barnes emerged and made his way up towards her. "I've been stalking you all this time," he said, breathless, as he reached her, "and now at last--I've caught you!" Daphne rose furiously. "What right have you to stalk me, as you call it--to follow me--to speak to me even? I wish to avoid you--and I have shown it!" Roger looked at her. He had thrown down his hat, and she saw him against the background of sunny wood, as the magnificent embodiment of its youth and force. "And why have you shown it?" There was a warning tremor of excitement in his voice. "What have I done? I haven't deserved it! You treat me like--like a friend!--and then you drop me like a hot coal. You've been awfully unkind to me!" "I won't discuss it with you," she cried passionately. "You are in my way, Mr. Barnes. Let me go back to the others!" And stretching out a small hand, she tried to put him aside. Roger hesitated, but only for a moment. He caught the hand, he gathered its owner into a pair of strong arms, and bending over her, he kissed her. Daphne, suffocated with anger and emotion, broke from him--tottering. Then sinking on the ground beneath a tree, she burst into sobbing. Roger, scarlet, with sparkling eyes, dropped on one knee beside her. [Illustration: "He caught the hand, he gathered its owner into a pair of strong arms, and bending over her, he kissed her"] "Daphne, I'm a ruffian! forgive me! you must, Daphne! Look here, I want you to marry me. I've nothing to offer you, of course; I'm a poor man, and you've all this horrible money! But I--I love you!--and I'll make you a good husband, Daphne, that I'll swear. If you'll take me, you shall never be sorry for it." He looked at her again, sorely embarrassed, hating himself, yet inwardly sure of her. Her small frame shook with weeping. And presently she turned from him and said in a fierce voice: "Go and tell all that to Elsie Maddison!" Infinitely relieved, Roger gave a quick, excited laugh. "She'd soon send me about my business! I should be a day too late for the fair, in _that_ quarter. What do you think she and I have been talking about all this time, Daphne?" "I don't care," said Daphne hastily, with face still averted.