"Burns' substitute comes to-morrow," he said carelessly. Her face changed very slightly, but sufficiently to catch his quick eye. "And as soon as I have discussed things with him, I have promised to carry my old aunt off to warmer climes. I shan't be back here till August." No answer. A sudden blast of wind swept along the road, and she instinctively laid hold of the shaft of the gig for support. Dudley held out his hand. "It is a high step," he said, "but I think you can manage it." Mona took his hand almost unconsciously, tried to say something flippant, failed utterly, and took her seat in the gig without a word. "Am I drugged?" she thought, "or am I going mad?" Never in all her life had she so utterly failed in _savoir-faire_. She felt vaguely how indignant she would be next day at her own weakness and want of pride; but at the moment she only knew that it was good to be there with Dr Dudley. He arranged the rug over her knees, and took the reins. "Is this better than walking?" he asked in a low voice, stooping down to catch her answer. Only for a moment she tried to resist the influence that was creeping over her. "Yes," she said simply. "Are you glad you came?" And this time she did not try at all. "Yes." "That's good!" The reins fell loosely on the mare's back. "Peggy's tired," he said. "Don't hurry, old girl. Take your time." Mona shivered nervously. "You are cold," he said, taking a plaid from the back of the seat. "Will you put this round you?" "No, thank you; I am not really cold, and I have no hands. I should be blown away altogether if I did not hold on to this iron bar." "Should you?" he said, with a curious intonation in his voice. "Take the reins." He put them in her hand, unfolded the plaid, and stooped to put it round her shoulders. In a momentary lull of the storm, he fancied he felt her warm breath on his chilled cheek; a little curl of her hair, dancing in the wind, brushed his hand lightly like a cobweb; and she sat there, unguarded as a child, one hand holding the reins, the other grasping the rail of the gig. Then Dudley forgot himself. His good resolutions were blotted out, and he felt only a gambler's passionate desire to stake all in one mad throw. If it failed, he was a ruined man; but, if it succeeded, what treasure-house could contain his riches? He could not wait,--he could not, he could not! One moment would tell him all, and he must know it. The future might have pleasures of its own in store, but would it ever bring back this very hour, of night, and storm, and solitude, and passionate desire? So the arm, that passed round Mona to arrange the plaid, was not withdrawn. "Give me the reins," he said firmly, with that calmness which in hours of intense excitement is Nature's most precious gift to her sons; "give me the reins and let go the rail--I will take care of you." And with a touch that was tender, but fearless with passion, his strong arm drew her close.