The frankness with which the conversation had been distinguished had considerably surprised the young earl. No one seemed to require the use of diplomacy in making plain an unpleasant meaning, and even Lady Wynde did not seem offended at the utterance of home truths from the lips of Mr. Atkins. It was an hour for plain-dealing, which was freely indulged in. The visitors, finding their errand fruitless, offered Lady Wynde their best wishes for her future, and bade her good-morning. At the door, Sir John Freise looked back with a smile and said: “You look pale, Neva. Come down the avenue for a walk. I have a message for you from the girls which I forgot to deliver.” Neva procured her hat, and followed Sir John out of the house. The horses were in waiting, and Mr. Atkins mounted. Sir John and Lord Towyn took their bridles on their arms, and walked slowly down the long arched avenue with the young heiress. Lady Wynde watched them jealously from the window. “I am afraid, my dear,” said the kindly baronet, “that you have made a romantic decision to-day, but you must decide in this matter for yourself. If you remain unmarried, these Blacks will fairly riot at Hawkhurst for the next three years. Craven Black will fill your father’s house with dissolute company, and you will be brought in contact with men whom your father would never have allowed to cross his threshold.” “Should such an event arise,” said Neva, her lovely face growing resolute and stern, “I will then consider your proposition, Sir John, to seek a change of guardians. But I dread the publicity such a proceeding would cause.” “Why don’t you take into consideration Atkins’ idea then?” demanded Sir John, smiling, yet earnest. “You must marry some day, Neva; why not marry soon? You have plenty of suitors. Only choose some one worthy to stand in your father’s place, and you will be happy. Your marriage will be the best way out of the difficulty--the best and the easiest. It would be a great load off my mind to see you happily married, my dear child. Wait a moment, Atkins?” added the baronet, raising his voice. “Why go so fast? I have a word to say to you.” The kindly old man hurried on to speak to his coadjutor, leading his horse as he went, and Neva and Lord Towyn were left to themselves--an opportunity specially planned by Sir John, who regarded his manœuvres as decidedly Machiavellian, and who consequently plumed himself upon their success. The young earl’s visit at Freise Hall had long since terminated, and he was now stopping at his marine villa on the coast, a dozen miles or more away. The distance was not so great that he could not ride over to Hawkhurst every pleasant day, and he did so with an utter disregard of distance or exertion. His suit with Neva, however, had never progressed beyond his early declaration of love, Neva’s reserve having chilled him whenever he had attempted to renew the subject.