“Let there be an end of these silly boyish reproaches,” exclaimed Mr. Black harshly. “You have done with the girl, and are about to enter upon a new life. I have generously forgiven your errors and crimes. If you repeat the drunkenness of to-day, I’ll send you to prison. Try me, and see if I do not. I have brought you a trunk from London, filled with new clothing from your tailor, shirt-maker, boot-maker and jeweller. I have spared no expense to make you look as my son should look. And now, by Heaven, if you disgrace me to-night by any recklessness and folly, any mock despair, I’ll prosecute you on that charge of perjury.” “You need not fear that I shall disgrace myself, or insult my hostess,” said Rufus doggedly. “You think no one has the instincts of a gentleman save yourself.” With such recriminations as these, the pair beguiled their drive to Wyndham; nor did they cease from them after their arrival in Mr. Black’s private parlor. A sullen silence succeeded in good time, and reigned throughout the dinner, of which they partook together. After dinner, they retired to their several rooms to dress. The trunk Mr. Black had brought from London had been deposited in his son’s chamber. Rufus had the key, and unlocked the receptacle, bringing to light an ample supply of fine garments, perfume cases, a dressing case, and a set of jewelled shirt studs in a little velvet case. He arrayed his boyish figure in his new black garments, noticing even in his despair that they fitted him as if he had been measured for them. He waited in his room until his father came for him, and submitted sullenly to his father’s careful inspection. “You’ll do,” commented Craven Black. “If you act as well as you look, I shall be satisfied. Mind, if you mention to Miss Wynde one word about the girl Lally, it’s all up with you. The cab is waiting. Come on!” They descended together to the cab, and were conveyed to Hawkhurst. On arriving at the mansion, they alighted, and entered the great baronial hall, sending in their cards to Lady Wynde by the footman. The baronet’s widow having signified to her domestic that she was “always at home” to Mr. Black and his son, the visitors was ushered into the drawing-room. Lady Wynde and Artress arose to receive them. Craven Black presented his son, and the baronet’s widow welcomed the young man graciously. She was looking unusually well this evening in a robe of pale amber silk, with a row of short locks trimmed squarely, nursery fashion, across her low polished forehead, a long black curl trailing over each shoulder, and her cheeks glowing with suppressed excitement. Rufus remembered having seen her before her marriage to Sir Harold Wynde, and his face brightened as at the sight of a friend. He was acquainted, although slightly, with his father’s cousin, Mrs. Artress, and as he held out his hand to her, he looked his surprise at seeing her at the house of Lady Wynde.