"I never venture into the ladies' sanctum after dinner till the tea is announced," he retorted. "I have an idea, shared by my sex generally, that it is not safe--that, in short, you are too ferocious." "And you prefer riding about the country till we quiet down. Are we quiet now, or do we look ferocious?" And she smiled up at him from behind her fan with a plain invitation. He sat down beside her and began to talk the infinite nothings which came to his lips so easily, the trivial small change which his musical voice and rare smile seemed to transform to true coin; but while he talked his thoughts were wandering to the dark-haired girl who had shone down upon him from her green and fragrant bower in the lane, and he found himself picturing her in the little room at the cottage in the meadows, amongst the curious litter of the old artist's studio; and gradually his answers grew disjointed and inconsequential. He got up presently, got up abruptly, and wandered across the room stopping to exchange a word or two with one and the other, his tall, graceful figure towering above those of the other men, his handsome head thrown back musingly. Many an admiring and wistful glance followed him from among the women, and not a few would have exerted all their fascinations to keep him by their side, had they not known by experience, that when he was in his present mood he was deaf to the voice and smile of the charmer, charmed she never so wisely. CHAPTER IV. The countess watched him from her table, and, looking up at the earl, murmured: "Leycester is in one of his restless moods to-night." "Yes," he said, with a sigh. "What is it?--do you know?" "No," she said, calmly. "He was all right at dinner." "Why can he not behave like other people?" said the earl, sadly. "Can you fancy any other man leaving his father's guests and riding about the country?" "Leycester never was like any other," she said, not without a touch of pride. "He is as he is, and nothing can alter him." The earl was silent for a moment, his long white hands folded behind his back, his dark eyes fixed on the floor. "Has he told you of his last escapade--his last mad freak?" he said, in a low voice. "Yes," she answered, calmly. "He has never concealed anything from me." "It is nearly twenty thousand pounds. Even Wyndward must feel such strains as this." The countess raised her head. "I know," she said; "he has told me everything. It was a point of honor. I did not quite understand; horse-racing is a pastime with which I have little sympathy, though we have always owned race-horses. It was a point of honor. Some one had been taking advantage of his name to act dishonestly, and he withdrew the horse. He could take no other course," he says. The earl sighed. "No doubt. But it is mad folly, and there is no end to it--if he could see some limit! Why does he not marry?" The countess glanced at the handsome face. "He will not marry until he meets with some one he can love."