Turned round in time to see a huge bay horse ridden by a tall, thin, dark young man, almost upon the slim form, standing with its back to it. With something like an oath on his lips, he dropped the flowers and with one spring stood between her and the horse, and seizing the bridle with both hands threw the beast, with sheer force, on to its haunches. The rider had been staring at the river, and was taken by surprise so complete, that, as the horse rose on its legs, he was thrown from the saddle. Stella, alarmed by the noise, turned and swerved out of the path. And so they were grouped. Lord Leycester, pale with furious passion, still holding the reins and forcing the horse in an iron grip, and the erstwhile rider lying huddled up on the mossy road. He lay still, only for a moment, however; the next he was on his feet and advancing toward Lord Leycester. It was Jasper Adelstone. His face was deadly pale, making, by contrast, his small eyes black as coals. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed, furiously, and half-unconsciously he raised his whip. It was an unlucky gesture, for it was all that was needed to rouse the devil in Lord Leycester's breast. With one little irresistible gesture he seized the whip arm and the whip, and flinging the owner to the ground again with one movement, broke the whip, and flung it on the top of him with the other. It was all done in a second. With all the will in the world, Stella had no time to interpose before the rash act was accomplished; but now she sprang between them. "Lord Leycester," she cried, pale and horror-stricken, as she gazed into his face, white and working with passion; all its beauty gone, and with the mask of a fury in its place. "Lord Leycester!" At the sound of her voice--pleading, expostulating, rebuking--a shiver ran through him, his hand fell to his side, and still holding the now plunging and furious horse with a grip of steel, he stood humbly before her. Not so Jasper Adelstone. With a slow, sinuous movement he rose and shook himself, and glared at him. Speechless from the sheer breathlessness of furious hate he stood and looked at the tall, velvet-clad figure. Stella was the first to break the silence. "Oh, my lord!" she said. At the sound of her reproachful voice, Lord Leycester's face paled. "Forgive me," he said, humbly. "I beg--I crave your forgiveness; but I thought you were in danger, you were--you were!" Then, at the thought, his fiery passion broke out again, and he turned to the silent, white-faced Jasper. "What the devil do you mean by riding in that fashion?" Jasper Adelstone's lips moved, and at last speech came. "You shall answer for this, Lord Leycester." It was the worst word he could have said. In an instant all Lord Leycester's repentances fled. With a smothered oath on his lips, he advanced toward him.