"Hallo! Take care!" cried Dalrymple. "What are you up to now, Savage? Anything bitten you?" Lady Bell looked from one to the other, from Una's white, downcast face to Jack's pale, startled one. "Una," she breathed, "what is it?" But Jack recovered himself. "Just like you fellows," he said. "Didn't you know that you had pitched me on an ants' nest? What did you say, Lady Bell? I beg your pardon. T don't think there is much spilled, and there is nothing broken." And he knelt down and picked up the cup. Lady Bell laughed. "I couldn't think what was the matter," she said. "Are you really bitten?" "Just like Jack," said Sir Arkroyd, with philosophic calmness. "He is never happy unless he is breaking something. I give you my word that he smashes more glasses at the club than any other man." "Always was clumsy," said Jack, with a constrained laugh. Lady Bell smiled. "You have quite frightened my friend, Miss Rolfe," she said. "Una, this unfortunate gentleman is Mr. Newcombe." Jack had given her time, and she was able now to look at him calmly. Jack bowed, his eyes glancing at her as if they scarcely dared trust the evidence of their own senses. "Pray forgive me," he said. "I am very awkward. But I don't break quite so many things as they say. Is there any more champagne, Lady Earlsley? I don't deserve it, I know----" Lady Bell took up a bottle. "Pour this into the cup, Una," she said, with a smile. "It is true he doesn't deserve it, but we will be merciful." Una took the bottle and leaned forward, and as she did so Jack rose and stood before her, so that he screened her trembling hand from the eyes of the rest. His own trembled, his own heart beat wildly; all else save the beautiful face so close to his own swam before his eyes. Was he dreaming, or was it really she? He could not trust his eyes, he felt that he must touch her. Slowly he put out his hand, and gently, tremblingly touched her white, slender wrist. Instantly she raised her eyes and looked at him, a long, piteous look, as if he had struck her. Yes, it was she. It was Una, his forest-maiden! With a long breath he raised the cup to his lips and drained it, then sank down on the grass and took up his plate, scarcely knowing what he was doing. The laughing voices around him seemed blurred and indistinct in his ears, the green trees and silver stream seemed to fade and vanish, and give place to the silent glade in which he had sat with the same beautiful girl bending over him. Mechanically he went through the pretense of eating until a burst of laughter recalled him to himself. "Look here!" shouted Dalrymple in boyish glee. "Here's the Savage, busy eating nothing!" Jack laughed, awakened to the sense of the situation. He must nerve himself, if only for her sake.