“Helen, now that we are here, ‘_en champ clos_’--or to translate it freely, Miss Ferrars and auntie are gone to dress, and the master and mistress are out--tell me honestly what you think about the business--will it all come right, or will he hook it off to the wars again?” “What a way of expressing yourself! What polished ease! Well, if you want my opinion, you are quite welcome to it. I think the prospect is decidedly gloomy.” “You do? Well, listen to me--I am certain that his cool indifference is only assumed--is that nicely expressed?--and, as to her, I daresay she is quite ready to kiss and be friends. Suppose you break the ice with her, and I’ll put out a feeler in his direction?” “Helen,” almost shouted her husband, “don’t attempt to interfere, whatever Geoffrey may do--and he has assurance for twenty. But you’ll see he will only burn his fingers,” added Mr. Mayhew emphatically. “Never mind him, Helen, you back _me_ up,” urged Geoffrey eagerly. Helen merely shook her head in reply. “Pouff! Mr. Mayhew,” he expostulated indignantly, “I had a much better opinion of you. You have no pluck!” So saying, he lounged out of the room, banging the door loudly after him. CHAPTER XI. “MEET ME BY MOONLIGHT ALONE.” In the meantime, Sir Reginald was walking rapidly in the direction of the Summers’ cottage. He reached the wood, which was thickly planted, and covered about an acre of ground. Spruce and fir made it dusky even in the daytime, and now in the twilight it was almost pitch-dark. Vaulting over the stile, he followed a path till he came to another stile, near which was the cottage, as Geoffrey had described. “I’ve come far enough,” he said to himself, “and whilst I wait I’ll have a smoke.” So, leaning against a tree, he struck a light, and lit at least his sixth cigar that day. After five minutes or so he saw the cottage door open, and a white dog and a slender white figure emerge, both of which started off at a brisk run across the field, Alice collapsing to a sober walk as she neared the plantation. Stepping lightly over the stile, she advanced cautiously through the gloom, but descrying the spark at the end of her husband’s cheroot, she exclaimed, as she sprang towards him and seized his arm: