"Not at all. I have only repaid my debt--that is, if such a debt can ever be paid. Au revoir, Miss Hale!" and raising his shabby cap with all the good breeding of a gentleman, Canning pulled away with an easy, clean stroke, which could only have been learned at a public school. CHAPTER XII A COUNTERPLOT Captain Sargent was somewhat disheartened by Lesbia's steady opposition to his wooing. He was not virile enough to take her heart by storm, and his usual tactics did not seem to succeed with this cool, quiet, observant girl, who looked at him so straight. Also his threats of harming George Walker and Mr. Hale proved to be but blunt weapons and could not penetrate the shield of Lesbia's composure. Sargent retreated from the field of battle thoroughly beaten, and he must have confessed as much to Hale, for that gentleman took his daughter to task when she returned to the cottage after her secret interview with Canning. The unsuccessful lover had already departed, and Lesbia listened for ten minutes to her father's denunciations of what he was pleased to style her wickedness. "You ought to be flattered that so rich and handsome a man loves you," raged Mr. Hale, who for once in his life lost his self-control. "You seem to forget that if I died to-morrow--and I might as my heart is affected--you would be left penniless." Lesbia raised her eyebrows. "I understood you to say that you could leave me two thousand a year," she observed quietly. "If you marry as I wish," cried her father furiously, "not otherwise. Failing your becoming the wife of my dear friend, Sargent, I shall leave the money to Lord Charvington." "Well," said the girl cheerfully, "that would only be fair, since he has paid you a pension for so long." "What do you know about that?" snapped Hale, changing colour. "Very little. But you certainly told me in an expansive moment that Lord Charvington, as your cousin, allowed you a small income." "Precious small," muttered Hale, not contradicting. "But why does he allow you anything?" asked Lesbia, very directly, "with two thousand a year you cannot wish for his help." Hale took a turn up and down the room, then stopped opposite to his daughter and spoke in quieter tones, but none the less emphatic. "I am not enjoying two thousand a year at present," he declared slowly, "and so accept an annuity from Charvington, who, being my cousin, has every right to assist me." "I don't see that," murmured the girl, shrugging. "It doesn't matter what you see, or what you don't see," cried Hale, his temper again getting beyond control. "Do as you are told, or chance the consequences." "Be a pawn in fact," she rejoined ironically. "A pawn on your chess-board." Hale shrugged in his turn. "Put it how you like," he retorted, "but obey." "Certainly not. I am a human being and have the right to----"