"It isn't possible, Louise," he said. "You mustn't ask me to do anything of that sort after last night. It's too late you see, dear. You belong to me now. Nothing can alter that." "It is not too late," she answered passionately. "Last night was just an hour of madness. I shall cut it out of my life. You must cut it out of yours." He leaned over till his head nearly touched hers, and under the holland dust-sheet which covered her knees he gripped her hand. "I will not," he answered. "I will not go away. You belong to me, and I will have you!" She looked at him for a moment without speech. Wrayson's features, more distinguished in a general way by delicacy than strength, had assumed a curiously set and dogged appearance. His eyes met hers kindly but mercilessly. He looked like a man who has spoken his last word. "Herbert," she murmured, "there are things which you do not know and which I cannot tell you, but they stand between us! They must stand between us forever!" "Of that," he said, "I mean to be the judge. And until you tell me what they are, I shall treat them as though they did not exist." "I came here," she said, "to ask you, to beg you to go away." "Then I am afraid you must write your mission down a failure," he answered doggedly, "for I refuse to go!" Her eyes flashed at him from underneath her veil. He felt the pressure of her fingers upon his hand. He heard a little sigh--could it have been of relief? "If I failed--" she began. "And you have failed," he said decidedly. "I was to bring you," she continued, "an invitation to dine to-night at the château. It is only a verbal one, but perhaps you will forgive that." The colour streamed into his cheeks. He could scarcely believe his ears. "Louise!" he exclaimed, "you mean it?" "Yes!" she answered softly. "It would be better for you, better, perhaps, for me, if you would do as I ask--if you would go away and forget! But if you will not do that, there is no reason why you should not come to the château. A carriage will arrive for you at seven o'clock." "And you will come with me again into the gardens?" he whispered passionately. "Perhaps," she murmured. The horses, teased by the flies, tossed their heads, and the jingling of harness reminded Louise that half the village, from various vantage points, were watching the interview between the young lady from the château and the visitor at the inn. "I must go at once," she said to Wrayson. "About to-night, do not be surprised at anything you see at the château. I have no time to say more. If you notice anything that seems to you at all unusual, accept it naturally. I will explain afterwards."