'Oh, I do mean that--I do! If there has been a mistake, let it be clear now. Can I not be your friend?' She held out her hand. After a second or so of hesitation, he took it. 'I know more of you than you suspect,' he said slowly, and with a touch of hopelessness in his voice. 'I could see what you were the first half-hour I had spoken to you. And I know you know your own mind, and that you are sincere. Well, I had hoped for something else; but even your friendship will be valuable to me--when I have had a little time to forget.' 'Oh, thank you, thank you!' said Nan, somewhat incoherently. 'I know you will be wise. You have your profession to think of; that is of far more importance. I know you will be wise, and generous too, and forgive me if the fault has been mine. Now, we will not speak of any such thing again; let it be as if it had never been. Come.' He pressed her hand in silence--it was a token of good-bye. These two did not see each other again for more than three years. CHAPTER X. JINNY. One night towards the end of that interval a strange scene occurred in the old manor-house of Kingscourt, Wiltshire. From an early part of the evening it was apparent that something unusual was about to take place. The sleepy old mansion was all astir, a big fire blazed in the fireplace of the hall, and even the long corridor, which was in effect a picture-gallery, and ordinarily looked rather grim with its oak panelling and dusky portraits and trophies of arms, had been so brilliantly lit up that it seemed almost cheerful. There was no cheerfulness, however, on the face of the lord of the manor himself; and there was nothing but a keen and anxious sympathy in the regard of his friend the Vicar, who had come to keep him company. The former, Stephen Holford King, was a hale old man of over seventy, with a smoothly-shaven face grown red with exposure to the weather, silvery short-cropped hair, and fine, impressive features. His old college friend, the Rev. Mr. Lynnton, was a smaller man, and somewhat younger, though his pale face had a sad expression, as though he had come through much trouble. He also was clean shaven, which added character to his clear-cut features. His chest was narrow, and he stooped a little. 'It is kind of you to come early, Vicar,' said the taller man, who seemed much agitated in spite of his outwardly firm demeanour. 'It will be a terrible ordeal for my poor wife. I wish the evening were over.' 'You must face it like a man, friend King,' said the other. 'You have acted rightly, great as the pain must be to yourself. It is the young man's last chance, and surely he accepts it or he would not be coming at all. And--she--also.' 'If only he hadn't married her--if only he hadn't married her. She might have ruined him in pocket, as she has ruined others before; but, to come in here----' He glanced at the portraits along the walls; he seemed scarcely to know what he was saying.