"Unhappy? No, I am dull. I am ill-tempered. I am discontented. I am aught you please, so do not be sad, Richard. I cannot bear you to be solemn. Oh, why do we quarrel?" With one of her impulsive movements she was again at his side, with her beautiful face upturned. "Love me, Richard! Take me to London and never mind an I _do_ squander your money. Say you do not care! Say that nothing matters so long as I am happy! Why do you not say it? Does anything matter? Don't be prudent, Dicky! Be wild! Be reckless! Be anything rather than grave and old!" Her arms crept up to his coaxingly. "Take me to London!" Carstares smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead, very tenderly, but his eyes were worried. "My dear, I will take you, but not just yet. There is so much to be done here. If you will wait a little longer--" "Ah, if I will wait! If I will be patient and good! But I cannot! Oh, you don't understand, Dicky--you don't understand!" "I am sorry, dear. I promise I will take you as soon as possible, and we will stay as long as you please." Her arms fell away. "I want to go now!" "Dear--" "Very well--very well. We will go presently. Only don't reason with me." He looked at her concernedly. "You are overwrought, my love--and tired." "Yes," she agreed listlessly. "Oh yes; I will go now and rest. Forgive me, Dick!" She kissed her finger-tips and extended them to him. "I will be good one day." She turned and hurried out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the door open behind her. Richard stayed for a moment looking round at the signs of her late presence. Mechanically he stooped to pick up her embroidery and the pieces of her handkerchief. The two flowers were broken off short, and he threw them away. Then he left the room and went out on to the sunny terrace, gazing across the beautiful gardens into the blue distance. Across the lawn came a child of four or five, waving a grimy hand. "Father!" Richard looked down at him and smiled. "Well, John?" The boy climbed up the terrace steps, calling his news all the way. "'Tis Uncle Andrew, sir. He has rid over to see you, and is coming through the garden to find you." "Is he? Has he left his horse at the stables?" "Ay, sir. So I came to tell you." "Quite right. Will you come with me to meet him?" The little rosy face lighted up with pleasure. "Oh, may I?" he cried and slipped his hand in Richard's. Together they descended the steps and made their way across the lawn. "I have run away from Betty," announced John with some pride. "There's Uncle Andrew, sir!" He bounded away towards the approaching figure. Lord Andrew Belmanoir was Richard's brother-in-law, brother to the present Duke. He came up with John in his arms and tumbled him to the ground. "Good day, Dick! 'Tis a spoilt child you have here!" "Ay. He is but now escaped from his nurse."