He had planned for himself the gratification of breaking in to a life of country solitude a second Virginia Sheringham. He had thought that he knew and understood the methods which would be most effective. He had his victim in his power, but behold! It was not merely not Virginia Sheringham, it was nobody in the least like her. More than once already he had been visited by the notion that he was behaving like a brute, that he was bullying a defenceless thing. Such a thought was intolerable. It simply could not be true. If it were, what outcome to the situation was there? No. It was not true. This submissiveness, this helpless passivity, was merely the policy of _reculer pour mieux sauter_. She had some desperate plan in her head--meant, perhaps, to escape? He must be ready. Meanwhile, they had tramped for nearly two hours, and Virginia's powers were giving out. The day was a fine one, and it was the hottest hour. When they reached a stile, overshadowed by the grateful coolness of a huge beech tree in the corner of a lately mown field, she sat down and begged for a few minutes' rest. "What, done up again? You don't seem to be very strong. We are two miles from home, and if we wait about we shall be late for lunch. Come along now, you can rest when we get back." "I don't want any lunch," she answered faintly, "but I must rest. Please go on and have lunch yourself, and leave me here awhile in the shade." "Ha!" he said, delighted at this confirmation of his thoughts. "No, young woman, I think it safer to keep my eye on you." She made no reply in words. Her eyes were closed, and two tears forced their way beneath the lids and slipped down her cheeks. He made an exclamation of vexation. "Not good for much, are you?" he grunted. "Comes of eating no breakfast. What am I going to do with you now, I wonder? Why didn't you call a halt before you were completely done for?" "I didn't think we should go so far," she answered listlessly. She was beyond caring how he felt. She only knew that she could not get up and go on. The sound of trotting hoofs approaching along the lane beyond the stile was heard. A dog-cart, driven by a pleasant-looking young man, came in sight. "Good luck!" muttered Gaunt. He raised his voice. "Hallo, Caunter! My wife has been making the rounds with me, and is a bit done up by the heat. Will you get down, and let me drive her home?" "Why, certainly," said a good-humoured voice, "only too much honoured. May I beg to be presented to Mrs. Gaunt?" "Virginia, this is Caunter, my bailiff," said Gaunt, concealing his unwillingness as best he could. Virginia sat up, opened her eyes and summoned a smile. Young Caunter had descended from the trap, and stood by the stile. As his eyes fell upon the bride, they widened with very spontaneous surprise and admiration. "I say, this is luck to meet you, to be the first to wish you joy, Mrs. Gaunt," he said boyishly. "My chief is hugely to be congratulated."