Perhaps, as I began to surmise, we had on that occasion really owed our lives to him. For had the _Golden Hinds_ all come on at a time, they would undoubtedly, being such a crew of cut-throats, have rushed us and eaten us up in no time. Women, I tried to persuade myself, had dislikes even more inexplicable than their likings. Some early, unforgiven, childish prejudice, perhaps. Women do not easily forgive, except those whom they love, and even these only so long as they continue to love them. For many women the phrase in the Lord's Prayer, "as we forgive them that trespass against us," had better be expunged. It is a dead letter. The exceptions are so rare as to prove the rule--and even they, though they may forgive their enemies, draw the line at forgiving their neighbours. "And am I not to see my fair enemy, Madame--ah, Duncan MacAlpine? I wish to have the honour of felicitating her infinite happiness, and I have taken the liberty of bringing her an old family jewel for her acceptance." "My wife, sir," I said, "is not yet well. She is subject to sudden shock, and I fear----" "Ah, I understand," he said, bowing gravely, and with a touch of melancholy which became him vastly; "I never had the good fortune to please the lady--as you have done." He smiled again, and waved away a clumsy attempt of mine to reply. "But that is my misfortune--perhaps, though unconsciously, my fault. Still, there is the trinket. I leave it in your hands, in trust for those of your wife. My respectful duty and service to her and--to the heir of your house! Come, Louis, will you have a ride in the coach as far as the bridge and back? I have left my Lord Lieutenant there visiting some of his doubtful tenants. I will pick him up when he is ready, and then bring this little friend of mine back." That night Louis wept and stamped in a black anger. "I don't want to stop here," he said; "I want to go with Uncle Lalor in the gilded coach." CHAPTER XXXVIII BY WATER AND THE WORD During my holidays at Heathknowes I found myself necessarily in frequent communication with my Lord Advocate. For though I was the actual, he was the ultimate editor of the _Universal Review_. I felt that he had done so much for me, and that we were now on such terms that I might without presumption ask him a private question about Lalor Maitland. Because, knowing the man to have been mixed with some very doubtful business, I wondered that a man of such honour and probity as the Advocate would in any circumstances act by such means--much less countenance his being put forward in the Government interest at a contested election.