The strange voice and the rough manner of the man--for Ned was not always on his holiday behaviour, and the worse side of his nature invariably exhibited itself when there was nothing to be gained--caused Mrs. Lenoir to shrink from him; but, deprived of his support, she almost fell to the ground again. "Don't be a fool!" cried Ned; "you are not strong enough to stand alone. Where do you live?" "Who are you?" "I am a gentleman," he replied, in a boastful tone. His manner gave the lie to his assertion, and Mrs. Lenoir, with her fine instinct, knew that the man was a braggart. "Yes, yes--but your name?" "Never mind my name--it won't enlighten you. Now, are you coming?" "No," said Mrs. Lenoir; "leave me." "What will you do if I take you at your word?" he asked brutally. "I will wait here--I will creep on till I find _her_--till I see again the face I saw a little while ago, bending over me. Heaven will give me strength--Heaven will give me strength!" "In which case," thought Ned, "I shall get myself into hot water with the Duchess. That will never do." He adopted a more conciliatory tone. "You foolish creature! You've been dreaming, and you'll bring trouble on yourself." "Dreaming!" murmured Mrs. Lenoir, pressing her hands to her head. "For mercy's sake, do not tell me so! Nay, but it is not true. Let me think--let me think. No--it was not a dream. I followed her and her companion for miles through the snow, till my strength was gone. But it has come again," she said, with hysterical sobs, which she struggled with and checked; "it has come again, and I can go on. As I lay on the ground I saw her face--the face I have dreamt of for many weary years--bending over me!" "It was my face you saw," said Ned, beginning to think that the woman was mad. "No, no," said Mrs. Lenoir, with a wan smile, "it was the face of a lovely girl." Ned's vanity and triumph in his conquest trapped him. "She _has_ a lovely face, has she not?" "It was no dream, then," cried Mrs. Lenoir eagerly. "No; it was no dream. Now, let me help you home. I promised her I would do so." "You did!" sobbed Mrs. Lenoir; "she thought of me--and pitied me! Oh, my heart!" "You'll be going off again, if you don't mind. I tell you I promised her, and I must keep my promise." "Why must you keep your promise?" Ned's boastful spirit was entirely beyond his control. "Isn't the reason plain? We love each other. Is that sufficient? If you will let me help you home, I promise that you shall see her again, if you would like to." "It is what I have lived for. You promise me--solemnly!" "On the honour of a gentleman," said Ned, laying his hand on his heart. "Will that content you?" "It must--it shall. You are right--I cannot walk without assistance. This is my way, I think. And you love her--and she loves you! I shall see her again! When? It must be soon! It _must_ be soon!" "It shall be--in a day or two. We are getting along nicely now. Ah, there's a cab--that's lucky."