"Written to his old villain of a grandfather, who, I expect, is at the bottom of the mischief. I sent a boy with it on one of your wild mountain ponies. He ought to be nearly back by this time." "You didn't tell him--" "I merely asked for an interview. I had thought of driving over there, but I was afraid the rapscallion would bar his gates against me." "The country people would tell you it wasn't safe." "Pooh! What a mass of superstition has grown up about the place! Just because it stands in a dark spot and is surrounded by unwholesome weeds. Why, if I could have hoped to get past the gates, I'd have gone like a shot. Dobson would come and fetch me out after a certain time. He's as brave as a lion, though you wouldn't believe it." "There are those horrible dogs." "Poor, lumbering, unhappy brutes! I should never be afraid of them." "All the same, I'm glad you didn't go, you intrepid little fairy godmother." "You'll see that I can be intrepid where it's a question of fighting for my girl's happiness." "Sir Rupert will never consent to the marriage, Lady O'Brien." "A fig for the man's consent! I only want to find out where the boy is. If he cuts up rusty I'll tell him to go and be hanged. I've a roof to cover them, and enough for a young couple to live on, even with the old woman in the chimney-corner." "How good you are, Lady O'Brien! No wonder Esther loves you." "It is she who is good to come here and brighten my old life with her youth and freshness." "You are very young in heart," I could not help saying. "Ah! my dear, perhaps I keep my heart a little green. I remember when I was young myself--long before ever I thought of my good Peter--and how I loved somebody, and thought I should die of losing him." "But why did you lose him?" I whispered. "He never thought of me, my dear, not in that way. He never even suspected that I thought of him." I looked at her in wondering sympathy. "It was your grandfather, Hilda," she said. "He's a saint in heaven to-day, dear fellow, but, upon my word, I half wish he'd been less saintly, and had called out De Lacy and put a bullet through him." The transition was so sudden and characteristic that I burst out laughing. Just then the page-boy came to the door. "Your ladyship's messenger has returned and brought a note." Lady O'Brien snatched the note from the salver. "There, that will do. Never mind the fire. We'll attend to it ourselves. Go out, and shut the door after you." She tore open the note, glanced at it, and then handed it to me. It was written on a half-sheet of paper, evidently torn from a letter, and with ink so pale as to suggest an application of water to the ink-pot. _Sir Rupert De Lacy presents his compliments to Lady O'Brien, and will do himself the honour of calling on her to-morrow at five._