Crispin, therefore, deprived of the company of his inamorata, was by no means in a cheerful mood, and regretted that Eunice had not sufficient strength of mind to defy her mother, and end all his trouble by marrying him without delay. He had a very impulsive nature, and would have liked to sweep away these obstacles by sheer force of insistence that the marriage should take place at once; but his impulses were in a great measure restrained by experience in the school of the world, and he saw that it would be wiser to watch and wait. Already he was seriously thinking of ending his visit, and returning to town, in order to enlist his great friend, Lady Bentwitch, on his side, as such a fashionable personage might be able to talk Mrs. Dengelton into assenting to the marriage; but in spite of his strength of character he was reluctant to leave Eunice even for the short space of a week. So, like the ass between two bundles of hay, he could not quite make up his mind which course to take, when he saw Maurice coming leisurely along the terrace, and the conversation which ensued between them enabled him to at once settle his future movements. When the master of Roylands reached his side, Crispin was struck with the unusual vivacity of his face. The gloomy look which it generally wore had quite disappeared, and in its place was an alert, eager expression, which showed that Maurice was deeply interested in some important matter. “My dear Roylands,” cried Crispin in astonishment, “why this transformation? Yesterday you were plunged in gloom, to-day Romeo on his way to Juliet looked not so happy. Who is the enchanter—or shall I say enchantress—who has worked this miracle?” “The Rector has been giving me a lecture,” said Maurice gayly, lighting a cigarette; “a terrible lecture, which reminded me of the days when I made false quantities in Latin verse, and translated good Greek into bad English.” “Ah, you ought to have a lecture every day if it benefits you in this way. You are much pleasanter as Sancho Panza than as Don Quixote.” “Explain!” “Well, the squire was always merry, and the knight doleful; so I like you as the former more than the latter.” “I am afraid we have changed characters, Crispin. You are the Knight of the Rueful Countenance now.” “Eunice”— “_Cela va sans dire_,” said Maurice, leaning his elbows on the balustrade. “Oh, do not look so astonished, Monsieur Cupid! I am not so blind but what I can see how things stand between you and Psyche.” “You take credit to yourself when none is due,” replied Crispin significantly. “Mr. Carriston drew your attention to our position. You did not see it for yourself.” “That is true enough; but how did you guess that the Rector told me?” “Because you were too much wrapped up in yourself to notice unhappy lovers.” “Unhappy lovers?” “Yes. I love Eunice, and my affection is returned; but there is an obstacle which prevents our marriage.” “And this obstacle?” “Is yourself.” “I?”