"That's promised; I've had my lesson. I think I'll ask Lisle to take me with him when he goes back to Canada. He and Nasmyth are the only men worth speaking of I've met for a long while. When Lisle first came here I tried to patronize him." Bella laughed, rather feebly, but she wanted to relieve the tension. "It was like you. But we'll go in. This is our secret, Jim. Nobody would believe you if you let fall a hint as to what really happened, and there are many reasons why you shouldn't. I think you said nobody else could have suspected?" "Nasmyth hadn't come up when the chestnut reached the hurdles; he was the nearest. Lisle was down with the horse upon him. He couldn't have seen anything." "Well," she decided, "perhaps that's fortunate. It isn't likely that Gladwyne will get such an opportunity again, and at the worst he acted on the spur of the moment." The lad nodded. He had felt that silence would entail some responsibility, but Bella accepted it without uneasiness. She seldom showed any hesitation when she had decided on a course. In the meanwhile, Gladwyne had spent a miserable day, alternating between horror of himself and doubts about the future. Jim Crestwick's description of the incident was correct--Gladwyne had ridden straight at the broken hurdle, knowing what the consequences might be and disregarding them. The next moment, however, the reaction had begun and he was thankful that he had not committed a hideous crime. Indeed, the knowledge that he had come so near to killing his opponent had left him badly shaken. He wondered at his insensate action until he recollected how he had once stood beside an opened cache in Canada, and then, ignoring his manifest duty, had hurried on through the frozen wilderness. On that occasion he had been accountable for his cousin's death, and now Lisle had very narrowly escaped. Yet he could with justice acquit himself of any premeditated intention in either case; fate had thrust him into a situation he was not strong enough to grapple with. Dreading Lisle, as he did, his chief thought had been for his own safety when he saw the bay blunder at the leap. To save the Canadian he must take a serious personal risk, which was foreign to his nature, and though a recognition of the fact that the death of the fallen man would be a great relief to him had been clearly in his mind, it was impossible to say how far it had actuated him.