He nodded, and they stood side by side watching the pathway which led around to the highroad beyond the compound. Colonel Carmichael was smiling to himself. His wife's sure conviction that the hour of Lois' union with Stafford was not far off had at last overcome his own inexplicable doubts and objections, and he even considered the possibility with a kind of satisfaction not unmingled with pain. "It is well that she should have a good strong man to protect her," he thought, conscious of age and growing infirmity. Then he looked down at the happy face beside him and his smile lost all trace of bitterness. "She loves him," was the concluding thought that flashed through his mind as Stafford appeared around the corner. He meant to say something in tender jest to her, but the words died on his lips and he felt that the hand upon his arm had tightened. It was the only sign which Lois made that a sudden change had come over her horizon. She said nothing, but in the same moment that the Colonel's eyes rested on her in half tender, half teasing query, she knew instinctively that her happiness had shattered against a rock which, hidden beneath a treacherously calm sea, had struck suddenly at the very foundations of her world. Stafford was coming toward them slowly, his head bent. It was not his face which, like a bitter frost, froze the overflow of her happy heart to icy fear--for she could not see it. It was his attitude, his movements, above all a terrible return of that presentiment which already once that day had darkened her hopeful, cheery mood. Do what she would, she could not move to meet him. She could only stand there, clinging to her guardian's arm, the smile of welcome stiffening on her pale lips. The Colonel was the first to speak. He held out his disengaged hand with a frank movement of pleasure. "Glad to see you, Stafford," he said. "I was beginning to think the fever had really got hold of you. What has caused the delay?" "Delay?" Stafford repeated dully, looking from one to the other. Travers, who had joined them a moment before, laughed with sincerity. "My good fellow--surely you have not forgotten?" he said. "You promised to fetch Miss Caruthers for the tournament." "Ah, the tournament!" Stafford passed his hand quickly across his forehead like a man who has been awakened roughly from a dream. "Of course--the tournament. I am awfully sorry--" He turned to Lois with a curious, awkward gesture. "--I'm afraid I can't come. I--I am not very fit--in fact--" He hesitated and then stopped altogether, looking past her with his brows knitted, his lips compressed as though in an effort to keep back an exclamation of pain. "You look out of sorts," Travers agreed sympathetically. "Come and take my chair. I'll look after Miss Caruthers--if she will let me."