"Look here, mother," cried Richard, hotly, "I'm not going to stand all this. You want me to marry Eve, and I shall marry her some day; but if I choose to be a bit gay first I shall. I'm my own master and shall do as I like." "Worse and worse!" exclaimed Mrs Glaire, whose voice was now an angry whisper. "Not one blush of shame--not one word of sorrow or humility before the pure, sweet, forgiving girl, whose feelings you have outraged. I ask myself again--as I could almost say, thank God your father is not alive to know it!--is this my son?" "There, confound your heroics!" exclaimed Richard, impatiently. "You say I want you to marry Eve, and that some day you will," continued Mrs Glaire. "Disabuse your mind, Richard, for I do not wish you to many Eve, and marry her you shall not." "There, that'll do," cried Richard; "I've had enough of this. Here, come along with me, Evey. I'll walk home with you and explain all." He tried to take Eve's hand, to draw through his arm, but she drew back from him, looking cold and pale, while her eyes dilated, and she shuddered slightly. "Here, walk home with me, you little silly," he continued. "No--no--no," said Eve, slowly, as she turned from him, and clinging to Mrs Glaire's arm, she hid her face upon her aunt's shoulder, as in those few moments her girlhood's innocent belief and trust in her cousin passed away, and with the eyes of a woman she for the first time saw him in his true character. "As you like," said Richard, flippantly, and assuming an injured tone. "You'll be sorry for this." No one answered him, for Mrs Glaire drew Eve's arm through hers, and without a word they walked hastily home. "Damn it all!" exclaimed Richard, taking the cigar from his mouth, and throwing it impatiently down. "How cursedly unlucky. Well, I don't care: they must have known it some day. Evey will soon forget it all, and I shall easily get round the old woman with a bit of coaxing. Now where's little Daisy?" He walked hastily down the path by which she had fled, knowing only too well that it led farther into the wood, and feeling sure that he should find her waiting for him to join her. He was quite right, for before long he came upon her, sitting down and crying as though her heart would break. "Hallo! little pet," he cried; and she started up in a frightened way at his words, "what have you got to cry about? I'm the one that ought to bellow. See what a wigging I've had." "Oh, Mr Richard!" sobbed Daisy. "There, _Mister_ Richard again," he cried, catching her in his arms. "Then Dick, dear Dick, there must be no more of this, I shall never be able to hold my face up in the place again." "Stuff!" he cried, "come along." "No, no," she sobbed. "I'm going straight home now." "Just as you like," he said, cavalierly, and he took out his cigar-case. "Don't be angry with me, Dick, please; for I'm so unhappy," sobbed the girl.