He almost drags her to the gate. Ella, half fainting, finds herself at it. It is the last step. In here lies safety and happiness and peace—out there—— Moore turns the key in the lock, and pulls at the handle of the door. Yes, it is all over. The door opens. At this instant a long, low, passionate cry escapes from Ella. Wyndham is standing in the roadway just outside the gate! CHAPTER LII. ‘Narrow minds think nothing right that is above their own capacity.’ ‘What is the meaning of this?’ says Wyndham. He comes in quickly, locking the door and putting the key in his pocket. He has taken in the situation at a glance. ‘It means that I have come here to take this girl out of your hands,’ says Moore, who shows no fear, or anything else, save a concentrated hatred of the man before him. ‘Then you have come on an idle errand,’ says Wyndham haughtily. ‘I should advise you to amuse yourself on Christmas Days, in future, with something more likely to prove amusing. This young lady’—with strong emphasis—‘does not stir from this spot except at her own desire.’ ‘She is coming, for all that,’ says Moore doggedly. Wyndham glances from him to Ella, who now, white as a sheet, is standing trembling, like a frightened creature, with one small hand uplifted to her lips, as if to hide their trembling. Her eyes are agonized, but in some way Wyndham can see that, though she fancies hope dead, still hope in him has lit one small spark. ‘Are you going?’ says Wyndham, addressing her directly. ‘No, no,’ breathes she from between her frozen lips. She takes a step forward. ‘Don’t let me go,’ says she. ‘Certainly I shan’t let you go,’ says Wyndham, with the utmost cheerfulness. ‘As a fact, indeed, I forbid you to go. I have excellent authority for looking after you.’ ‘What authority?’ asks Moore, who has now struck a most aggressive attitude upon the gravel path. ‘I shall question that. You to talk of authority! Why, I tell you that you, and such as you, cut a very bad figure in a court of law.’ ‘Never mind that, my man,’ says Wyndham. ‘I have no time now for impromptu speeches. May I ask what claim you have on this young lady?’ ‘I am her rightful guardian,’ says Moore, ‘and I shall exercise my rights. Open that gate, or it will be the worse for you. You talk of claims! What claim have you? Is she your wife or your——’ Wyndham, who is now as white as Ella herself, turns to her: ‘Go away,’ says he quickly; ‘go at once.’ ‘Hah! you don’t like her to hear it,’ cries Moore, now in a frenzy, as Ella, only too glad to get back into the beloved house, runs quickly towards the Cottage. He would have intercepted her flight, but Wyndham prevents him. ‘But if not your wife, what is she? Your mistress?’ ‘Hold your tongue, you —— scoundrel,’ says Wyndham, his eyes blazing. ‘Hold yours,’ says Moore. ‘Is she your wife? Come, answer that.’ ‘No,’ says Wyndham. ‘But——’