He flushed quickly. "About this affair?" "Give me a moment," repeated Miss Boyle faintly. They walked on, neither saying a word, he waiting for her and she absorbed in some emotion that held her silent. They reached a little seat by the water's edge, and there she, leaving the support of his arm, sank down. "Oh, heaven!" she cried suddenly. "You are not going to challenge him?" "What else?" he answered reluctantly. "But there is no need to talk of it." "It cannot--it must not happen!" said Miss Boyle desperately. He glanced at her half doubtingly. The moonlight was elusive, treacherous; he could not guess what emotion it was that shook her. "You laughed at the paragraph in the paper," she continued, "and now----" He ended her sentence. "I cannot laugh at his manner of taking it; that he should speak to you, in that tone--that he should dare. We could not take from any man, least of all from Lord Lyndwood." "You have neither right nor excuse to interfere," she answered. "I do not ask you to champion me, Francis." "The right of a member of your family, madam, the head of your family; your father would approve what I do." "But you swore you wished to please me," she cried feverishly. "Well, please me this way." "It is a way in which no man should please a lady," replied Sir Francis hotly. "Do not put me to the pain of a refusal, madam. My challenge goes to Lord Lyndwood." "Ah, that is what it comes to! It is not for me you care, but for your pride." "You will not be involved," he said quickly. "Can we not find a pretext for a quarrel?" Miss Boyle rose, and the silver borders of her scarf rippled from her bosom to her feet. "I am going to put myself at your mercy," she said in a quiet voice. "You must not take this quarrel upon you. You must understand." He stood silent, staring at her oval face faintly seen between the folds of gauze. "It is true, Francis--that statement in the paper. My lord wrote to me, and I to him, as it said. It was, I think, the Countess who found my letter and composed that paragraph." Her voice suddenly failed into a little sob. "Is this a wile to put me off?" demanded Sir Francis passionately. "On my honour, it is true," she answered. "It was always so between us, before his marriage, since we first met, and because of that I could not give you or any my hand." "This to my face!" exclaimed her cousin softly. Miss Boyle replied proudly. "I do you some honour. You have no claim on me. I might have put you off with lies, it is not over easy to tell the truth--_his_ truth to you." "Would you had lied sooner than I had heard it!" he answered bitterly. "It is not, madam, pleasant news." "You had to know. There must be no duel." This flicked him into a passion as if it had been an insult or a blow. "You cannot imagine, madam, that what you have told me can make any difference. By heaven, you do not dare to ask me to ignore this!" "After what I have confessed!" she cried, bewildered, piteous.