Frank pulled up his horse abruptly and stood still. The oncoming figures were walking and leading their horses instead of riding. That instant, because he was no longer uneasy, Frank discovered that he was angrier and more hurt than he cared to show. All at once he overheard Jack say: "Do hurry, please, Bryan; I'm afraid everybody at home may be uneasy." But instead of hurrying, they must have stopped again. For the second time Jack murmured, "I don't see how I could ever have been such a wretch, or how I'll ever confess to Frank." Then Captain MacDonnell's inquiry: "What are you going to say?" And his wife's answer: "Why, tell the truth and face the music; what else is there to do, Bryan?" In the past few years since his marriage, undoubtedly Frank Kent had either altered or simply developed. Sometimes it is difficult to determine which one of these two things a human being has done. Frank had always been quiet and determined. If he had been otherwise he would never have tried for so many years to persuade Jacqueline Ralston to marry him. But now that he had grown older, he certainly appeared sterner. He seemed to have certain fixed ideas of right and wrong, and they were not broad ideas, to which he expected at least the members of his own household to conform. The two wayfarers were now in sight and Frank dismounted. "I am sorry to have been compelled to play eavesdropper," he said curtly, when they also caught sight of him. Jack was soaked with rain and her boots and riding habit were splashed with mud. A little river of water filled and overflowed the brim of her hat. But her cheeks were a deep rose color and her grey eyes dear and shining. Frank would never have confessed that he felt a slight pang of jealousy at the good time his wife and friend must have been having, while he had been making himself miserable with the thought that a disaster had befallen them. Jack's hand was resting on the nose of her horse, while Captain MacDonnell held the bridles of both. "You have come out to search for us, haven't you, Frank?" Jack began penitently. "I am sorry; I did not know you could have arrived from London so soon." She was now close beside her husband. "The truth is, Frank, I have had rather a horrid tumble. For a person who thinks she knows how to ride, I seem to do the stupidest possible things." "You don't seem to have hurt yourself seriously, Jack," Frank answered grimly. For in spite of her penitence, which did not seem very profound, Jack looked extraordinarily happy and glowing. "No, I wasn't hurt in the least. I managed to get clear as we went down. But my horse's knee was sprained--not so badly as Bryan and I at first thought. Still I did not like to ride him, so we have been walking along through the rain for a few miles." "How did the accident occur? I am rather surprised, Jack," Frank answered, now plainly more sympathetic because a little uneasy at what could have happened to his wife.