"Not go, sir? Well, sir, I don't want to be disrespeckful to my master's friends; but I've thought this over, and my conscience says it's my dooty, and I shall go." The old man shook himself free, and went off at a trot, leaving the doctor hesitating as to the course to pursue. Should he run after and stop him? Should he go down the garden, interrupt the meeting, and enable them to escape? "No; a hundred times no!" he muttered, stamping his foot. "I must stop him at any cost." He ran up the garden; but he was too late, for before he reached the house he heard low voices, and found that Scarlett had been tempted out by the beauty of the night--or by fate, as the doctor put it--and was half-way down the path when Monnick had met him. "Who is this?" he said in a low, agitated voice, as the doctor met them. "It is I, old fellow," said the doctor, hastily.--"Now come, be calm. You must govern yourself. Has he told you something?" "I wanted no telling, Jack," groaned Scarlett. "The moment he opened his lips, I knew it. I have suspected it for long enough; but I could not stir--I would not stir. He, my own cousin, too; the man I have made my friend. O, heaven, is there no gratitude or manly feeling on the earth!" "My dear boy, you must--you shall be cool," whispered the doctor. "You are in a low nervous state, and--" "It is false! I am strong. I never felt stronger than to-night. This has brought me to myself. I would not see it, Jack. I blinded myself. I told myself I was mad and a traitor, to imagine such things; but I have felt it all along." "And has this been preying on your mind?" "Preying? Gnawing my heart out.--Don't stop me. Let us go. Quick! He shall know me for what I am. Not the weak miserable fool he thinks.-- Come quickly!--No! stop!" He stood panting, with Scales holding tightly by his arm, trembling for the result. "Monnick, go back to the house," said Scarlett, at last in a low whisper; and the old man went without a word. "Now you stop here," said Scarlett, in the same low painful whisper. "I will not degrade her more by bringing a witness." "But Scarlett--my dear old fellow. There must be no violence. Recollect that you are a gentleman." "Yes! I recollect. I am not going to act like a ruffian. You see how calm I am." "But it may be some mistake. I have seen nothing. It is all dependent on your gardener's words. What did he tell you?" "Hardly a word," groaned Scarlett, "hardly a word. `Prayle--the summer-house.' It was enough. I tell you, I have suspected it so long. It has been killing me. How could I get well with this upon my mind!" "But, now?" "Stay here, man--stay here." "Promise me you will use no violence, and I will loose your arm." "I promise--I will act like--a gentleman."