Her voice sank. Her lips were quivering. "I wanted you," Hugh said. She was silent. He bent slowly towards her, looking into her eyes. "My dear, didn't you really know--didn't you understand?" She shook her head; her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "No, Hugh." He held out his hand again and took hers. "Don't cry, Doris! You haven't lost much. I shall get over it somehow. I know you never cared for me." She bent her head with some murmured words he could not catch. He leaned nearer. "What, dear, what? You never did, did you?" He waited for her answer, and at last through tears it came. "I've been struggling so hard, so hard, to keep myself from caring." He was silent a moment, and again it was as if he were collecting his strength for that which had to be endured. Then slowly: "You thought I wasn't in earnest?" he said. "You thought I didn't care enough?" She did not answer him in words; her silence was enough. "God forgive me!" whispered Hugh.... There came the thud of horses' hoofs upon the grass, and his hand relinquished hers. He turned to see Jeff Ironside barely ten paces away, leading the two animals. Very pale but wholly collected, Hugh moved to meet him. "I have just been hearing about your marriage, Ironside," he said. "May I congratulate you?" Jeff's eyes, with the red sunlight turning them to a ruddy brown, met his with absolute directness as he made brief response. "You are very kind." "Doris and I are old friends," said Hugh. "Yes, I know," said Jeff. Spasmodically Doris turned and joined the two men. "We hope Mr. Chesyl will come and see us sometimes, don't we, Jeff?" she said. "Certainly," said Jeff, "when he has nothing better to do." She turned to Hugh with a bright little smile. Her tears were wholly gone, and he marvelled. "I hope that will be often, Hugh," she said. "Thank you," Hugh said gravely. "Thank you very much." He added, after a moment, to Jeff: "I shall probably be down here a good deal now. The squire is beginning to feel his age. In fact, he wants me to make my home with him. I don't propose to do that entirely, but I can't leave him alone for long at a time." "I see," said Jeff. He glanced towards Doris. "Shall we start back?" he said. Hugh propped his gun against a tree, and stepped forward to mount her. "So you still have Hector," he said. "Jeff's wedding present," she answered, still smiling. Lightly she mounted, and for a single moment he felt her passing touch upon his shoulder. Then Hector moved away, stepping proudly. Jeff was already in the saddle. "Good-bye!" said Doris, looking back to him. "Don't forget to come and see us!" She was gone. Hugh Chesyl turned with the sun-rays dazzling him, and groped for his gun. He found it, shouldered it, and strode away down the woodland path. His face as he went was the face of a man suddenly awakened to the stress and the turmoil of life. CHAPTER VIII THE NEW LIFE