She looked at him for a long moment with moist eyes, moved and flattered by his earnestness and intensity of homage. “I take this very kindly in you, sir. I have no thanks that are worthy,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “I have no means of repaying you. You have made me very happy, Count.” He bent low over the frail hand he was holding. “Your assurance that I have made you happy repays me very fully, since your happiness is my tenderest concern. Believe me, dear lady, you may ever count Jeronymo de Samoval your most devoted and obedient slave.” He bore the hand to his lips and held it to them for a long moment, whilst with heightened colour and eyes that sparkled, more, be it confessed, from excitement than from gratitude, she stood passively considering his bowed dark head. As he came erect again a movement under the archway caught his eye, and turning he found himself confronting Sir Terence and Miss Armytage, who were approaching. If it vexed him to have been caught by a husband notoriously jealous in an attitude not altogether uncompromising, Samoval betrayed no sign of it. With smooth self-possession he hailed O’Moy: “General, you come in time to enable me to take my leave of you. I was on the point of going.” “So I perceived,” said O’Moy tartly. He had almost said: “So I had hoped.” His frosty manner would have imposed constraint upon any man less master of himself than Samoval. But the Count ignored it, and ignoring it delayed a moment to exchange amiabilities politely with Miss Armytage, before taking at last an unhurried and unperturbed departure. But no sooner was he gone than O’Moy expressed himself full frankly to his wife. “I think Samoval is becoming too attentive and too assiduous.” “He is a dear,” said Lady O’Moy. “That is what I mean,” replied Sir Terence grimly. “He has undertaken that if there should be any trouble with the Portuguese Government about Dick’s silly affair he will put it right.” “Oh!” said O’Moy, “that was it?” And out of his tender consideration for her said no more. But Sylvia Armytage, knowing what she knew from Captain Tremayne, was not content to leave the matter there. She reverted to it presently as she was going indoors alone with her cousin. “Una,” she said gently, “I should not place too much faith in Count Samoval and his promises.” “What do you mean?” Lady O’Moy was never very tolerant of advice, especially from an inexperienced young girl. “I do not altogether trust him. Nor does Terence.” “Pooh! Terence mistrusts every man who looks at me. My dear, never marry a jealous man,” she added with her inevitable inconsequence.