‘Yes, I; even I. If you had had many friends and many claims upon your time and your attention, would you have had leisure to do all the kind things you have performed for me in the short time since I came here?—to think all the kind thoughts which I know you have thought? Should I have been able to endure being under your father’s roof if I had found you engrossed with others—looking upon me as an alien and an interloper, instead of treating me as you have done? It would have maddened me, I think. No; do not try to deny your own goodness. I have felt it every hour since I met you; and to one in my position, every kind thought and gentle action on the part of others is as another bead added to one’s string of pearls.’ Nita was perfectly silent. Her under-lip quivered a little. Tears rushed to her eyes and blinded her. She had kept up all along a brave show of light-heartedness and carelessness; but Wellfield had laid his spell upon her from the first moment of meeting him. So long as he merely talked nonsense to her, she could appear indifferent. The moment he touched deeper springs, her heart gave way, and her outward gaiety collapsed. They were both absorbed—both in danger. Nita was struggling to choke back her emotion; but the thought of this poor, proud, lonely fellow at her side, disinherited, and grateful even for her goodness, was an overpowering one. Wellfield himself was watching her with an agreeable sensation of power. At this juncture, while Nita’s hands retained scarcely any hold on the reins, they slowly turned a sharp corner in the road, arriving at the summit of a hill, and were suddenly confronted by a panting, groaning, snorting traction-engine, industriously toiling up the hill with two huge trucks full of blocks of white stone; and urged onwards by its engineer and stoker with loud phrases and ejaculations as if it had been a living creature. Nita’s roans failed to recognise any kinship in this strange and hideous monster. They shied, swerved, plunged for a moment; then bolting, tore along the short space of level ground at the top of the hill, and proceeded to rush at full gallop down the next incline. Jerome saw that Nita turned suddenly pale, and set her teeth. She knew what was coming, and he did not. She tightened her hold on the reins, but the roans were young and strong and fresh; her wrists were small and slender. They dashed round the first curve of the road, and from Nita’s lips escaped a low ‘Ah!’ as they saw before them a straight steep hill, at the bottom of which was a deep mill-dam, then a mill-race, rushing swiftly along; a narrow stone bridge spanned the stream at the foot of the hill, and on the opposite side rose another hill as steep as the one down which they were tearing. Jerome quickly laid his hand on her wrist. Personal cowardice in moments like this was not amongst his faults. ‘Let them alone!’ said Nita, between her teeth. ‘They don’t know your hand: you shall not touch them.’