"How came you to let Cris Chattaway ride my horse home? I left it for you." "_Let_ him! He mounted and galloped off without my knowing--the sneak! I should be ashamed to be guilty of such a trick. I declare I had half a mind to ride his horse home, lame as it was. But that the poor animal is evidently in pain, I would have done so." "You are very late." "I have been such a time coming. The truth is, I sat down when I was half-way here, so dead tired I couldn't stir a step further; and I dropped asleep." "A wise proceeding!" cried George, in pleasant though mocking tones. He did not care to say more plainly how _un_wise it might be for Rupert Trevlyn. "Did you sleep long?" "Pretty well. The stars were out when I awoke; and I felt ten times more tired when I got up than I had felt when I sat down." George placed him in a comfortable armchair, and got him a glass of wine, Nora brought some refreshment, but Rupert could not eat. "Try it," urged George. "I can't," said Rupert; "I am completely done up." He leaned back in the chair, his fair hair falling on the cushions, his bright face--bright with a touch of inward fever--turned upwards to the light. Gradually his eyelids closed, and he dropped into a calm sleep. George sat watching him. Mrs. Ryle, who was still poorly, had retired to her chamber for the night, and they were alone. Very unkindly, as may be thought, George woke him soon, and told him it was time to go. "Do not deem me inhospitable, Rupert; but it will not do for you to be locked out again to-night." "What's the time?" asked Rupert. "Considerably past ten." "I was in quite a nice dream. I thought I was being carried along in a large sail belonging to a ship. The motion was pleasant and soothing. Past ten! What a bother! I shall be half dead again before I get to the Hold." "I'll lend you my arm, Ru, to help you along." "That's a good fellow!" exclaimed Rupert. He got up and stretched himself, and then fell back in his chair, like a leaden weight. "I'd give five shillings to be there without the trouble of walking," quoth he. "Rupert, you will be late." "I can't help it," returned Rupert, folding his arms and leaning back again in the chair. "If Chattaway locks me out again, he must. I'll sit down in the portico until morning, for I sha'n't be able to stir another step from it." Rupert was in that physical depression which reacts upon the mind. Whether he got in or not, whether he passed the night in a comfortable bed, or under the trees in the avenue, seemed of very little moment in his present state of feeling. Altogether he was some time getting off; and they heard the far-off church clock at Barbrook chime the half-past ten before they were half-way to the Hold. The sound came distinctly to their ears on the calm night air.