Having distinctly asserted her intention of remaining a widow to Violet, Mrs. Tempest allowed herself the privilege of being civil to Captain Winstanley. He dropped in at afternoon tea at least twice a week; he dined at the Abbey House whenever the Scobels or any other intimate friends were there "in a quiet way." He generally escorted Mrs. Tempest and her daughter from church on Sunday morning, Violet persistently loitering twenty yards or so behind them on the narrow woodland path that led from Beechdale to the Abbey House. After walking home from church with Mrs. Tempest, it was only natural that the Captain should stop to luncheon, and after luncheon--the Sabbath afternoon being, in a manner, a legitimate occasion for dawdling--it was equally natural for him to linger, looking at the gardens and greenhouses, or talking beside the drawing-room fire, till the appearance of the spitfire Queen Anne tea-kettle and Mrs. Tempest's infusion of orange pekoe. Sometimes the Scobels were present at these Sunday luncheons, sometimes not. Violet was with her mother, of course, on these occasions; but, while bodily present, she contrived to maintain an attitude of aloofness which would have driven a less resolute man than Conrad Winstanley to absent himself. A man more sensitive to the opinions of others could hardly have existed in such an atmosphere of dislike; but Captain Winstanley meant to live down Miss Tempest's aversion, or to give her double cause for hating him. "Why have you given up hunting, Miss Tempest?" he asked one Sunday afternoon, when they had gone the round of the stables, and Arion had been fondled and admired--a horse as gentle as an Italian greyhound in his stable, as fiery as a wild-cat out of it. "Because I have no one I care to hunt with, now papa is gone." "But here in the Forest, where everybody knows you, where you might have as many fathers as the Daughter of the Regiment----" "Yes, I have many kind friends. But there is not one who could fill my father's place--for an hour." "It is a pity," said the Captain sympathetically. "You were so fond of hunting, were you not?" "Passionately." "Then it is a shame you should forego the pleasure. And you must find it very dull, I should think, riding alone in the forest." "Alone! I have my horse." "Surely he does not count as a companion." "Indeed he does. I wish for no better company than Arion, now papa is gone." "Violet is so eccentric!" Mrs. Tempest murmured gently.