"That is to say you would bring disgrace upon me, and make my mother miserable. That's a man's idea of kindness. No, Rorie, we part here. Good-night, and--good-bye." "Fiddlesticks!" cried Rorie. "I shall wait for you all to-morrow morning at the kennels." Vixen had ridden past the open gate. The lodge-keeper stood at his door waiting for her. Roderick respected her wishes and stayed outside. "Good-night," she cried again, looking back at him; "Bates shall come to you to-morrow morning." The hall-door was wide open, and Captain Winstanley stood on the threshold, waiting for his stepdaughter. One of the underlings from the stable was ready to take her horse. She dismounted unaided, flung the reins to the groom, and walked up to the Captain with her firmest step. When she was in the hall he shut the door, and bolted and locked it with a somewhat ostentatious care. She seemed to breathe less freely when that great door had shut out the cool night. She felt as if she were in a jail. "I should like half-a-dozen words with you in the drawing-room before you go upstairs," Captain Winstanley said stiffly. "A hundred, if you choose," answered Vixen, with supreme coolness. She was utterly fearless. What risks or hazards had life that she need dread? She hoped nothing--feared nothing. She had just made the greatest sacrifice that fate could require of her: she had rejected the man she fondly loved. What were the slings and arrows of her stepfather's petty malice compared with such a wrench as that? She followed Captain Winstanley to the drawing-room. Here there was more air; one long window was open, and the lace curtains were faintly stirred by the night winds. A large moderator lamp burned upon Mrs. Winstanley's favourite table--her books and basket of crewels were there, but the lady of the house had retired. "My mother has gone to bed, I suppose?" inquired Vixen. "She has gone to her room, but I fear she is too much agitated to get any rest. I would not allow her to wait here any longer for you." "Is it so very late?" asked Vixen, with the most innocent air. Her heart was beating violently, and her temper was not at its best. She stood looking at the Captain, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and her whip tightly clenched. She was thinking of that speech of Rorie's about the "sweetest horsewhipping." She wondered whether Captain Winstanley had ever been horsewhipped; whether that kind of chastisement was numbered in the sum of his experiences. She opined not. The Captain was too astute a man to bring himself in the way of such punishment. He would do things that deserved horsewhipping, and get off scot free. "It is a quarter-past eleven. I don't know whether you think that a respectable hour for a young lady's evening ride. May I ask the motive of this nocturnal expedition?"