"If you were a little older and wiser, you would know what an impossible sort of way you have behaved in. But I suppose you must be excused, because you are a boy, and know no better." He turned white with anger. "I don't know if I love you, or hate you," he said. "But you shall never say that to me again." He was gone in a moment, leaving Constancy stirred, upset, and frightened, so strong was the contest between his boyish and foolish behaviour, and the impression of strength and passion made upon her by himself. She was quite sure that she hated him. Godfrey sprang into his dog-cart, and drove down the rough, stony hillside, at a break-neck pace. He was mad with anger at Constancy and at himself, while stings of conscience and vague alarm pierced the tumult of wrath, and added to its heat. He thought neither of ghost nor ancestor, as he drove madly along the stony lanes that led through the valley of the Flete; but he pressed on, as though driven by furies, fear of what he might find gradually forcing itself upon him, till, as he reached the bridge, and looked towards the house, he saw that the windows of the octagon room were full of light. In sudden alarm, he dashed on up the old avenue to the stable door. PART TWO, CHAPTER SIX. "As I went down to the water-side, None but my foe to be my guide, None but my foe to be my guide." Mrs Waynflete said nothing about the effects of her fall on the bridge, but she did not quite recover from the shock of it; and, accidental as it had been, she knew quite well that it would not have happened if her tread had been as steady and her sight as clear as had been the case six months before. She had one or two other little slips and escapes, and she said to herself that they were "warnings."