“Even so, you should not be too hard on him,” said Agnes. “Ah, my dear Clare, constancy and devotion in a man are not to be lightly considered. They may be part of a woman's nature--it seems to be taken for granted that they are part of a woman's nature; but they certainly are no part of a man's. That is why I am disposed to say a good word for our friend with that sweet tenor voice.” “What am I to do?” cried Clare. “I must either tell him the truth--that I am quite indifferent to him; or make him believe what is untrue--that I am not without a secret _tendresse_ for him. Now, surely I should be doing a great injustice to him--yes, and to the score of young women who worship him--if I were to encourage him to fancy that some day I might listen to his prayer.” “There is no question, my Clare, as to what course you should pursue,” said Agnes. “All that I would urge upon you is not to hurt him more than is absolutely necessary.” “You are thinking of the lethal chamber again,” said Clare. “Never mind; what you say is quite true, and I shall endeavor to treat him so gently that he will leave me feeling that he has been complimented rather than humiliated. After all, he means to pay to me the greatest compliment in his power, poor fellow.” “And you will show him that you appreciate it?” “I will do my best.” Before they had had their little chat the bell sounded. “I knew that he would become prosaic enough to pull the bell like an ordinary mortal,” said Clare. “Of course you will remain by my side, Agnes. Even a sentimental Italian cannot expect to enter a lady's house surreptitiously.” It was not, however, Signor Rodani who was shown into the room, but Mr. Westwood. He was wearing a great fur coat, and was actually on his way to the railway station. He was to read his paper to the Society at night, and had merely looked in at The Knoll to say good-bye to his friends. This was the explanation he offered to account for his visit at so irregular an hour. He had under his arm a small case containing all the trophies which he had succeeded in bringing from the land of his captivity--the small bow, the poisoned arrows, and the seeds of the linen plant. The bow and arrows were in a glazed case, which was locked. The more precious seeds were carefully wrapped in wadding. Neither Agnes nor Clare had seen these trophies before, though Claude Westwood had frequently alluded to them after that first day on which he had spoken about his travels through the wonderful forest.