"I call it silly," retorted Dinah, tapping him on the face with her fan. "Now have a whisky and soda with Vivian, and go home. Beatrice and I are going to bed. And I am sure you want to sleep," she said, glancing at her friend's pale face; "you look quite worn out." "I am all right," said Beatrice somewhat impatiently. "Good night, Jerry--good night, Vivian," and the two girls went up to their rooms; while Vivian played host to Jerry, and got rid of him as speedily as he could. He was in no mood for the young journalist's aimless chatter. Next morning Beatrice awoke at five o'clock. She could not sleep longer, although, owing to being worn out on the previous night, she had slumbered very soundly. It was a lovely fresh morning, and she felt inclined for a walk. It was too early to see Durban, as he would not yet be up, early riser though he was. After a few minutes' thought, Beatrice decided to walk up to the Downs and see if old Orchard was about. She would get there about the time he was starting off with his flock, and in any event would be certain to find him in his hut at the morning meal. Hastily scribbling a note that she would return to breakfast and had gone for a stroll, Beatrice dressed herself and stole downstairs. Leaving the note on the dining-room table where it would certainly be found by Mrs. Lilly, the girl went out of the back door. The house-dog in the yard barked joyously at her coming, as she was a favourite of his. Beatrice, for the sake of company, let him loose, and took him with her. She literally danced along the road in spite of the troubles which environed her. She was young, and the morning air was like champagne. Also she felt a conviction that things would surely come right, and that she and Vivian would become man and wife. She did not wish for the death of Mrs. Paslow, wicked as the woman was, nor did she wish Vivian to divorce her, which--as he had said--he could not do. But she felt that in some way the barrier would be removed, and that its removal lay in her own hands. Thus her heart began to grow light, and as she climbed the Downs amidst the glory of the dawn, she breathed a prayer to God that He would take all these troubles out of her life, and bring her to a safe haven. Orchard was at the door of his hut as usual, and also he was eating, just as he had been when she saw him last. He might have been seated there all the time, for all she knew. The sheep were nibbling the dewy grass, and the sun was rising in splendour, when the old shepherd beheld her. He turned his mild eyes on her, and greeted her quietly. "You're the young lady as called to see me the other day?" he said. "Colonel Hall's daughter," explained Beatrice, taking the stool he offered, "and I have come to see you about yours." "About my what?" asked Orchard quietly. "About your daughter Maud. She came last night to see Mr. Paslow."