before
long, as the little hymn says. Eh, what? Look at Beverley! Only been
married six months, and as callous as the best of us. Goes off
comfortably, day after day, and leaves his wife behind. Never gives her
a thought till he comes back. Do you, Beverley?"

"Not one," said Martin. He looked across into Grizel's eyes, and Grizel
looked back at him, and in that glance was concentrated all the poetry,
and all the music and all the pure and lovely things that have lived and
blossomed, since the beginning of time. But the Squire saw none of it,
because his eyes were blind.

"Don't be a fool!" he continued bluffly, addressing himself to his
guest. "The time will pass twice as quickly if you've something to do.
We'll be back for lunch; that will give you time to walk comfortably to
the station. As a matter of fact, my dear fellow, you're bound to come,
for we've fixed up the game. We'll let you off to-morrow, but you can't
chuck us to-day!"

He turned back into the house to collect his clubs, which lay in the
gun-room half a dozen yards away. Martin and Grizel followed, and for
the moment Cassandra and Dane were alone. She stood still and rigid,
her hands clasping the rail of the verandah, her eyes staring straight
ahead. Peignton drew nearer; so near that his arm almost touched hers.
His heart pounded within him with sickening thuds. It seemed to him
that if she would give him one glance of understanding and sympathy, he
could hold himself in, as he had done a dozen times before, but she
stood immovable, vouchsafing no sign, and suddenly he found himself at
the end of his endurance. He bent his head to hers, and his voice came
in a thick, broken whisper:

"_I wish to God_!" he gasped, "_I could break my ankle again_!"

The next moment the Squire returned calling loudly for Martin to follow.
The three men shouldered their clubs, and crunched down the garden
path.

That afternoon at tea-time, Teresa arrived.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

"THIN-SPUN LIFE."

During the next two days Grizel was haunted by a prevision of danger.
She rose with it in the morning, carried it in her heart all day, was
pursued by it in her dreams. On the surface all seemed smooth and
placid,--a pretty house, a charming garden, a party of friends enjoying
the summer weather. There were games, there was laughter, there was a
flow of words, but beneath it all, her sensitive nature sensed the
rumbling of a storm.

The third m