raceful carriage. He walked backwards and
forwards in front of the trilithon.

The shepherd lad had hardly done speculating on the strangeness of the
unknown's presence here at such an hour, when he saw a second figure
crossing the open sward towards the locality of the trilithon and furze-
clump that screened the hut. This second personage was a woman; and
immediately on sight of her the male stranger hastened forward, meeting
her just in front of the hut window. Before she seemed to be aware of
his intention he clasped her in his arms.

The lady released herself and drew back with some dignity.

'You have come, Harriet--bless you for it!' he exclaimed, fervently.

'But not for this,' she answered, in offended accents. And then, more
good-naturedly, 'I have come, Fred, because you entreated me so! What
can have been the object of your writing such a letter? I feared I might
be doing you grievous ill by staying away. How did you come here?'

'I walked all the way from my father's.'

'Well, what is it? How have you lived since we last met?'

'But roughly; you might have known that without asking. I have seen many
lands and many faces since I last walked these downs, but I have only
thought of you.'

'Is it only to tell me this that you have summoned me so strangely?'

A passing breeze blew away the murmur of the reply and several succeeding
sentences, till the man's voice again became audible in the words,
'Harriet--truth between us two! I have heard that the Duke does not
treat you too well.'

'He is warm-tempered, but he is a good husband.'

'He speaks roughly to you, and sometimes even threatens to lock you out
of doors.'

'Only once, Fred! On my honour, only once. The Duke is a fairly good
husband, I repeat. But you deserve punishment for this night's trick of
drawing me out. What does it mean?'

'Harriet, dearest, is this fair or honest? Is it not notorious that your
life with him is a sad one--that, in spite of the sweetness of your
temper, the sourness of his embitters your days. I have come to know if
I can help you. You are a Duchess, and I am Fred Ogbourne; but it is not
impossible that I may be able to help you . . . By God! the sweetness of
that tongue ought to keep him civil, especially when there is added to it
the sweetness of that face!'

'Captain Ogbourne!' she exclaimed, with an emphasis of playful fear. 'How
can such a comrade of my youth behave to me as you do? Don't