mytage, if I saw a way to save him, to do anything
to help him, I should seize it, both for the sake of my friendship for
himself and because of my affection for Una. Since you yourself are
interested in him, that is an added reason for me. But it is one thing
to admit willingness to help and another thing actually to afford help.
What is there that I can do? I assure you that I have thought of the
matter. Indeed for days I have thought of little else. But I can see no
light. I await events. Perhaps a chance may come."

Her expression had softened. "I see." She put out a hand generously to
ask forgiveness. "I was presumptuous, and I had no right to speak as I
did."

He took the hand. "I should never question your right to speak to me in
any way that seemed good to you," he assured her.

"I had better go to Una. She will be needing me, poor child. I am
grateful to you, Captain Tremayne, for your confidence and for telling
me." And thus she left him very thoughtful, as concerned for Una as she
was herself.

Now Una O'Moy was the natural product of such treatment. There had ever
been something so appealing in her lovely helplessness and fragility
that all her life others had been concerned to shelter her from every
wind that blew. Because it was so she was what she was; and because she
was what she was it would continue to be so.

But Lady O'Moy at the moment did not stand in such urgent need of Miss
Armytage as Miss Armytage imagined. She had heard the appalling story of
her brother's escapade, but she had been unable to perceive in what
it was so terrible as it was declared. He had made a mistake. He had
invaded the convent under a misapprehension, for which it was ridiculous
to blame him. It was a mistake which any man might have made in a
foreign country. Lives had been lost, it is true; but that was owing to
the stupidity of other people--of the nuns who had run for shelter when
no danger threatened save in their own silly imaginations, and of the
peasants who had come blundering to their assistance where no assistance
was required; the latter were the people responsible for the bloodshed,
since they had attacked the dragoons. Could it be expected of the
dragoons that they should tamely suffer themselves to be massacred?

Thus Lady O'Moy upon the affair of Tavora. The whole thing appeared to
her to be rather silly, and she refused seriously to consider that it
could have any rave consequences for Dick. His conti