father. He could have borne it easier if the Marquis de
Nesville had been a loving father, even a tyrannically solicitous
father; but to see such love thrown before a marble-faced man,
whose expression never changed except when speaking of his
imbecile machines! "How can he! How can he!" muttered Jack,
riding through the woods. His face was sombre, almost stern; and
always he beat the devil's tattoo on his boot with the battered
riding-crop.

But now he came to the park gate, and the keeper touched his cap
and smiled, and dragged the heavy grille back till it creaked on
its hinges.

Lorraine came down the path to meet him; she had never before
done that, and he brightened and sprang to the ground, radiant
with happiness.

She had brought some sugar for the horse; the beautiful creature
followed her, thrusting its soft, satin muzzle into her hand,
ears pricked forward, wise eyes fixed on her.

"None for me?" asked Jack.

"Sugar?"

With a sudden gesture she held a lump out to him in the centre of
her pink palm.

Before she could withdraw the hand he had touched it with his
lips, and, a little gravely, she withdrew it and walked on in
silence by his side.

Her shoulder had healed, and she no longer wore the silken
support for her arm. She was dressed in black--the effect of her
glistening hair and blond skin was dazzling. His eyes wandered
from the white wrist, dainty and rounded, to the full curved
neck--to the delicate throat and proud little head. Her body,
supple as perfect Greek sculpture; her grace and gentle dignity;
her innocence, sweet as the light in her blue eyes, set him
dreaming again as he walked at her side, preoccupied, almost
saddened, a little afraid that such happiness as was his should
provoke the gods to end it.

He need not have taken thought for the gods, for the gods take
thought for themselves; and they were already busy at Saarbrueck.
Their mills are not always slow in grinding; nor, on the other
hand, are they always sure. They may have been ages ago, but now
the gods are so out of date that saints and sinners have a chance
about equally.

They traversed the lawn, skirted the tall wall of solid masonry
that separated the chase from the park, and, passing a gate at
the hedge, came to a little stone bridge, beneath which the Lisse
ran dimpling. They watched the horse pursuing his own way
tranquilly towards the stables, and, when they saw a groom come
out and lead him in, they turn