d then he was himself again.

"Pardon me," he said. "For the moment I thought I had seen a ghost--as
though ghosts apparelled themselves like the rose! You are very like
some one I once knew who is now dead. I am so glad I have been able to
help your poor dog."

I stammered like the rustic Richard Dawson had taken me for. Who could
this finest of fine gentlemen be?

CHAPTER XI

THE FRIEND

He was tall and slim, and had an elegance of air which really does not
seem to belong to our age. His face was bronzed and his eyes were of so
dark a grey--I know since that they are grey--that I thought them black
that evening in the shadow of the woods.

He had a little black moustache, and, in odd contrast to it and his look
of youth, his hair was quite white. It was perhaps that which gave him
his air of elegance. He was really like a powdered gallant of the last
century rather than a gentleman of this. But his speech was of this, and
very Irish as well.

"I am so glad I was able to assist you," he said. "There, good dog, good
dog!" to Dido, who was fawning upon him. "Let me see! She goes a little
lame, but there is no harm done. She will be quite well in a day or two.
And this shall do no further damage."

I suppose it was no great thing, seeing that the trap was old and
rusty, but it seemed to me a great feat of strength when his long
fingers tore it apart and flung the two halves into the bushes.

"They are murderous things," he said. "Every man who laid one should
himself be caught in it."

"I am grateful to you for ever," I said. "What would I have done if you
had not been at hand? I could not leave Dido. If I had she would have
broken her leg in the effort to escape. And try as I would, I could not
force the trap apart."

"To be sure not," he said, glancing at my hands; "and I'm very glad I
came by. By the way, I was trespassing, I'm afraid. If Lord St. Leger or
any of his family had come upon me I should have been ordered out of the
woods."

"Oh no," I said, with some indignation. "That you would not have been. I
am Bawn Devereux, Lord St. Leger's granddaughter. We are not so
churlish."

He lifted his hat again.

"Lord St. Leger's popularity is well known," he said. "It has always
been a friendly and generous race. Yet I think I should have been turned
out of the woods."

"Do not say so," I implored him, in a passion of vexation. "My
grandfather would love you because of what you have done for t