Molyneux was a devil-may-care, sporting squire, with the
sins of his class to his account. He drank, and gambled, and rioted,
and oppressed his people that they might supply his pleasures; nor was
that all, for he had sent the daughter of honest people in shame and
sorrow over the sea. People muttered when they heard he was to marry
Lord Dunlough's daughter, that she would be taking another woman's
place; but it was said yet again that it would be well for his tenants
when he was married, for the lady was so kind and charitable, so
gentle and pure, that her name was loved for many a mile. She had
never heard the shameful story of that forlorn girl sailing away and
away in the sea-mist, with her unborn child, to perish miserably, body
and soul, in the streets of New York. She had the strange love of a
pure woman for a wild liver; and she thought fondly when she caressed
his fine, jolly, handsome face that soon his soul as well as his dear
body would be in her keeping: and what safe keeping it would be.

Sir Robert had ever a free way with women of a class below his own,
and he did not find it easy to relinquish it. When he was with the
Lady Eva he felt that under those innocent, loving eyes a man could
have no desire for a lesser thing than her love; but when he rode
away, the first pretty girl he met on the road he held in chat that
ended with a kiss. He was always for kissing a pretty face, and found
the habit hard to break, though there were times when he stamped and
swore great oaths to himself that he would again kiss no woman's lips
but his wife's--for the man had the germ of good in him.

It was a fortnight to his wedding day, and he had had a hard day's
hunting. From early morning to dewy eve they had been at it, for the
fox was an old one and had led the dogs many a dance before this. He
turned homeward with a friend, splashed and weary, but happy and with
the appetite of a hunter. Well for him if he had never set foot in
that house. As he came down the stairs fresh and shining from his
bath, he caught sight of a girl's dark handsome face on the staircase.
She was one of the servants, and she stood aside to let him pass, but
that was never Robert Molyneux's way with a woman. He flung his arm
round her waist in a way so many poor girls had found irresistible.
For a minute or two he looked in her dark splendid eyes; but then as
he bent lightly to kiss her, she tore herself from him with a cry and
ran away into th