Her blue eyes were raised to his, fearlessly, appealingly. Maraton was
more than ever conscious of the delicate perfection of her person, her
clear skin, her silky brown hair. She was something new to him in her
sex. He knew quite well that a request from her was an unusual thing.

"I will come, Lady Elisabeth," he promised gravely. "Beyond that, of
course, I can say nothing. But I will come to Lyndwood."

The slight anxiety passed from her face like a cloud. Her smile was
positively brilliant.

"It is charming of you," she whispered.

Mrs. Bollington-Watts was once more free and by their side. They moved
on to the corner and Maraton was on the point of taking his leave. Just
at that moment Mrs. Bollington-Watts gave a little cry of amazement. A
coach was drawn up by the side of the path, and a young man who was
driving it, was looking down at them. Mrs. Bollington-Watts stopped
and waved her hand at him almost frantically.

"Why, it's Freddy Lawes!" she exclaimed.. "Why, Freddy, what on earth
are you doing here? If this isn't a surprise! They told me you never
moved from Paris, and I thought I'd have to come right over there to see
you. . . . Well, I declare! Freddy!--why, Freddy, what's the
matter?"

The words of Mrs. Bollington-Watts seemed as though they had been
spoken into empty air. The young man was leaning forward in his place,
the reins loosely held in his hand, and a groom was already upon the
path, recovering the whip which had slipped from his fingers. His eyes