He was looking decidedly out of temper, and, with only a glowering glance at Lucilla, devoted himself to the task of apologizing to his hostess for presenting himself in topboots and breeches: a social solecism which plainly lacerated all his finer feelings. In vain did Miss Wychwood beg him not to give the matter a thought, and draw his attention to her own morning-dress: nothing would do for him but to explain the circumstances which had compelled him to appear before her looking, as he termed it, like a dashed shabrag. “Owing to the haste in which I was obliged to set out on the journey I had no time to pack up my gear, ma’am,” he said. “I can only beg your forgiveness for being so improperly dressed! And also for being, I fear, so late in coming here! I was detained by the necessity of providing myself with additional funds, what little blunt I had in my pockets having been exhausted by the time I reached Bath!”

“I knew it was wrong of me to have deserted you!” cried Lucilla remorsefully. “I am so very sorry, Ninian, but why didn’t you tell me you were brought to a standstill? I have plenty of money, and if only you had asked me for it I would have given you my purse!”

Revolted, Mr Elmore was understood to say that he was not, he thanked God, reduced to such straits as that. He had laid his watch on the shelf, which was bad enough, but better than breaking the shins of his childhood’s friend. These mysterious words left his listeners at a loss, so he was obliged to explain that he had pawned his watch, which he considered to be preferable to borrowing money from Lucilla. Miss Farlow said that such sentiments did him honour; but his childhood’s friend said roundly that it was just the sort of nonsensical notion he would take into his head; and Miss Wychwood was obliged to intervene hastily to prevent a lively quarrel between them. Miss Farlow, who, whatever her opinion might be of girls who ran away from their homes and insinuated themselves into the good graces of complete strangers, had (like many elderly spinsters) a soft spot for a personable young man, encouraged him to unburden himself of his several grievances, and lavished so much sympathy on him that by the time the dinner-bell was heard he was in a fair way to forgetting the humiliating experiences he had undergone, and was able to make a hearty meal, washed down with the excellent claret with which Sir Geoffrey kept his sister provided. At which point Miss Wychwood ventured to ask him whether he meant to remain in Bath, or to return to his anxious parents.

“I must return, of course,” he replied, a worried expression in his eyes. “For they won’t know where I am, and I fear my father will be fretting himself into a fever. I should never forgive myself if he were to suffer one of his heart-attacks.”

“No, indeed!” said Miss Farlow. “Poor gentleman! Your mama, too! One hardly knows which of them to pity most, though I suppose her case is the worse, because of having double the anxiety!” She saw that he was looking guilty, and said consolingly: “But never mind! How happy they will be when they see you safe and sound! Are you their only offspring, sir?”

“Well, no: not precisely the only one,” he answered. “I’m their only son, but I have three sisters, ma’am.”

“Four!” interpolated Lucilla.

“Yes, but I don’t count Sapphira,” he explained. “She’s been married for years, and lives in another part of the country.”

“I collect your father doesn’t enjoy good health,” said Miss Wychwood, “which makes it of the first importance that you shouldn’t leave him in suspense for a moment longer than is necessary.”

“That’s just it, ma’am!” he said, turning eagerly towards her. “His constitution was ruined in the Peninsula, for besides being twice wounded, and having a ball lodged in his shoulder, which the surgeons failed to extract, after subjecting him to hours of torture, he had several bouts of a particularly deadly fever, which one gets on the Portuguese border, and which he never perfectly recovered from. And although he doesn’t complain, we—my mother and I—are pretty sure that his shoulder pains him a good deal.” He hesitated, and then said shyly: “You see, when he is well he is the most amiable man imaginable, and—and the most indulgent father anyone could wish for, but the indifferent state of his health makes him very—very irritable, and inclined to become agitated, which is very bad for him. So—so you will understand that it is of the first importance not to do anything to put him into the hips.”

“Indeed I understand!” said Miss Wychwood, regarding him with a kindly eye. “You must certainly go home tomorrow, and by the quickest way possible. I’ll furnish you with the means to pay your shot, redeem your watch, and hire a post-chaise, and you may repay me by a draft on your bank—so don’t set up your bristles!”

She smiled as she spoke, and Ninian, who had stiffened, found himself smiling back at her, and stammering that he was very much obliged to her.

Lucilla, however, was frowning. “Yes, but—Well, I see, of course, that it’s your duty to go home, but what will you say when you are asked what has become of me?

Nonplussed, he stared at her, saying after a pause during which he tried in vain to think of a way out of this difficulty: “I don’t know. I mean, I shall say that I can’t answer that question, because I gave you my word I wouldn’t betray you.”

Lucilla’s opinion of this was plainly to be read in her face. “You had as well tell them immediately where I am, because your father will make it a matter of obedience, and you’ll knuckle down, just as you always do! Oh, why, why didn’t you do as I begged you? I knew something like this would be bound to happen!”

He reddened, and replied hotly: “If it comes to that, why didn’t you do as I begged? I warned you that no good would come of running away! And if you mean to blame me for escorting you when I found you wouldn’t listen to a word of reason it—it is beyond everything! A pretty fellow I should be if I let a silly chit of an ignorant schoolgirl wander about the country alone!”

“I am not an ignorant schoolgirl!” cried Lucilla, as flushed as he was.

“Yes, you are! Why, you didn’t even know that you have to be on the waybill to get a seat on a stage-coach! Or that the Bath coaches don’t go to Amesbury! A nice fix you’d have been in if I hadn’t overtaken you!”

Miss Wychwood got up from the table, saying firmly that any further discussion must be continued in the drawing-room. Miss Farlow instantly said: “Oh, yes! So much wiser, for there is no saying when Limbury, or James, will come into this room, and one would not wish the servants to hear what you are talking about—not but what I daresay even Limbury, though a very respectable man, has been on the listen, for servants always seem to know everything about one, and how they should, if they don’t listen at keyholes, I’m sure I don’t know! Amesbury! I was never there in my life, but I am acquainted with several persons who have frequently visited it, and I fancy I know all about it! Stonehenge!”

On this triumphant note, she beamed upon the company, and followed Miss Wychwood out of the room. Neither of Miss Wychwood’s youthful guests, both reared from birth in the strictest canons of propriety, returned any answer to this speech, but they exchanged speaking glances, and young Mr Elmore demanded of Miss Carleton, in an undervoice, what the deuce Stonehenge had to say to anything?

Having comfortably installed her guests in the drawing-room, Miss Wychwood said chattily that she had been considering their problem, and had come to the conclusion that the wisest course for Ninian to pursue would be to tell his father, his mother, and Mrs Amber the whole story of his escapade. She could not help laughing when she was confronted by two horrified faces, but said, with a good deal of authority: “You know, my dears, there is really nothing else to be done! If the case had been different—if Lucilla had suffered ill-treatment at Mrs Amber’s hands—I might have consented to keep her presence here a secret, but, as far as I can discover, she has never been ill-treated in her life!”

“Oh, no, no!” Lucilla said quickly. “I never said that! But there is another kind of tyranny, ma’am! I can’t explain what I mean, and perhaps you have never experienced it, but—but—”

“I haven’t experienced it, but I do know what you mean,” Annis said. “It is the tyranny of the weak, isn’t it? The weapons being tears, reproaches, vapours, and other such unscrupulous means which are employed by gentle, helpless women like your aunt!”

“Oh, you do understand!” Lucilla exclaimed, her face lighting up.

“Of course I do! Try, in your turn to understand what must be my feelings on this occasion! I couldn’t reconcile it with my conscience, Lucilla, to hide you from your aunt.” She silenced, by a raised finger, the outcry which rose to Lucilla’s lips. “No, let me finish what I have to say! I am going to write to Mrs Amber asking her if she will permit you to stay with me for a few weeks. Ninian shall take my letter with him tomorrow, and I must trust that he will assure her that I am a very respectable creature, well-able to take care of you.”

“You may be sure I will, ma’am!” said Ninian enthusiastically. Doubt shook him, and his brow clouded. “But what must I do if she won’t consent? She is a very anxious female, you see, and almost never lets Lucy go anywhere without her, because she lives in dread of some accident befalling her, like being kidnapped, which did happen to some girl or other only last year, but not, of course, in Cheltenham, of all unlikely places!”

“Yes, and ever since Uncle Abel died she bolts all the doors and windows every evening,” corroborated Lucilla, “and makes our butler take the silver up to bed with him, and hides her jewellery under her mattress!”

“Poor thing!” said Miss Wychwood charitably. “If she is so nervous a good watch-dog is the thing for her!”

“She is afraid of dogs,” said Lucilla gloomily. “And of horses! When I was young I had a pony, and was used to ride every day of my life—oh, Ninian, do you remember what splendid times we had, looking for adventures, and following the Hunt, which we were not permitted to do, but the Master was a particular friend of ours, and never did more than tell us we were a couple of rapscallions, and would end up in Newgate!”

“Yes, by Jupiter!” said Ninian, kindling. “He was a great gun! Lord, do you remember the time that pony of yours refused, and you went right over the hedge into a ploughed field? I thought we should never get the mud off your habit!”

Lucilla laughed heartily at this recollection, but her laughter soon died, and she sighed, saying in a melancholy voice that those days were long past. “I know Mama would have bought a hunter for me, when I grew to be too big for dear old Punch, but Aunt Clara utterly refused to do so! She said she wouldn’t enjoy a moment’s peace of mind if she knew me to be careering all over the countryside, and if I was set on riding there was a very good livery-stable in Cheltenham, which provides reliable grooms to accompany young ladies when they wish to go for rides—on quiet old hacks! Exactly so!” she added, as Ninian uttered a derisive laugh. “And when I appealed to my—my insufferable Uncle Carleton, all he did was to reply in the vilest of scrawls that my Aunt Clara was the best judge of what it was proper for me to do.”

“I must say, one would take him for a regular slow-top,” agreed Ninian. “He isn’t, though. It might be that he doesn’t approve of females hunting.”

“A great many gentlemen don’t,” said Miss Farlow. “My own dear father would never have permitted me to hunt. Not that I wished to, even if I had been taught to ride, which I wasn’t.”

There did not seem to be anything to say in answer to this, and a depressed silence fell on the company. Lucilla broke it. “Depend upon it,” she said, “my aunt will write to Uncle Carleton and he will order me to do as I’m bid. I don’t believe there is any hope for me.”

“Oh, don’t despair!” said Annis cheerfully. “It wouldn’t surprise me if your aunt were to be too thankful to learn that you are in safe hands to raise the least objection to your prolonging your visit to me. She might even be glad of a respite! And if she thinks the matter over she will surely perceive that to fetch you back immediately would give rise to just the sort of scandal-broth she must be most anxious to avoid. Ninian escorted you here because I invited you: what could be more natural? I wonder where I made your acquaintance?”