make such use as this of the knowledge you came by in that manner. It were a Judas's act." He
would have interrupted her, but her manner dominated him. "You will leave this letter with me, Richard," she continued.
"Damn me! no . . ." he began.
"Ah, yes, Richard," she insisted. "You will give it to me, and I shall thank you for the gift. It shall prove a weapon for my salvation, never fear."
"It shall, indeed," he cried, with an ugly laugh; " when I have ridden to Exeter to lay it before Albemarle."
"Not so," she answered him. "It shall be a weapon of defence — not of offence. It shall stand as a buckler between me and Mr. Wilding. Trust me, I shall know how to use it."
"But there is Blake to consider," he expostulated, growing angry. "I am pledged to him."
"Your first duty is to me . . ."
"Tut!" he interrupted. "Blake feels that he owes it to his loyalty to lay this letter before the Lord-Lieutenant, and, for that matter, so do I."
"Sir Rowland would not cross my wishes in this," she answered him.
"Folly!" he cried, now thoroughly aroused. "Give me that letter."
"Nay, Richard," she answered, and waved him back.
But he advanced nevertheless.
"Give it me," he bade her, waxing fierce. "Gad! It was folly to have told you of it. I had not done so but that I never thought you such a fool as to oppose yourself to the thing we intend."
"Listen, Richard . . ." she besought him.
But he was grown insensible to pleadings.
"Give me that letter," he insisted, and caught her wrist. Her other hand, however — the one that held the sheet — was already behind her back.
The door was suddenly thrust open, and Diana appeared. "Ruth," she announced, "Mr. Wilding is here."
At the mention of that name, Richard let her free. "Wilding!" he ejaculated, his fierceness all blown out of him. He had imagined that already Mr. Wilding would be in full flight. Was the fellow
mad?
"He is following me," said Diana, and, indeed, a step could be heard in the passage.
"The letter!" growled Richard in a frenzy, between fear and anger now. "Give it me! Give it me do you hear?"
"Sh! You'll betray yourself," she cried. "He is here."
And at that same moment Mr. Wilding's tall figure, still arrayed in his bridegroom's finery of sky-blue satin, loomed in the doorway. He was serene and calm as ever. Neither the discovery of the
plot by the abstraction of the messenger's letter, nor Ruth's strange conduct — of which he had heard from Lord Gervase — had sufficed to ruffle, outwardly at least, the inscrutable
serenity of his air and manner. He paused to make his bow, then advanced into the room, with a passing glance at Richard still spurred and booted and all dust-stained.
"You appear to have ridden far, Dick," said he, smiling, and Richard shivered in spite of himself at the mocking note that seemed to ring faintly at the words. "I saw your friend, Sir Rowland,
in the garden," he added. "I think he waits for you."
Though Richard could not fail to apprehend the implied dismissal, he was minded at first to disregard it. But Mr. Wilding, turning, held the door, addressing Diana.
"Mistress Horton, said he, "will you give us leave?"
Diana curtsied and passed out, and Mr. Wilding's eye falling upon the lingering Richard at that moment, Richard thought it best to follow her example. But he went with rage in his heart at being
forced to leave that precious document behind him.
As Mr. Wilding, his back to her a moment, closed the door, Ruth slipped the paper hurriedly into the bosom of her low-necked gown. He turned to her, calm but very grave, and his dark eyes seemed
to reproach her.
"This is ill done, Ruth," said he.
"Ill done, or well done," she answered him, "done it is, and shall so remain."
He raised his brows. "Ah," said he, "I appear, then, to have misapprehended the situation. From what Gervase told me, I understood it was your brother forced you to return."
"Not forced, sir," she answered him.
"Induced, then," said he. "It
would have interrupted her, but her manner dominated him. "You will leave this letter with me, Richard," she continued.
"Damn me! no . . ." he began.
"Ah, yes, Richard," she insisted. "You will give it to me, and I shall thank you for the gift. It shall prove a weapon for my salvation, never fear."
"It shall, indeed," he cried, with an ugly laugh; " when I have ridden to Exeter to lay it before Albemarle."
"Not so," she answered him. "It shall be a weapon of defence — not of offence. It shall stand as a buckler between me and Mr. Wilding. Trust me, I shall know how to use it."
"But there is Blake to consider," he expostulated, growing angry. "I am pledged to him."
"Your first duty is to me . . ."
"Tut!" he interrupted. "Blake feels that he owes it to his loyalty to lay this letter before the Lord-Lieutenant, and, for that matter, so do I."
"Sir Rowland would not cross my wishes in this," she answered him.
"Folly!" he cried, now thoroughly aroused. "Give me that letter."
"Nay, Richard," she answered, and waved him back.
But he advanced nevertheless.
"Give it me," he bade her, waxing fierce. "Gad! It was folly to have told you of it. I had not done so but that I never thought you such a fool as to oppose yourself to the thing we intend."
"Listen, Richard . . ." she besought him.
But he was grown insensible to pleadings.
"Give me that letter," he insisted, and caught her wrist. Her other hand, however — the one that held the sheet — was already behind her back.
The door was suddenly thrust open, and Diana appeared. "Ruth," she announced, "Mr. Wilding is here."
At the mention of that name, Richard let her free. "Wilding!" he ejaculated, his fierceness all blown out of him. He had imagined that already Mr. Wilding would be in full flight. Was the fellow
mad?
"He is following me," said Diana, and, indeed, a step could be heard in the passage.
"The letter!" growled Richard in a frenzy, between fear and anger now. "Give it me! Give it me do you hear?"
"Sh! You'll betray yourself," she cried. "He is here."
And at that same moment Mr. Wilding's tall figure, still arrayed in his bridegroom's finery of sky-blue satin, loomed in the doorway. He was serene and calm as ever. Neither the discovery of the
plot by the abstraction of the messenger's letter, nor Ruth's strange conduct — of which he had heard from Lord Gervase — had sufficed to ruffle, outwardly at least, the inscrutable
serenity of his air and manner. He paused to make his bow, then advanced into the room, with a passing glance at Richard still spurred and booted and all dust-stained.
"You appear to have ridden far, Dick," said he, smiling, and Richard shivered in spite of himself at the mocking note that seemed to ring faintly at the words. "I saw your friend, Sir Rowland,
in the garden," he added. "I think he waits for you."
Though Richard could not fail to apprehend the implied dismissal, he was minded at first to disregard it. But Mr. Wilding, turning, held the door, addressing Diana.
"Mistress Horton, said he, "will you give us leave?"
Diana curtsied and passed out, and Mr. Wilding's eye falling upon the lingering Richard at that moment, Richard thought it best to follow her example. But he went with rage in his heart at being
forced to leave that precious document behind him.
As Mr. Wilding, his back to her a moment, closed the door, Ruth slipped the paper hurriedly into the bosom of her low-necked gown. He turned to her, calm but very grave, and his dark eyes seemed
to reproach her.
"This is ill done, Ruth," said he.
"Ill done, or well done," she answered him, "done it is, and shall so remain."
He raised his brows. "Ah," said he, "I appear, then, to have misapprehended the situation. From what Gervase told me, I understood it was your brother forced you to return."
"Not forced, sir," she answered him.
"Induced, then," said he. "It
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