ubert was on his way upstairs to his room that evening when he met his cousin, coming down from the schoolroom. She said, "Hubert! The very person I wanted! Wait, I have something for you!" She then went into her own room, and came back in a minute or two, looking mischievous, and said, "Shut your eyes, and stretch out your hand!"

"Now, Sophy, is this something horrid?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Of course it is not!"

"Well, you look as though you meant to hoax me," he said, but he obediently shut his eyes and held out one hand. Sophy placed his ring and his bond in it, and told him he might now open his eyes. He did so, and suffered so severe a shock that he dropped the ring. "Sophy!"

"What a careless creature you are!" she remarked. "Don't neglect to burn that silly piece of paper! I very nearly did it myself, for I am sure it would be just like you to leave it in your pocket, but then I thought you would like to see for yourself that it really has been recovered."

He bent to pick the ring up. "B-but, Sophy, how--who--how came this into your hands?"

"I had it from your Mr. Goldhanger, of course."

He gave a gasp. "Had it from-- You did not go to that old devil's house! You could not have done so!"

"Yes, I did. What should stop me?"

"Good God!" he ejaculated. He grasped her wrist, and said sharply, "Why did he give it up to you? Do you tell me you paid him the money I owed him?"

"Oh, don't give that a thought! I happened to have five hundred pounds by me, and you will pay me back sometime, I expect. There is no need to look so shocked, you silly boy!"

"Sophy, I cannot bear it!" he said, in a strangled voice. "Besides, he lent it to me at fifteen per cent per month, and I know well he would never have parked with my bond for a penny less than was his due! Sophy, tell me the truth!"

"I have done so. Of course, he did not like it very much, but he was obliged to do what I wanted, because I told him I should go to Bow Street if he refused. I think you were very right about him, Hubert! He is probably in league with every thief in London, for the instant I made that threat I could see how uneasy I had made him, so very likely he does not at all wish to be brought under the notice of the magistrates."

"Goldhanger allowed himself to be frightened into giving up these things? Goldhanger?" he said incredulously.

"Well, what else could he do? I told him it was nonsensical to suppose that anything very dreadful would happen to you, if the whole matter was laid bare; and he knew that if I did go to Bow Street he would never be able to recover a penny of his money."

"You with that slimy villain! Were you not afraid, Sophy?" he asked wonderingly.

"No, not a bit." She added apologetically, "You know, I haven't the least sensibility! Sir Horace says it is quite shocking, and most unfeminine. But, to own the truth, I thought Goldhanger was a ridiculous person. I was by far more afraid of El Moro! He was one of the guerrilleros and a dreadful rogue! He and his men broke into the house one night when Sir Horace was away--but never mind that! People who are forever recounting their adventures are the most tedious persons imaginable!"

"Sophy, he might have done you some mischief--!"

"Yes, but I had my pistol with me, so he very soon thought better of that notion!" she explained.

"Sophy, Sophy, what am I to do?" he exclaimed.

"Nothing. There is nothing left to be done. I must go, or I shall be late for dinner. Don't forget to burn that paper!"

She vanished into her room, cutting short his stammered thanks and protestations, and since he did not see her alone again that night he was unable to repeat them. He was engaged with a party of his own, but his friends found him in an unconvivial mood. His thoughts were, indeed, in a sad turmoil, and although his relief at being rid of his debt to Goldhanger had been at first overwhelming, it was succeeded, as soon as he had had time to think the matter over, by a most uncomfortable feeling of guilt. That Sophy, a mere female (and younger than himself) should not only have paid off his debt, but should also have visited on his behalf such a person as Goldhanger, made him squirm in his chair. Blue Ruin did little to clear his intellect, and when he sought Berkeley Square in the early hours of the morning he was no nearer a solution of this new difficulty than he had been at the start of the evening, the only coherent thought in his head being that in some undiscovered way he must instantly pay his cousin five hundred pounds.

Mr. Rivenhall returned from Leicestershire on the following day, arriving in Berkeley Square at a somewhat infelicitous moment. Jane Storridge, whose vigilance Sophy had not sufficiently taken into account, had not only discovered that the diamond drops were missing from her mistress's jewel case, but had raised such a hue and cry in the servants' quarters that Mrs. Ludstock, the housekeeper, felt herself called upon to inform Lady Ombersley that while she was sure she did not know what servants were coming to these days she would take her dying oath that none of the maids under her control had touched Miss Sophy's earrings; and, further, that anybody might be pardoned for thinking that a lady's maid worthy of the name would take better care of her mistress's valuables than Miss Storridge seemed to suppose was necessary. With the gist of these remarks Dassett also wished to be identified, and so pregnant with unuttered offence was his manner that Lady Ombersley became quite flustered, realizing that she stood upon the brink of a domestic disaster. She sent for Jane Storridge, and Mr. Rivenhall arrived in time to hear the end of a dialogue between the three servants so icily civil, so bristling with veiled innuendo as to terrify poor Lady Ombersley. Before he had the opportunity of demanding an explanation, Sophy herself came in, in her walking dress, saying that she and Cecilia were going out to do some shopping, and had her aunt any commissions for them? Lady Ombersley greeted her with relief, and at once asked her why she had not disclosed the loss of her earrings.

Sophy did not start, but a very slight flush rose to her cheeks. She replied with perfect composure, "I have not lost any earrings, dear ma'am. What is this?"

"Oh, my love, your maid says that your diamond drops are gone from your case, and I would not have had such a thing happen for the world!"

Sophy bent to kiss her cheek. "Aunt Lizzie, I am so sorry! It is quite my fault for having been so stupid as to forget to tell Jane! They are not lost. I took them to the jeweler to be cleaned and reset. One of the hooks was a little loose. How foolish of you to have worried her ladyship, Jane, before first asking me if I knew where the earrings were!"

"Cleaned?" cried Miss Storridge. "Why, Miss Sophy, as though I did not take all your jewels to Rundell and Bridge to be cleaned when we first came to London!"

"Yes, but I thought on the night of our ball that those drops looked quite dull," responded Sophy. "Go away now, Jane; her ladyship has been plagued enough!"

She was aware of her cousin's eyes upon her face, and a swift glance in his direction had informed her that there was an uncomfortably searching expression in them. However, he said nothing, so she got rid of her maid, ascertained that her aunt had no commissions for her to execute and went off, devoutly trusting that neither she nor Mr. Rivenhall would notice the continued absence of her diamond earrings.

But on the following day, just as she had sat down to a light luncheon with Lady Ombersley, Cecilia, Selina, and Hubert, Mr. Rivenhall walked into the room and handed her a small package. "Your earrings, Cousin," he said briefly. "I think you will find that they have now been cleaned to your satisfaction."

For once in her life, Sophy was bereft of all power of speech. Fortunately, he did not seem to expect her to say anything, for he turned away to carve himself a slice of ham and began to talk to his mother, desiring to know whether she wished to spend any part of the summer in Brighton that year. Lady Ombersley referred this question to Sophy. Brighton did not agree with her constitution, but the Regent had made the resort so fashionable that any number of distinguished persons would flock there in June, and if Sophy wished it she would certainly hire a house there for some part of the season.

Cecilia, who had her own reasons for wanting to remain in town, said, "Oh, Mama, you know you are never well in Brighton! Pray do not let us go! I am sure there is nothing more stupid than those parties at the Pavilion, and the excessive heat in the rooms quite knocks you out!"

Sophy at once disclaimed any wish to visit the place; and the rest of the meal was spent in discussing the rival attractions of Ombersley, Thorpe Grange, and Scarborough, with some reminiscences from Lady Ombersley on a summer she had spent at Ramsgate before the Regent's patronage of Brighton had quite cast this resort into the shade.

When they rose from the table, Hubert, who had been trying unavailingly for some time to get his cousin alone, blurted out, "Are you busy, Sophy? Would you care to stroll in the garden for a while?"

"Thank you! By and by, perhaps! Charles, may I have a word with you at your convenience?"

He met her direct gaze unsmilingly. "By all means! Now, if you wish."

Lady Ombersley looked vaguely surprised; Selina exclaimed, "Secrets! Are you hatching a plot, I wonder? Shall we like it?

"Nothing so exciting," replied Sophy lightly. "Merely, Charles executed a commission for me."

She accompanied him across the hall to the library. She was never one to beat about the bush, and no sooner had he shut the door than she said, without preamble, "Now, if you please, tell me what this means? How did you know that I had sold my earrings, and why have you--as I suppose--bought them back for me?"

"I bought them back because I can think of only two reasons why you should have disposed of them."

"Indeed! And what may they be, Cousin Charles?"

"I have never been permitted to see the bills for your ball, but I have some experience in these matters, and I can possibly guess at a rough total. If that is your explanation, you can want none from me. The arrangement was repugnant to me from the outset, as well you know."

"My dear Charles, I have a great many expenses of which you know nothing at all! You are being absurd, you know!"

"I do not think that you have any expenses which your father would be unprepared to meet."

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, "You have not yet told me what is the second of the reasons that occurred to you."

He looked at her under frowning brows. "My fear is that you have lent the money to Hubert."

"Good gracious! Banish it!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Pray, why should I do such a thing?"

"I hope you have not. The young fool was at Newmarket with a set of fellows I could wish at Jericho. Did he lose a large sum there?"

"Surely he would tell you if he had, rather than me!"

He walked over to his desk and rather absently tidied some papers that lay on it. "It may have been that he was afraid to," he said. He looked up. "Was that it?"

"I needed the money for reasons into which I will not take you," she replied. "I must point out to you, Charles, that you have not yet answered my other question. How did you guess that I had sold the earrings?"

"It was not a conjecture. I knew."

"How is this possible? You were not hidden in the shop, I assume!"

"No, I was not. But I called in Brook Street on my way home yesterday and saw Miss Wraxton." He hesitated, and again looked across at his cousin. "You must understand that Miss Wraxton felt it to be her duty to tell me that she feared you might be in some difficulty! She was in Rundell and Bridge's with Lady Brinklow when you were transacting this sale. It appears that Bridge had not properly closed the door into his office; Miss Wraxton recognized your voice, and could not help but overhear something you said to Bridge."

Her hand, which was lying on the back of a chair, closed tightly on the polished wood, but relaxed again after a moment. She said, in a voice from which all emotion had been banished, "There is no end to Miss Wraxton's solicitude. How very obliging of her to have interested herself in my affairs! I expect it was delicacy that forbade her to speak to me rather than to you."

He flushed. "You must remember that I am betrothed to Miss Wraxton. In the circumstances, she thought it her duty to mention the matter to me. She felt that she did not stand upon such terms with you as could make it possible for her to ask you for an explanation."

"Well, that is certainly true," said Sophy. "Neither of you, my dear Cousin, stands upon such terms with me! And if you have any notion of asking me for an explanation of anything I choose to do, let me tell you that you may go to the devil!"

He smiled. "Then perhaps it is as well that Eugenia did not venture to address you on this head, for she would have been much shocked at being told to go to the devil. Do you always talk like your father when you lose your temper, Sophy?"

"No, not invariably. I beg your pardon! But it was quite intolerable!"

"I daresay, but I should not have asked you for an explanation had you not sought this interview."

"You should have paid no heed to Miss Wraxton! As for repurchasing my earrings, good God, what a fix you have placed me in!"

As she spoke, the door opened behind her, and Hubert came into the room. He was looking extremely white, but perfectly determined, and he said jerkily, "I beg pardon, but I have been wanting to speak to you all day, Sophy, and--and to Charles! So I have come!"

Mr. Rivenhall said nothing, nor did he cast him more than one of his penetrating glances, but Sophy turned and held out her hand. "Yes, pray come in, Hubert!" she said, smiling at him.

He took her hand, and pressed it a little convulsively. "Cecilia told me about your earrings, and all the kickup-- Sophy, was it that? For if it was, and indeed, in any event I can't and I won't stand it! I had rather by far tell Charles the whole!"

Her hand returned the pressure of his before releasing it. She said in her calm way, "Well, you know, Hubert, I always thought you made a mistake not to tell Charles, for Mr. Wychbold told me once that there was no one he would liefer go to in a fix. And if he could trust him, how much more reason must you have to do so! I am persuaded you will do much better without me, so I will leave you."

She did not look at Mr. Rivenhall to see what effect her words might have had on him but walked immediately out of the room.

There had been an effect; Mr. Rivenhall said quietly, "I think I know what it is, but tell me, Newmarket?"

"It is worse than that! Oh, yes, I lost at Newmarket, but that's the least part of it!" Hubert said.

Mr. Rivenhall nodded to a chair. "Sit down. What's the worst part of it?"

Hubert did not avail himself of this invitation. Apprehension made him assume a belligerent tone that in no way expressed his feelings. "You may as well know that I didn't tell you the whole of my debts, last year!"

"Young fool!" commented his brother, without heat.

"I know that, but you said-- Oh, well, it doesn't signify talking of that now!"

"You should know I don't mean all I say when I am angry. However, if my tongue's to blame, I'm sorry for it. Go on!"

"I know I ought to have told you," Hubert muttered. "And I wish to God I had, instead of--" He broke off, drew a breath, and started again. "I thought I might be able to come about. I--you won't like this! You need not tell me it was wrong, for I know that! But other fellows--"

"Well, I won't tell you it was wrong, then. But let me know what it was, for I am quite in the dark as yet!"

"I went with--a man I know--to a--a place in Pall Mall. And another in St. James's Place. Roulette, and French Hazard! And I lost the devil of a sum of money!"

"Oh, my God!" Mr. Rivenhall exclaimed sharply. "Have we not had enough of that in this family?"

The bitterness in his voice, grown suddenly harsh, made Hubert wince and retire behind a barrier of sullenness. "Well, I knew you would be in a rage, but I don't see that it was so very bad! I wish I had not had such infamous luck, but everyone plays, after all!"

It seemed for a moment as though his brother would have returned a stinging answer, but he checked himself and walked over to the window instead, and stood frowning out. After a pause, he said abruptly, "Do you know the sum of my father's gaming debts?"

Hubert was surprised, for the subject had never before been mentioned between them. He replied, "No. That is, I do know that they must have been rather heavy, of course, but I never heard the exact sum."

Mr. Rivenhall told him.

There was a stunned silence. Hubert broke it at last. "But--but-- My God, Charles! You're--you're not bamming me, are you?"

Mr. Rivenhall have a short laugh.

"But-- Charles, you did not pay all that!'

"Hardly. I settled some part, but the estate is still grossly encumbered. I need not take you into all that. Now that my father has given the management into my hands I have a reasonable hope of being able to tow the family out of the river Tick. But compounding with creditors, spending my life contriving ways and means with our man of business is the very devil!"

"Good God, I should rather think it would be! Listen, Charles, I'm damned sorry I should have added to it all!"

Mr. Rivenhall came back to the desk. "Yes, I know. Your debt is no great matter, but if gaming is in your blood as well--"

"Well, it ain't! You needn't fear for that, for I don't care for cards above half, and I can assure you I had no pleasure in going to those damned hells!" He took a turn about the room, a frown slowly gathering on his brow. He stopped suddenly, and exclaimed, "Why didn't you tell me? Dash it, I'm not a child! You should have told me!"

Mr. Rivenhall looked at him, half smiling. "Yes, perhaps I should," he said mildly. "But the fewer people to know the better. Even my mother does not know the whole."

"Mama! No, indeed! I should think not! But I had a right to be told, instead of being allowed to go on as though-- It is just like you, Charles, to shoulder everything, and to suppose no one can do the least thing but yourself! I daresay there might be a dozen ways in which I could help you! It seems to me that I ought to come down from Oxford at once, and find an eligible post somewhere, or join the army--no, that won't do, because you would have to buy me a commission, and even if I didn't join a cavalry regiment, or the Guards--"

"It certainly will not do!" interrupted his brother, amused, and rather touched. "You'll oblige me by staying where you are! We are not on our last legs yet. Why, you bacon-brained young idiot, what do you suppose my object is but to see that you and Theodore and the girls don't suffer through my father's curst folly? If you choose to help me to run the estate, you may do so, and I shall be grateful, for Eckington is growing past it. I can't be rid of him, for he has been with us so long that I daresay it would break his heart, but he is of very little use, and I've no great degree of confidence in young Badsey yet. Have you a head for business?"

"I don't know, but I'll precious soon learn!" replied Hubert with determination. "When I come down for the long vacation, you may teach me. And, mind, Charles! No keeping me in the dark!"

"No, very well. But you are still keeping me a little in the dark, you know. When did you lose all this money? Not lately, surely?"

"At Christmas. Well, I had better make a clean breast of the whole! I went to a rascally moneylender, and I borrowed five hundred from him, for six months. I thought I should have won every penny back, and more beside at Newmarket. But the damnable screw was unplaced!" He saw his brother's expression, and said, "You need not look like that! I swear I shall never do so again as long as I live! Of course I ought to have come rather to you, but--"

"You should have come to me, and that you did not must have been far more my fault than yours!"

"Oh, well, I don't know that!" Hubert said uncomfortably. "I expect if I had been rather better acquainted with you I should have done so. Sophy said I should do so from the start, and Lord, if I'd had the least notion of what she meant to do I would have run to you straight away!"

"Then you did not apply to her for the money?"

"Good God, no! Charles, you can't think I would borrow money from Sophy?"

"I didn't think it. But neither did I think we were so ill acquainted that-- Well, never mind that! How did Sophy know of this, and if you did not borrow the money from her, why did she sell her earrings?"

"She guessed I was all to pieces. She made me tell her, and when I said I had rather not say a word to you, she offered to lend me the money. Of course I refused! But she knew where Goldhanger lived, and, without telling me what she meant to do, she went to see him herself, and got back my note of hand, and my ring. I had to pledge Grandfather Stanton-Lacy's emerald, you see. I don't know how she did it, for she swears he did not pay the old devil a penny of the interest. She is the most redoubtable girl! But I couldn't stand that, as you may suppose!"

"Sophy went to a moneylender?" repeated Mr. Rivenhall incredulously. "Nonsense! She cannot have done such a thing!"

"Well, she ain't one to tell fibs, and that's what she said!" declared Hubert.

Not many minutes later, Sophy, reading in the Yellow Parlour, was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Rivenhall, who came in and closed the door behind him, saying bluntly, "I seem to be very much in your debt, Cousin. Yes, Hubert has told me the whole. I hardly know what I can say to you."

"You are not at all in my debt," replied Sophy. "You have given me back my earrings! There is nothing to be said, in fact! Do you know that Miss Wraxton is in the drawing room with your mother? Lord Bromford, too, which is why I have sought refuge here."

"There is a great deal to be said," he replied, disregarding. "I wish to God you had told me!"

"I am persuaded you could not seriously expect me to betray Hubert's confidence to you. You must not think, however, that I encouraged him to keep you in the dark. I advised him most earnestly to tell you the fix he was in, but he seemed to be in such dread of doing so that I might not persist." She saw a slightly rigid look on his face, and added, "I believe it is often so, between brothers, where there is a considerable disparity of age. And you are very formidable, upon occasion, are you not?"

"It seems so, indeed. Don't imagine I am not grateful to you, Sophy! I don't know by what means you discovered the coil he had tangled himself in--"

"Oh, it was not so difficult! The poor boy has been looking quite hagridden ever since I came to London! After his return from Newmarket, it was plain to be seen that something of a disastrous nature must have befallen him. He did not wish to confide in me, but a threat to tell you of my suspicions brought the whole, stupid story out."

He looked at her, his eyes hard and bright. "I know well it is I who should have noticed there was something preying on Hubert's mind!"

He was evidently deeply mortified; she said, "You have many other things to think about, perhaps. Men do not notice as quickly as women do. I am very glad that he has told you all. Don't refine too much upon it. I am quite sure that he has had a lesson he will be on no danger of forgetting."

"I believe you are right. I was used to think him as volatile as--well, I was used to think him volatile, but he has given me reason to indulge the hope that I was mistaken! But, Sophy, I don't yet know the whole of this deplorable business! Whom did you employ in it?"

"No one, upon my honor!" she assured him at once. "I considered the matter from every aspect, and although I was much inclined, at first, to consult my father's lawyer, I soon saw that it would not do. There was no one I could apply to without divulging Hubert's part in the business. So I set about it myself!"

"Sophy, you cannot have gone to this creature yourself!"

"Yes, I did. Oh, I know it was dreadfully fast and bold of me, but I thought nobody would ever know! And then, too, I could not but reflect how much you must dislike Hubert's affairs becoming known outside our immediate circle."

She saw that he was looking at her in patent disbelief, and raised her brows inquiringly.

"Hubert has told me enough about Goldhanger to make it perfectly plain to me what sort of man he is!" he said. "Do not tell me he willingly relinquished a note of hand and a valuable pledge to you for no more than the bare principal!"

She smiled. "Most unwillingly! But only consider at what a disadvantage he stood! He had lent his money to a minor and he could not recover a penny of it, at law. I fancy he was glad to see back his principal. The instant I said I would go to Bow Street--a shot drawn at a venture, too--I could see that I had discomposed him. My dear Charles, what Hubert found to alarm him in such a creature I cannot imagine! A bogey to frighten children!"

He was watching her closely, his brows knot. "This sounds to me pure fantasy, Sophy! From what I collect, this was no accredited money lender, but an out-and-out villain! Do you tell me he made no effort to extort his interest from you?"

"No, he tried to frighten me into paying him or giving him my pearl earrings. But Hubert had warned me with what manner of person I should have to deal, and I took the precaution of carrying my pistol with me."

"What?"

She was surprised, and again raised her brows. "My pistol," she repeated.

His mortification again found expression in disbelief. "This must be nonsense! I wish you will tell me the truth! You do not ask me to believe that you carry a pistol about your person! I tell you now that I do not believe it!"

She got up quickly, a sparkle in her eye. "Indeed? Wait! I shall not be gone above a minute or two!"

She whisked herself out of the room, only to reappear very soon afterward with her silver-mounted gun in her hand. "Do you not believe it, Charles? Do you not?" she demanded.

He stared at the weapon. "Good God! You?" He held out his hand, as though he would have taken it from her, but she withheld it.

"Take care! It is loaded!"

He replied impatiently, "Let me see it!"

"Sir Horace," said Sophy provocatively, "told me always to be careful and never to give it into the hands of anyone I was not perfectly satisfied could be trusted to handle it."

For an astounded moment Mr. Rivenhall, who was no mean shot, stared at her. The pent-up emotions in his breast got the better of him. He flung over to the fireplace and ripped down from the overmantel an invitation card that had been stuck into a corner of the large, gilded mirror. "Hold that up, stand there and give me that gun!" he commanded. Sophy laughed and obeyed, standing quite fearlessly with her back to the wall, and holding the card out by one corner. "I warn you, it throws a trifle left!" she said coolly.

He was white with anger, an anger that had very little to do with her slighting reference to his ability to handle a pistol, but even as he leveled the gun, he seemed in some measure to recollect himself, for he lowered his arm again, and said, "I cannot! Not with a pistol I don't know!"

"Faintheart!" mocked Sophy.

He cast her a glance of dislike, stepped forward to twitch the card out of her hand, and stuck it against the wall under the corner of a picture. In great interest, Sophy watched him walk away to the other end of the room, turn, jerk up his arm, and fire. An explosion, deafening in the confined space of the room, shattered the stillness, and the bullet, nicking one edge of the card, buried itself in the wall.

"I told you that it threw left," Sophy reminded him, critically surveying his handiwork. "Shall we reload it so that I may show you what can do?"

They looked at one another. The enormity of his conduct suddenly dawned on Mr. Rivenhall, and he began to laugh. "Sophy, you--you devil!"

That made Sophy laugh too, so when a startled crowd of persons burst into the room a minute or two later, they found only a scene of unbridled mirth. Lady Ombersley, Cecilia, Miss Wraxton, Lord Bromford, Hubert, one of the footmen, and two housemaids all clustered in the doorway, evidently in the expectation of beholding the results of a shocking accident.

"I could murder you, Sophy!" said Mr. Rivenhall.

"Unjust! Did I tell you to do it?" she countered. "Dear Aunt Lizzie, do not look so alarmed! Charles was--was merely satisfying himself that my pistol was in order!"

By this time the eyes of most of the company had discovered the rent in the wall. Lady Ombersley, clutching Hubert's arm for support, faintly enunciated, "Are you mad, Charles?"

He looked a little guiltily at the havoc he had wrought. "I must be, I suppose. The damage can soon be made good, however. It does throw left, Sophy. I would give much to see you fire it! What a pity I cannot take you to Manton's!"

"Is that Sophy's pistol?" asked Hubert, much interested. "By Jupiter, you are an out-and-outer, Sophy! But what possessed you to fire it here, Charles? You must be mad!"

"It was, naturally, an accident," pronounced Lord Bromford. "A man in his senses, which we cannot doubt Rivenhall to be, does not, of intent, fire a pistol in the presence of ladies. My dear Miss Stanton-Lacy, you have sustained a severe shock to the nerves! It could not be otherwise. Let me beg you to repose yourself for a while!"

"I am not such a poor creature!" Sophy replied, her eyes still brimming with laughter. "Charles will bear me out, if there is any truth in him, that I neither squeaked nor jumped! Sir Horace nipped such bad habits in the bud by soundly boxing my ears!"

"I am sure you are always an example to us all!" said Miss Wraxton acidly. "One can only envy you your iron composure! I, alas, am made of weaker stuff and must confess to have been very much startled by such an unprecedented noise in this house. I do not know what you can have been about, Charles. Or is it indeed Miss Stanton-Lacy's pistol, and was she exhibiting her skill to you?"

"On the contrary! It was I who shot disgracefully wide of my mark. May I clean this for you, Sophy?"

She shook her head and held out her hand for the gun. "Thank you, but I like to clean and load it myself."

"Load it?" gasped Lady Ombersley. "Sophy, you do not mean to load that horrid thing again, surely?"

Hubert laughed. "I said she was a redoubtable girl, Charles! I say, Sophy, do you always keep it loaded?"

"Yes, for how can one tell when one may need it, and what is the use of an empty pistol? You know what a delicate business it is, too! I daresay Charles can do it in a trice, but I cannot!"

He gave the gun into her hand. "If we go down to Ombersley this summer, we much have a match, you and I," he said. As their hands met, and she took the gun, his grasped her wrist and held it for a moment. "An infamous thing to have done," he said, in a slightly lowered tone. "I beg your pardon--and I thank you!"