my name; and yet it was
sent by my son, who was christened, if I remember rightly, Leonard!' Then
he went on, only in a cold acrid manner which made his son feel as though
a February wind was blowing on his back:

'I think there need not have been much trouble in learning to avoid
confusing our names. They are really dissimilar. Have you any
explanation to offer of the--the error, let us call it?' A bright
thought struck Leonard. 'Why, sir,' he said, 'I put it in your name as they had written to you. I
thought it only courteous.' The elder man winced; he had not expected
the excuse. We went on speaking in the same calm way, but his tone was
more acrid than before:

'Good! of course! It was only courteous of you! Quite so! But I think
it will be well in the future to let me look after my own courtesy; as
regards my signature at any rate. You see, my dear boy, a signature is
queer sort of thing, and judges and juries are apt to take a poor view of
courtesy as over against the conventions regarding a man, writing his own
name. What I want to tell you is this, that on seeing that signature I
made a new will. You see, my estate is not entailed, and therefore I
think it only right to see that in such a final matter justice is done
all round. I therefore made a certain provision of which I am sure you
will approve. Indeed, since I am assured of the payment of your debts, I
feel justified in my action. I may say, inter alia, that I congratulate
you on either the extent of your resources or the excellence of your
friendships, or both. I confess that the amounts brought to my notice
were rather large; more especially in proportion to the value of the
estate which you are some day to inherit. For you are of course to
inherit some day, my dear boy. You are my only son, and it would be
hardly--hardly courteous of me not to leave it to you. But I have put a
clause in my will to the effect that the trustee's are to pay all debts
of your accruing which can be proved against you, before handing over to
you either the estate itself or the remainder after its sale and the
settlement of all claims. That's all. Now run away, my boy; I have some
important work to do.' * * * * *

The day after her return from Heply Regis, Stephen was walking in the
wood when she thought she heard a slight rustling of leaves some way
behind her. She looked round, expecting to see some one; but the leafy
path was quite clear. Her suspicion was confirmed; some one was secretly
following her. A short process of exclusions pointed to the personality
of the some one. Tramps and poachers were unknown in Normanstand, and
there was no one else whom she could think of who had any motive in
following her in such a way; it must be Leonard Everard. She turned and
walked rapidly in the opposite direction. As this would bring her to the
house Leonard had to declare his presence at once or else lose the
opportunity of a private interview which he sought. When she saw him she
said at once and without any salutation:

'What are you doing there; why are you following me?' 'I wanted to see you alone. I could not get near you on account of that
infernal old woman.' Stephen's face grew hard. 'On account of whom?' she asked with dangerous politeness. 'Miss Rowly; your aunt.' 'Don't you think, Mr. Everard,' she said icily, 'that it is at least an
unpardonable rudeness to speak that way, and to me, of the woman I love
best in all the world?' 'Sorry!' he said in the offhand way of younger days, 'I apologise. Fact
is, I was angry that she wouldn't let me see you.' 'Not let you see me!' she said as if amazed. 'What do mean?' 'Why, I haven't been able to see you alone ever since I went to meet you
on Caester Hill.' 'But why should you see me alone?' she asked as if still in amazement. 'Surely you can say anything you have to say before my aunt.' With an
unwisdom for which an instant later he blamed himself he blurted out:

'Why, old girl, you yourself did not think her presence necessary when
you asked me to meet you on the hill.' 'When was that?' She saw that he was angry and wanted to test him; to
try how far he would venture. He was getting dangerous; she must know
the measure of what she had to fear. He fell into the trap at once. His debts being paid, fear was removed,
and all the hectoring side of the man was aroused. His antagonist was a
woman; and he had already had in his life so many unpleasant scenes with
women that this was no new experience. This woman had, by her own
indiscretion, put a whip into his hand; and, if necessary to secure his
own way, by God! he meant to use it! These last days had made her a more
desirable possession in his eyes. The vastness of her estate had taken
hold on him, and his father's remorseless intention with regard to his
will would either keep him with very limited funds, or leave him
eventually a pauper if he forestalled his inheritance. The desire of her
wealth had grown daily, and it was now the main force in bringing him
here to-day. And to this was now added the personal desire which her
presence evoked. Stephen, at all times beautiful, had never looked more
lovely. In the days since she had met him on the hilltop, a time that to
her seemed so long ago, she had grown to be a woman, and there is some
subtle inconceivable charm in completed womanhood. The reaction from her
terrible fear and depression had come, and her strong brilliant youth was
manifesting itself. Her step was springy and her eyes were bright; and
the glow of fine health, accentuated by the militant humour of the
present moment, seemed to light up her beautiful skin. In herself she
was desirable, very desirable; Leonard felt his pulses quicken and his
blood leap as he looked at her. Even his prejudice against her red hair
had changed to something like hungry admiration. Leonard felt for the
first moment since he had known her that she was a woman; and that, with
relation to her, he was a man. And at the moment all the man in him asserted itself. It was with half
love, as he saw it, and half self-assertion that he answered her
question:

'The day you asked me to marry you! Oh! what a fool I was not to leap at
such a chance! I should have taken you in my arms then and kissed you
till I showed you how much I loved you. But that will all come yet; the
kissing is still to come! Oh! Stephen, don't you see that I love you? Won't you tell me that you love me still? Darling!' He almost sprang at
her, his arms extended to clasp her. 'Stop!' Her voice rang like a trumpet. She did not mean to submit to
physical violence, and in the present state of her feeling, an embrace
from him would be a desecration. He was now odious to her; she
positively loathed him. Before her uplifted hand and those flashing eyes, he stopped as one
stricken into stone. In that instant she knew she was safe; and with a
woman's quickness of apprehension and resolve, made up her mind what
course to pursue. In a calm voice she said quietly:

'Mr.