"I have frightened you," he said, still rather hoarsely, but calmly. "Forgive me. I told you how I loved you, and you see a man doesn't tear from his heart the hope that has grown there for two years without feeling it. I am going now. You can make any excuse to your father, or you need not tell him you have seen me. Good-by—Leslie! It's the last time I shall call you so."
He held out his hand. It was firm as a rock, and gripped hers so tightly that she winced.
"I've hurt you," he said; "I, who would lay down my life to save you a moment's pain." He looked at his hand. "It was my ring. Ah!" he exclaimed, as if an idea had occurred to him, and he drew the ring from his finger. "Take this," he said, and he took her hand, opened it, and placing the ring on her palm, closed her fingers over it gently and yet firmly, as if he would accept no refusal. "If ever you need a friend, either for yourself or another, if ever you need to be avenged on a foe, send this ring to me—it will not be necessary to send a word with it—and I will come to you. Good-by!"
He raised her hand toward his lips, then with a sound that was half sigh, half groan, he let it fall, and without looking round climbed the beach and was lost to sight.
CHAPTER IV.
THE NEW DUKE.
The expression on Yorke Auchester's face as his cousin introduced him as his grace, the Duke of Rothbury beggars description.
He stared at the duke and colored, with a mixture of amazement and annoyance, which caused the duke to lean back in his chair and laugh; he did not often laugh.
"That was neatly done, Yorke," he said. "It isn't often a man is made a duke so easily."