"Or perhaps," says Lilian, "he has made his escape long ago."
"I don't think so. Indeed, I am almost sure, if you look straight along that field"—pointing in a certain direction—"you will see the young gentleman in question calmly smoking the pipe of peace upon a distant wall."
"It is he," says Lilian, in a low tone, after a careful examination of the youthful smoker. "How little he seems to fear his fate!"
"Yes, just fancy how lightly he views the thought of falling into the clutches of a monster!" remarks Chetwoode, with a mocking smile.
"I think you are a little hard on me," says Lilian, reproachfully.
"Am I?" carelessly preparing to leave her. "If you see that promising protégé of yours, Lilian, you can tell him from me that he is quite at liberty to carry on his nightly games as soon as he pleases. You have no idea what a solace that news will be to him; only, if you have any regard for him, advise him not to be caught again."
So saying, he leaves her and continues his interrupted march to the stables.
When Miss Chesney has spent a moment or two inveighing silently against the hardness and uncharitableness of men in general and Sir Guy Chetwoode in particular, she accepts the situation, and presently starts boldly for the hollow in which lies the modest homestead of the venerable Mrs. Heskett.
The unconscious cause of the battle royal that has just taken place has evidently finished his pipe and lounged away through the woods, as he is nowhere to be seen. And Miss Chesney makes up her mind, with a view to killing the time that must elapse before dinner, to go straight to his mother's cottage, and, by proclaiming Sir Guy's leniency, restore peace to the bosom of that ancient dame.
And as she walks she muses on all that has passed between herself and her guardian during the last half-hour. After all, what did she say that was so very bad?