It was a small breakfast party at the castle next morning, Sir Clement and Greybrooke being the only guests, but the baronet was so gay and morose by turns that he might have been two persons. In the middle of a laugh at some remark of the captain's, he would break off with a sigh, and immediately after sadly declining another cup of coffee from Mary, he said something humorous to her father. The one mood was natural to him and the other forced, but it would have been difficult to decide which was which. It is, however, one of the hardest things in life to remain miserable for any length of time on a stretch. When Dowton found himself alone with Mary his fingers were playing an exhilarating tune on the window-sill, but as he looked at her his hands fell to his side, and there was pathos in his fine eyes. Drawn toward her, he took a step forward, but Miss Abinger said 'No' so decisively that he stopped irresolute.
'I shall be leaving the castle in an hour,' Sir Clement said slowly.
'Papa told me,' said Mary, 'that he had prevailed upon you to remain for a week.'
'He pressed me to do so, and I consented, but you have changed everything since then. Ah, Mary——'
'Miss Abinger,' said Mary.
'Miss Abinger, if you would only listen to what I have to say. I can explain everything. I——'
'There is nothing to explain,' said Mary, 'nothing that I have either a right or a desire to hear. Please not to return to this subject again. I said everything there was to say last night.'
The baronet's face paled, and he bowed his head in deep dejection. His voice was trembling a little, and he observed it with gratification as he answered—
'Then, I suppose, I must bid you good-bye?'
'Good-bye,' said Mary. 'Does papa know you are going?'