"My regiment was quartered at sea," he condescended to explain. "But in time my conscience awoke. I announced my intention of resuming my charge. My uncle was furious. My enemies were many. I was seized, thrown into this prison-house, and now my only friend fails me."
They were both silent. She ventured once to glance up at his face, and it seemed to her that his eyes were moist--though perhaps it was that her own were a little dim.
"Let us skate on," he said abruptly, with a fine air of resignation.
"By the way," he suddenly added, "I was extremely High Church, in fact almost freezingly high."
For five minutes they skated in silence, then Lady Alicia began softly, "Supposing you--you went away----"
"What is the use of talking of it?" he exclaimed, melodramatically. "Let me forget my short-lived hopes!"
"A friend who tantalises me by 'supposings'!"
"But supposing you did, Mr Beveridge, would you go back to your--did you say you had a parish?"
"I had: a large, populous, and happy parish. It is my one dream to sit once more on its council and direct my curate."
"Of course that makes a difference. Mr Candles didn't know all this."
They had come by this time to the corner of a little island that lay not far from the shore; in the channel ahead a board labelled "Danger" marked a hidden spring; behind them the shining ice was almost bare of skaters, for all but Dr Escott seemed to be leaving; on the bank they could see Moggridge prowling about in the gathering dusk, a vigilant reminder of captivity. Mr Beveridge took the whole scene in with, it is to be feared, a militant rather than an episcopal eye. Then he suddenly asked, "Are you alone?"
He took out his watch and made a brief calculation.
"Go now, call at Clankwood or do anything else you like, and pass down the drive again at a quarter to five."
This sudden pinning of her irresolution almost took Lady Alicia's breath away.
"My dear friend," he interrupted, "in the hour of action only a fool ever says. Come on."
And while she still hesitated they were off again.
"My dearest friend," he whispered, "and my dear old vicarage!"
He gave her no time to protest. Her skates were off, she was on her way to her carriage, and he was striking out again for the middle of the lake before she had time to collect her wits.