Barbara had become so accustomed to Sydney Fellowes' sudden and
changeable moods that she thought little of his words, or his manner of
leaving her. Yet, to the man had come a sudden flash of repentance, not
lasting but real enough for the moment, holding him until the next
temptation came in his path. He did not seek his companions, but crossed
one of the bridges, and plunged into the woods, cursing himself and
feeling out of tune with the rest of the world. Two hours later he and
Lord Rosmore came back together, slowly, and talking eagerly. Fellowes,
like many other quite young men, had a profound admiration for Lord
Rosmore, and his opinion upon any matter carried weight.
"You have not sufficient faith in yourself, Fellowes," Rosmore said as
they crossed the bridge. "That is the trouble."
"It is easily remedied," was the answer.
"That is the spirit which brings victory," said Rosmore, patting his
companion on the shoulder.
The guests who had arrived during the last two or three days had
introduced a noisier and wilder element into the Abbey. Barbara was
puzzled at her uncle's attitude, and retired from the company as much as
possible.
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