lled out to her in Lambert's name, not to believe all that was said of
him. She could not think of him as lying, and cheating at a game of
cards, when common sense itself told her that he was not sufficiently
conversant with its rules to turn them to his own advantage. Her
hot-headed partisanship of him gave way of necessity as the weeks sped
by, to a more passive disapproval of his condemnation, and this in its
turn to a kindly charity for what she thought must have been his
ignorance rather than his sin.

What worried her most was that he was not nigh her, now that her
sentimental romance was reaching its super-acute crisis. During her
guardian's temporary absence from Acol she had made earnest and resolute
efforts to see her mysterious lover. She thought that he must know that
Sir Marmaduke and Mistress de Chavasse were away and that she herself
was free momentarily from watchful eyes.

Yet though with pathetic persistence she haunted the park and the
woodlands around the Court, she never even once caught sight of the
broad-brimmed hat and drooping plume of her romantic prince. It seemed
as if the earth had swallowed him up.

Upset and vaguely terrified, she had on one occasion thrown prudence to
the winds and sought out the old Quakeress and Adam Lambert with whom he
lodged. But the old Quakeress was very deaf, and explanations with her
were laborious and unsatisfactory, whilst Adam seemed to entertain a
sullen and irresponsible dislike for the foreigner.

All she gathered from these two was that there was nothing unusual in
this sudden disappearance of their lodger. He came and went most
erratically, went no one knew whither, returned at most unexpected
moments, never slept more than an hour or two in his bed which he
quitted at amazingly early hours, strolling out of the cottage when all
decent folk were just beginning their night's rest, and wandering off
unseen, unheard, only to return as he had gone.

He paid his money for his room regularly, however, and this was vastly
acceptable these hard times.

But to Sue it was passing strange that her prince should be out of her
reach, just when Sir Marmaduke's and Mistress de Chavasse's absence had
made their meetings more easy and pleasant.

Yet with it all, she was equally conscious of an unaccountable feeling
of relief, and every evening, when at about eight o'clock she returned
homewards after having vainly awaited the prince, there was nothing of
the sadne