th the
tremendous barrier of rank between them, which was like some large
breastwork protecting Mark from assault--but as man to man.

And there, a few hundred yards in advance, Mark walked rapidly on, never
once, as far as his cousin could see, looking back, though Richard felt
sure that he was aware of being followed, and was awaiting his
opportunity to get out of sight and then make for the town.

Richard knew that by running he might now overtake the young officer,
but he left this for a last resource, meaning to walk steadily on until
he caught up to Mark or forced him to turn back and meet him face to
face.

The way grew more rural and secluded, and the chalk hills, with their
sides broken up by frost and weathering, stood out white, and dotted
with patches of heath and bracken. Here and there a dense copse could
be seen, while in sheltered hollows--forming in the distance what looked
like squares worked in tapestry patterns--was a huge fabric of green,
looped and flowered, where the hops hung in luxuriant grape-like
clusters.

Every now and then Mark was lost to sight, as he plunged into some
copse, following a devious footpath, but Richard caught sight of him
again soon after. Then the quarry was missed once more, as he crossed
one of the hop-gardens; yet, always the same, Richard dogged him with
unerring patience for hours.

"What does he mean?" thought Richard at last. "He can't know I am
following him. He is simply having a long walk to keep himself in
training, and will soon turn back."

At last, about half an hour after passing a long village lying low down
in a hollow among the hills, and where there was no sign of farmhouse or
cottage anywhere in the broken, wooded landscape, Mark plunged into a
great patch of coppice, which had been cut down for hop-poles a few
years before, and had sprung up again, forming a dense wilderness of
ash, hazel, and sweet chestnut, running right up a steep, bank-like
hill, away below which, well sheltered from the north and westerly
gales, lay another of the many hop-fields, heavy with its green and
golden bines.

Here all at once Richard found himself at fault, and he stood gazing
onward, with a feeling of annoyance rapidly growing as the thought came
insistent that, after all, he was to have his long, exciting walk for
nothing.

Only a few minutes before he had seen the erect figure pass in among the
trees, and it must, he felt, be exactly where he stood; but