g for the
man who taught me--to KNOW. He never spoke to me of love. I have not one
word or look to remember. And now---- Oh, listen--listen! I have been
listening since the morning of yesterday." It was an awful thing--her
white face, with all the flame of life swept out of it.

"Don't listen--darling--darling!" Rosy cried out in anguish. "Shut your
ears--shut your ears!" And she tried to throw her arms around the high
black head, and stifle all sound with her embrace.

"I don't want to shut them," was the answer. "All the unkindness and
misery are over for him, I ought to thank God--but I don't. I shall
hear--O Rosy, listen!--I shall hear that to the end of my days."

Rosy held her tight, and rocked and sobbed.

"My Betty," she kept saying. "My Betty," and she could say no more. What
more was there to say? At last Betty withdrew herself from her arms, and
then Rosalie noticed for the first time that she wore the habit.

"Dearest," she whispered, "what are you going to do?"

"I was going to ride, and I am going to do it still. I must do
something. I shall ride a long, long way--and ride hard. You won't try
to keep me, Rosy. You will understand."

"Yes," biting her lip, and looking at her with large, awed eyes, as she
patted her arm with a hand that trembled. "I would not hold you back,
Betty, from anything in the world you chose to do."

And with another long, clinging clasp of her, she let her go.

Mason was standing by Childe Harold when she went down the broad steps.
He also wore a look of repressed emotion, and stood with bared head
bent, his eyes fixed on the gravel of the drive, listening to the heavy
strokes of the bell in the church tower, rather as if he were taking
part in some solemn ceremony.

He mounted her silently, and after he had given her the bridle, looked
up, and spoke in a somewhat husky voice:

"The order was that you did not want me, miss? Was that correct?"

"Yes, I wish to ride alone."

"Yes, miss. Thank you, miss."

Childe Harold was in good spirits. He held up his head, and blew the
breath through his delicate, dilated, red nostrils as he set out with
his favourite sidling, dancing steps. Mason watched him down the avenue,
saw the lodge keeper come out to open the gate, and curtsy as her
ladyship's sister passed through it. After that he went slowly back to
the stables, and sat in the harness-room a long time, staring at the
floor, as the bell struck ponderously on his ear.