pace down the road. I did not
doubt that he went to seek Mistress Barbara and ask her pardon. I let
him go; he would not hurt her now. I rose myself from the green bank,
for I also had work to do.

"Will you walk with me, Simon?" asked the Vicar.

"Your pardon, sir, but I am occupied."

"Will it not wait?"

"I do not desire that it should."

For now that Fontelles was out of the way, Carford alone remained.
Barbara had not sent for me, but still I served her, and to some profit.

It was now afternoon and I set out at once on my way to the Manor. I did
not know what had passed between Barbara and Carford, nor how his
passion had been stirred by her avowal of love for me, but I conjectured
that on learning how his plan of embroiling me with Fontelles had
failed, he would lose no time in making another effort.

Fontelles must have walked briskly, for I, although I did not loiter on
the road, never came in sight of him, and the long avenue was empty when
I passed the gates. It is strange that it did not occur to my mind that
the clue to the Frenchman's haste was to be found in his last question;
no doubt he would make his excuses to Mistress Quinton in good time, but
it was not that intention which lent his feet wings. His errand was the
same as my own; he sought Carford, not Barbara, even as I. He found what
he sought, I what I did not seek, but what, once found, I could not pass
by.

She was walking near the avenue, but on the grass behind the trees. I
caught a glimpse of her gown through the leaves and my quick steps were
stayed as though by one of the potent spells that the Vicar loved to
read about. For a moment or two I stood there motionless; then I turned
and walked slowly towards her. She saw me a few yards off, and it seemed
as though she would fly. But in the end she faced me proudly; her eyes
were very sad and I thought that she had been weeping; as I approached
she thrust something--it looked like a letter--into the bosom of her
gown, as if in terror lest I should see it. I made her a low bow.

"I trust, madame," said I, "that my lady mends?"

"I thank you, yes, although slowly."

"And that you have taken no harm from your journey?"

"I thank you, none."

It was strange, but there seemed no other topic in earth or heaven; for
I looked first at earth and then at heaven, and in neither place found
any.

"I am seeking my Lord Carford," I said at last.

I knew my error as soon as I had spoken. S