l?"

Sir James looked at her keenly.

"We must leave the rest to God," he said.

The village was well awake by the time that they had finished their talk
and had had something to eat. The drama at the convent had leaked out
through the boy who served the altar there, and a little group was
assembled opposite the windows of the cottage to which the monk had been
seen to ride up an hour or two before. It seemed strange that no priest
had been near them, but it was fairly evident that the terror was too
great.

As the four came out on to the road, a clerical cap peeped for a moment
from the churchyard wall and disappeared again.

They went down towards the convent along the grey road, in the pale
autumn morning air. Mary still seemed to herself to walk in a dream,
with her father and brother on either side masquerading in strange
character; the familiar atmosphere had been swept from them, the
background of association was gone, and they moved now in a new scene
with new parts to play that were bringing out powers which she had never
suspected in them. It seemed as if their essential souls had been laid
bare by a catastrophe, and that she had never known them before.

For herself, she felt helpless and dazed; her own independence seemed
gone, and she was aware that her soul was leaning on those of the two
who walked beside her, and who were masculine and capable beyond all her
previous knowledge of them.

Behind she heard a murmur of voices and footsteps of three or four
villagers who followed to see what would happen.

She had no idea of what her father meant to do; it was incredible that
he should leave Margaret in the road with her gown and five shillings;
but it was yet more incredible that all his threats should be idle. Only
one thing emerged clearly, that he had thrown a heavier responsibility
upon Ralph than the latter had foreseen. Perhaps the rest must indeed be
left to God. She did not even know what he meant to do now, whether to
make one last effort with Ralph, or to leave him to himself; and she had
not dared to ask.

They passed straight down together in silence to the convent-gate; and
were admitted immediately by the portress whose face was convulsed and
swollen.

"They are to go," she sobbed.

Sir James made a gesture, and passed in to the tiny lodge on the left
where the portress usually sat; Chris and Mary followed him in, and Mr.
Morris went across to the guest-house.

The bell sounded