or us all, and somebody must go with her, you
know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me."

Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand
beseechingly upon his arm.

"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your
carriage?"

"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to
walk."

Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs.
Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to
everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs.
Goddard better than the walk with himself.

But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps
could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly
Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy
and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It
was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the
morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and
John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these
things consumed some time.

The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage,
not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered
back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were
occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked
up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the
driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering
where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he
walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not
overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it.
By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind
him, entered the park alone.

CHAPTER XIX.

John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the
vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she
betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave
face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid
since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about
him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to
offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and
had been very much surprised at the squire's