ered the mask and
reflected, not without pride, on the strength and determination that had
enabled her to keep her secret. But to reveal the truth now was a
prospect altogether hateful in the eyes of Chris, and she knew the
reason. More than once had she been upon the brink of disclosure, since
recent unhappy suspicions had darkened Phoebe's life; but she had
postponed the necessary step again and again, at one thought. Her
fortitude, her apathy, her stoic indifference, broke down and left her
all woman before one necessity of confession; her heart stood still when
she remembered that Martin Grimbal must know and judge. His verdict she
did, indeed, dread with all her soul, and his only; for him she had
grown to love, and the thought of his respect and regard was precious to
her. Everybody must know, everybody or nobody. For long she could
conceive of no action clearing Will in the eyes of the wider circle who
would not be content to take his word, and yet leaving herself
uninvolved. Then the solution came. She would depart once more with the
child. Such a flight was implicit confession, and could not be
misunderstood. Martin must, indeed, know, but she would never see him
after he knew. To face him after the truth had reached his ear seemed to
Chris a circumstance too terrible to dwell upon. Her action, of course,
would proclaim the parentage of Timothy, and free Will from further
slanderings; while for herself, through tears she saw the kind faces of
the gypsy people and her life henceforth devoted to her little one.

To accentuate the significance of the act she determined to carry out
her intention that same day, and during the afternoon opportunity
offered. Her son, playing alone in the farmyard, came readily enough for
a walk, and before three o'clock they had set out. The boy's face was
badly scratched from his morning battle, but pain had ceased, and his
injuries only served as an object of great interest to Timothy. Where
water in ditch or puddle made a looking-glass he would stop to survey
himself.

A spectator, aware of certain facts, had viewed the progress of Chris
with some slight interest. Three ways were open to her, three main
thoroughfares leading out of Chagford to places of parallel or greater
importance. Upon the Moor road Will wandered in deep perturbation; on
that to Okehampton walked another man, concerned with the same problem
from a different aspect; the third highway led to Moreton; and thithe