en would he come!

She could not keep from shading her eyes and looking along the road to
the point where it left the fir wood, though this was but the fourth
day since Hugh's departure--the day on which, by fast riding and long
hours, he might arrive at Worcester--and the ninth was the very
earliest she dared hope for his return.

How slowly, slowly, passed the days. Yet they were full of a quiet joy
and peace.

From the moment when she had stepped out into the sunshine, resolved to
go steadily forward without looking back, she had thrown herself with
zest and pleasure into investigating and arranging her house and estate.

Also, on the second day an idea had come to her with her first waking
thoughts, which she had promptly put into execution.

Taking Martin Goodfellow with her she had ridden over to Hugh's home;
had found it, as she expected, greatly needing a woman's hand and mind,
and had set to work at once on those changes and arrangements most
needed, so that all should be in readiness when Hugh, returning, would
take her home.

Under her direction the chamber which should be hers was put into
perfect order; her own things were transported thither, and all was
made so completely ready, that at any moment she and Hugh could start,
without need of baggage or attendants, and ride together home.

This chamber had two doors, the one leading down a flight of steps on
to a terrace, the other opening directly into the great hall, the
central chamber of the house.

Mora loved to stand in this doorway, looking into the noble apartment,
with its huge fireplace, massive carved chairs on either side of the
hearth, weapons on the walls, trophies of feats of arms, all those
things which made it home to Hugh, and to remember that of this place
he had said in his petition to our Lady: "Take pity on a lonely home, a
desolate hearth . . . and send her to me."

No longer should it be lonely or desolate. Aye, and no longer should
his faithful heart be hungry.

On this day she had been over for the third time, riding by the road,
because she and Martin both carried packages of garments and other
things upon their saddles; but returning by a shorter way through the
woods, silent and mossy, most heavenly cool and green.

This journey had served to complete her happy preparations. So now,
should Hugh arrive, even at sunset, and be wishful to ride on without
delay, she could order the saddling of Icon, and say: "I am read