he was, he kept from his countenance all manifestation of the deep
surprise occasioned him by the advent of Mistress Westmacott, unescorted.

"He rode... at dawn?" faltered Ruth, and for a moment she stood
irresolute, afraid and pondering in the shade of the great pillared
porch. Then she took heart again. If he rode at dawn, it was not in
quest of Richard that he went, since it had been near eleven o'clock
when she had left Bridgwater. He must have gone on other business first,
and, doubtless, before he went to the encounter he would be returning
home. "Said he at what hour he would return?" she asked.

"He bade us expect him by noon, madam."

This gave confirmation to her thoughts. It wanted more than half an
hour to noon already. "Then he may return at any moment?" said she.

"At any moment, madam," was the grave reply.

She took her resolve. "I will wait," she announced, to the man's
increasing if undisplayed astonishment. "Let my horse be seen to."

He bowed his obedience, and she followed him - a slender, graceful
figure in her dove-coloured riding- habit laced with silver - across
the stone-flagged vestibule, through the cool gloom of the great hall,
into the spacious library of which he held the door.

"Mistress Horton is following me," she informed the butler. "Will you
bring her to me when she comes?"

Bowing again in silent acquiescence, the white-haired servant closed