The boy's heart began to beat so as near to sicken him after his long
fast and his ride. He told himself that his father could not have been
into the parlour yet, though he knew, even while he thought it, that
this was false comfort. He stood there an instant, waiting; hoping that
even now his father would call to him; but the strong figure passed
resolutely on out of sight.

Then the boy went into the hall, and swiftly through it. There on the
desk in the window lay the pen he had flung down last night, but no
more; the letter was gone; and, as he turned away, he saw lying among
the wood-ashes of the cold stove a little crumpled ball. He stooped and
drew it out. It was his letter, tossed there after the reading; his
father had not taken the pains to keep it safe, nor even to destroy it.




CHAPTER IV


I

The company was already assembled both within and without Padley, when
Robin rode up from the riverside, on a fine, windy morning, for the
sport of the day. Perhaps a dozen horses stood tethered at the entrance
to the little court, with a man or two to look after them, for the
greater part of their riders were already within; and a continual coming
and going of lads with dogs; falconers each with his cadge, or
three-sided frame on which sat the hawks; a barking of hounds, a