Robin set aside Agnes on to the cadge and chose Magdalen, and Marjorie
chose Sharpie. The array was set, and all moved forward.

It was a short chase and a merry one. Two birds rose from the heather
and flew screaming, skimming low, as from behind them moved on the
shadows of death, still as clouds, with great noiseless sweeps of
sickle-shaped wings. Behind came the gallopers; Marjorie on her black
horse, Robin on Cecily, seeming to compete, yet each content if either
won, each, maybe--or at least Marjorie--desiring that the other should
win. And the wind screamed past them as they went.

Then came the stoops--together as if fastened by one string--faultless
and exquisite; and, as the two rode up and drew rein, there, side by
side on the windy turf, two fierce statues of destiny--cruel-eyed,
blood-stained on the beaks, resolute and suspicious--eyed them
motionless, the claws sunk deeply through back and head--awaiting
recapture.

Marjorie turned swiftly to the boy as he leaped off.

"In the chapel," she said, "at Padley."

Robin stared at her. Then he understood and nodded his head, as Mr.
Thomas rode up, his beard all blown about by the wind, breathless but
congratulatory.


III

It fell on Robin's mind with a certain heaviness and reproach that it