her brain. The natural result followed: she fell asleep.

She did not awake till they stopped to change horses; when she saw
against the stars the Baron sitting as erect as ever. 'He watches
like the Angel Gabriel, when all the world is asleep!' she thought.

With the resumption of motion she slept again, and knew no more till
he touched her hand and said, 'Our journey is done--we are in
Chillington Wood.'

It was almost daylight. Margery scarcely knew herself to be awake
till she was out of the carriage and standing beside the Baron, who,
having told the coachman to drive on to a certain point indicated,
turned to her.

'Now,' he said, smiling, 'run across to the hollow tree; you know
where it is. I'll wait as before, while you perform the reverse
operation to that you did last night.' She took no heed of the path
now, nor regarded whether her pretty slippers became scratched by the
brambles or no. A walk of a few steps brought her to the particular
tree which she had left about nine hours earlier. It was still
gloomy at this spot, the morning not being clear.

She entered the trunk, dislodged the box containing her old clothing,
pulled off the satin shoes, and gloves, dress, and in ten minutes
emerged in the cotton and shawl of shepherd's plaid.

Baron was not far off. 'Now you look the milkmaid again,' he said,
coming towards her. 'Where is the finery?'