"Nay, sweet," he answered. "Moreover, keep a brave heart; we do not part
for long, for God has given us to each other. Your father does not mean
all he says, and his temper, which has been stirred to-day, will soften.
If not, we must look to ourselves. I keep a swift horse or two, Cicely.
Could you ride one if need were?"

"I have ever loved riding," she said meaningly.

"Good. Then you shall never go to that fat hog's sty, for I'll stick him
first. And I have friends both in Scotland and in France. Which like you
best?"

"They say the air of France is softer. Now, away from me, or one will
come to seek us," and they tore themselves apart.

"Emlyn, your foster-mother, is to be trusted," he said rapidly; "also
she loves me well. If there be need, let me hear of you through her."

"Aye," she answered, "without fail," and glided from him like a ghost.

"Have you been waiting to see the moon rise?" asked Sir John, glancing
at Christopher from beneath his shaggy eyebrows as he returned.

"Nay, sir, but the passages in this old house of yours are most wondrous
long, and I took a wrong turn in threading them."

"Oh!" said Sir John. "Well, you have a talent for wrong turns, and
such partings are hard. Now, do you understand that this is the last of
them?"