st," said she, as she rose from her
seat. "What became of Mr. Feversham after he had given you that
feather?"

"I told him that he had done everything which could be reasonably
expected; and he accepted my advice. For he went on board the first
steamer which touched at Suakin on its way to Suez and so left the
Soudan."

"I must find out where he is. He must come, back. Did he need money?"

"No. He still drew his allowance from his father. He told me that he had
more than enough."

"I am glad of that," said Ethne, and she bade Willoughby wait within the
enclosure until she returned, and went out by herself to see that the
way was clear. The garden was quite empty. Durrance had disappeared from
it, and the great stone terrace of the house and the house itself, with
its striped sunblinds, looked a place of sleep. It was getting towards
one o'clock, and the very birds were quiet amongst the trees. Indeed the
quietude of the garden struck upon Ethne's senses as something almost
strange. Only the bees hummed drowsily about the flowerbeds, and the
voice of a lad was heard calling from the slopes of meadow on the far
side of the creek. She returned to Captain Willoughby.

"You can go now," she said. "I cannot pretend friendship for you,
Captain Willoughby, but it was kind of you to find me out and tell me
your story. You are going back at once to Kingsbridge? I hope so. For I
do not wish Colonel Durrance to know of your visit or anything of what
you have told me."

"Durrance was a friend of Feversham's--his great friend," Willoughby
objected.

"He is quite unaware that any feathers were sent to Mr. Feversham, so
there is no need he should be informed that one of them has been taken
back," Ethne answered. "He does not know why my engagement to Mr.
Feversham was broken off. I do not wish him to know. Your story would
enlighten him, and he must not be enlightened."

"Why?" asked Willoughby. He was obstinate by nature, and he meant to
have the reason for silence before he promised to keep it. Ethne gave it
to him at once very simply.

"I am engaged to Colonel Durrance," she said. It was her fear that
Durrance already suspected that no stronger feeling than friendship
attached her to him. If once he heard that the fault which broke her
engagement to Harry Feversham had been most bravely atoned, there could
be no doubt as to the course which he would insist upon pursuing. He
would strip himself of her, the one thing left