as low and intense. Hardly could she distinguish it from the
soughing of the wind in the trees. She half-turned her head to listen
as Sir Julian came toward her. But she caught the words:

"Abbe ---- will be in the coach upon thy return. Enjoin silence upon
thy nurse and be not afraid."

She thought Sir Julian looked at her suspiciously; but was quite sure
he had not seen or heard the person behind her.

Janet, while in the coach had bathed the maid's face and taken from
her the garb of disguise, and Katherine now looked her sweet self
again, flushed and thoughtful over this new adventure. She was most
like her father, ever looking for new fields to conquer. Sir Julian
asked her if she would be frightened at a severe storm. She answered
it made her somewhat nervous to be abroad.

"Then I will ride inside with thee--"

"Nay, I could not think of allowing thee. The air is too oppressive."
Sir Julian insisted, but to no avail. As they were about to leave the
inn, Katherine whispered to Janet that an Abbe would be in the coach
and enjoined silence and deaf ears.

"I did not catch his name, but I'm quite sure his voice rung like Abbe
La Fosse's. They have doubtless heard I am on my way to the castle,
and, knowing 'twould be impossible to see me there, they have taken
this way, being impatient to know how fell my suit with the King."
Janet for once had no answering word, but uttered a groan of seeming
dissent and followed her mistress, who leant upon Sir Julian's arm.

The dim light cast from the lanterns was well-nigh swallowed up in the
intense gloom. The rain was already falling rapidly and Sir Julian
opined that it was a hopeful sign, as it presaged no sudden gust that
would tear things to pieces. The door of the coach slammed to and the
horses started at gallop through the windy forest. Mistress Penwick,
now for the first time alone, that is without the surveillance of
Cantemir or Eustis, with a beloved Father of her church, flung herself
upon her knees at his side, saying:

"Beloved Father, my visit to the King was fruitless; he received me
most coldly." The Abbe lifted her from her knees as she spoke, placing
her beside him. Her face was close to his, for the noise of the
horses' hoofs and the rattling of spurs and bits and the ever-rumbling
thunder made speech difficult. His face turned toward her was hid
in the shadow of his cowl, and he drew the hood even closer as he
answered,--

"We feared it, mightily,