er heart was beating
with pleasant insistence, a feeling of suppressed excitement sent the
blood gliding through her veins with delicious softness. All the time
she mocked at herself--that this should be Wilhelmina Thorpe-Hatton, to
whom the most distinguished men, not only in one capital, but in Europe,
had paid court, whom the most ardent wooer had failed to move, who had
found, indeed, in all the professions of love-making something
insufferably tedious. She was at once amused and annoyed at herself, but
an instinctive habit of truthfulness forbade even self-deception. Her
cheeks were aflame, and her heart was beating like a girl's as she
reached the spinney. She recognized the fact that she was experiencing a
new and delightful pleasure, an emotion as unexpected and ridiculous as
it was inexplicable. But she hugged it to herself. It pleased her
immensely to feel that the impossible had happened. What all this army
of men, experienced in the wiles of love-making, had failed to do, a
crazy boy had accomplished without an effort. Absolutely bizarre, of
course, but not so wonderful after all! She was so secure against any
ordinary assault. She felt herself like the heroine of one of Gautier's
novels. If he had been there himself, she would have taken him into her
arms with all the passionate simplicity of a child.

But he was not there. On the contrary, the place was looking forlorn and
deserted. The shelter had been razed to the ground--she felt that she
hated Stephen Hurd as she contemplated its ruin--the hedge was broken
down by the inrush of people a few days ago. In the absence of any
sunshine, the country around seemed bleak and colourless. She leaned
over the gate and half closed her eyes. Memory came more easily like
that!

CHAPTER XIV

SEARCHING THE PAPERS

The late Stephen Hurd had been a methodical man. Every one of those many
packets of foolscap and parchment bore in the left-hand corner near the
top a few carefully written words summarizing their contents. It was
clear from the first that Wilhelmina had undertaken not an examination
but a search. Mortgages, leases, agreements, she left unopened and
untouched. One by one she passed them back to the young man who handed
them out to her, for replacement. In the end she had retained one small
packet of letters only, on the outside of which were simply the initials
P. N. These she held for a moment thoughtfully in her hand.

"Do you happen to remem