would go well; the travellers, or rather the leader (for Robin spoke
not one word, good or bad), said that he was sure it would be so; there
was not one-tenth of the difficulty in getting out of England as of
getting into it. Then, again, he said that it was late; that he had
still one or two matters to arrange; that they must be out of London as
soon as the gates opened. And the scene ended.

Robin bowed to the two ladies, precisely and courteously; making no
difference between them, and wheeled and went out, and she saw Dick's
face, too, vanish from the door, and heard the voices of the two on the
stairs. Marjorie returned the salute of Mr. Ballard, longing to entreat
him to take good care of the boy, yet knowing that she must not and
could not.

Then he, too, was gone, with Anthony to see him downstairs; and
Marjorie, without a word, went straight through to her room, fearing to
trust her own voice, for she felt that her heart was gone with them.
Yet, not for one moment did even her sensitive soul distrust any more
the nature of the love that she bore to the lad.

But Mistress Alice sat down again to her sewing.

CHAPTER V

I

Marjorie was sitting in her mother's room, while her mother slept. She
had been reading aloud from a bundle of letters--news from Rheims; but
little by little she had seen sleep come down on her mother's face, and
had let her voice trail away into silence. And so she sat quiet.

* * * * *

It seemed incredible that nearly a year had passed since her visit to
London, and that Christmas was upon them again. Yet in this remote
country place there was little to make time run slowly: the country-side
wheeled gently through the courses of the year; the trees put on their
green robes, changed them for russet and dropped them again; the dogs
and the horses grew a little older, a beast died now and again, and
others were born. The faces that she knew, servants and farmers, aged
imperceptibly. Here and there a family moved away, and another into its
place; an old man died and his son succeeded him, but the mother and
sisters lived on in the house in patriarchal fashion. Priests came and
went again unobserved; Marjorie went to the sacraments when she could,
and said her prayers always. But letters came more frequently than ever
to the little remote manor, carried now by some farm-servant, now left
by strangers, now presented as credentials; and Booth's Edge