Sabina, were left behind at Oakham.

Olympias grumbled extremely at being separated from her husband, and
Filomena at being left behind. The Countess would listen to neither.

"When shall we return, under my Lady's leave?" asked Olympias,
disconsolately.

"_You_ can return," was the curt answer, "when I have done with you. I
doubt if Sir Vivian and his dame will return at all. Ada certainly will
not."

"_Ha, jolife_!" said Ada, under her breath. She did not like Oakham.

Clarice, on the contrary, was inclined to make an exclamation of horror.
For never to return to Oakham meant never to see Heliet again. And
what could the Countess mean by a statement which sounded at least as if
_she_ were not intending to return?

Concerning Felicia the Countess said nothing. That misnamed young lady
had during the past few months been trying her best to make Heliet
miserable. She began by attempting to flirt with Sir Ademar, but she
found him completely impervious material. Her arrows glanced upon his
shield, and simply dropped off without further notice. Then she took to
taunting Heliet with her lameness, but Heliet kept her temper. Next she
sneered at her religious views. Heliet answered her gently, gravely,
but held her own with undiminished calmness. This point had been
reached when the Countess's order was given to depart from Oakham.

Even those least disposed to note the signs of the times felt the
pressure of some impending calamity. The strange manner of the
Countess, the restless misery of the Earl, whom they all loved, the
busy, bustling, secretly-triumphant air of Father Miles--all denoted
some hidden working. Father Bevis had been absent for some weeks, and
when he returned he wore the appearance of a baffled and out-wearied
man.

"He looks both tired and disappointed," remarked Clarice to Heliet.

"He looks," said Heliet, "like a man who had been trying very hard to
scale the wall of a tower, and had been flung back, bruised and
helpless, upon the stones below."

During the four months last spent at Oakham, Clarice had been absolutely
silent to Heliet on the subject of her own peculiar trouble. Perhaps
she might have remained so, had it not been for the approaching
separation. But her lips were unsealed by the strong possibility that
they might never meet again. It was late on the last evening that
Clarice spoke, as she sat rocking Rose's cradle. She laid bare her
heart before Heliet's sym