is a crypt below," Priscilla said, "but we can't go down without
a lantern. Another day, if you cared----"

"Of course I should, above all things," declared Carfax. "I was just
going to ask when I might come again."

Their intimacy had progressed wonderfully during those hours of
companionship. The total absence of conventionality had destroyed all
strangeness between them. They were as children on a holiday, enjoying
the present to the full, and wholly careless of the future.

Not till Carfax had at length taken his leave did Priscilla ask herself
what had brought him there. Merely to view his friend's inheritance
seemed a paltry reason. Perhaps he was a journalist, or a writer of
guide-books. But she soon dismissed the matter, to ask herself a more
personal question. Was it possible that he knew her? Had he found out
her name after the New York episode, and come at last to seek her? She
could not honestly believe this, though her heart leapt at the thought.
That affair had taken place four long years before. Of course, he had
forgotten it. It could have made no more than a passing impression upon
him. Had it been otherwise, would he not have claimed her at once as an
old acquaintance?

Yes, it was plain that her first conviction must be correct. He did not
know her. The whole incident had passed completely from his memory,
crowded out, no doubt, and that speedily, by more absorbing interests.
She had flashed across his life, attaining to no more importance than a
bird upon the wing. He had saved her life at a frightful risk, and then
forgotten her very existence. She had always realised it must be so,
but, strangely, she had never resented it. In spite of it, with a
woman's queer, inexplicable faithfulness, she yet loved her hero, yet
cherished closely, fondly, the memory that she doubted not had faded
utterly from his mind.

She went to the village church with Froggy on the following day, though
fully alive to the risk she ran of being pointed out to the ignorant as
Lady Priscilla from the Abbey. She knew by some deep-hidden instinct
that he would be there, and she was not disappointed. He came in late,
and stood quite still just inside the little building, searching it up
and down with keen, quiet eyes that never faltered in their progress
till they lighted upon her. She fancied there was a faintly humorous
expression about his mouth. His look did not dwell upon her. He stepped
aside to a vacant chair close to