or the voices; and had not noticed he was there. I
reined up, instantly; and as he came level I plucked his sleeve.

"James," I whispered in Italian, lest Dolly should catch even a phrase
of what I said--"not a word. Go back and find the others. Leave us. We
will find our way."

James was an exceedingly discreet and sensible fellow--as I knew. He
reined back upon the instant, and was gone in the black mist; and I
could hear his horse's footsteps passing into the distance. What he
thought, God and he alone knew; for he never told me.

The soft sound of the hoofs was scarcely died away, before I too had to
pull in suddenly; for there were the haunches of Dolly's horse before
the very nose of my poor grey. She had halted; and was listening. I held
my breath.

"Anne," she said suddenly. "Anne, where are you?"

As in the Scripture--there was no voice nor any that answered. There was
no sound at all but the creaking of the harness, and the soft breathing
of the horses, for we had been coming over heavy ground. The world was
as if buried in wool.

"Anne," she said again; and I caught a note of fear in her voice.

"Cousin," said I softly, "I fear Anne is lost, and so are the rest. You
see you would not speak to me; and it was none of my business--"

"Who is that?" said she sharply. But she knew well enough.

I resolved to spare her nothing; for I was beginning to understand her a
little better.

"It is Cousin Roger," I said. "You see you said you knew the road, and
so--"

Then she lashed her horse suddenly; and I heard him plunge. But he could
not go fast, from the heaviness of the ground; and he was very weary
too, as were we all. Besides, she forgot that she carried the lantern, I
think; and I was able to follow her easily enough; as the light moved up
and down. Then the light halted once more; and I saw a great whiteness
beyond it which I could not at first understand.

I came up quietly; and spoke again.

"Dolly, my dear; we had best have a little truce--an armed truce, if you
will--but a truce. You can be angry with me again afterwards."

"You coward!" she said, with a sob in her voice, "to lead me away like
this--"

"My dear, it was you who did the leading. Do me bare justice. I have
followed very humbly."

She made no answer.

"Cousin; be reasonable," I said. "Let us find the way out of this; and
when we are clear you can say what you will--or say nothing once more."

She took me at my word, and pr