in one hour."

The soldier nodded at him; but still said nothing; and Lackington lifted
the valise and went off too under the archway.

* * * *

That same morning Lady Maxwell in her room in the Hall at Great Keynes
awoke early before dawn with a start. She had had a dream but could not
remember what it was, except that her son James was in it, and seemed to
be in trouble. He was calling on her to save him, she thought, and awoke
at the sound of his voice. She often dreamt of him at this time; for the
life of a seminary priest was laid with snares and dangers. But this
dream seemed worse than all.

She struck a light, and looked timidly round the room; it seemed still
ringing with his voice. A great tapestry in a frame hung over the
mantelpiece, Actaeon followed by his hounds; the hunter panted as he ran,
and was looking back over his shoulder; and the long-jawed dogs streamed
behind him down a little hill.

So strong was the dream upon the old lady that she felt restless, and
presently got up and went to the window and opened a shutter to look out.
A white statue or two beyond the terrace glimmered in the dusk, and the
stars were bright in the clear frosty night overhead. She closed the
shutter and went back again to bed; but could not sleep. Again and again
as she was dozing off, something would startle her wide awake again:
sometimes it was a glimpse of James' face; sometimes he seemed to be
hurrying away from her down an endless passage with closed doors; he was
dressed in something crimson. She tried to cry out, her voice would not
rise above a whisper. Sometimes it was the dream of his voice; and once
she started up crying out, "I am coming, my son." Then at last she awoke
again at the sound of footsteps coming along the corridor outside; and
stared fearfully at the door to see what would enter. But it was only the
maid come to call her mistress. Lady Maxwell watched her as she opened
the shutters that now glimmered through their cracks, and let a great
flood of light into the room from the clear shining morning outside.

"It is a frosty morning, my lady," said the maid.

"Send one of the men down to Mistress Torridon," said Lady Maxwell, "and
ask her to come here as soon as it is convenient. Say I am well; but
would like to see her when she can come."

There was no priest in the house that Sunday, so there could be no mass;
and on these occasions Mistress Marg