was now waist-high and darkly green. So much loveliness, swiftly come and swiftly gone, and she knew in her heart that this was the last time of looking upon it all, and that she would never come to Navron again. Part of her would linger there for ever: a footstep running tip-toe to the creek, the touch of her hand on a tree, the imprint of her body in the long grass. And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper of the dreams that she had dreamt there, in midsummer, under the hot sun and the white sky.
Then she turned her back on the garden, and calling to the stable-boy in the courtyard she bade him catch the cob who was in the meadow, and put a saddle on him, for she was going riding.
Chapter XXII
WHEN DONA CAME to Gweek she made straight for a little cottage almost buried in the woods, a hundred yards or so from the road, and which she knew instinctively to be the place she sought. Passing there once before she had seen a woman at the- doorway, young and pretty, and William, driving the carriage, had saluted her with his whip.
'There have been ugly rumours,' Godolphin had said, 'of young women in distress, and Dona smiled to herself, thinking of the girl's blush as she remembered it, and William's expression, his gallant bow, little guessing that his mistress had observed him.
The cottage appeared deserted, and Dona, dismounting, and knocking on the door, wondered for one moment if she had been mistaken after all. Then she heard a movement from the scrap of garden at the back, and she caught the glimpse of a petticoat disappearing into a door, and that door suddenly shutting, and the bolt being drawn. She knocked gently, and getting no answer called, 'Don't be afraid. It is Lady St. Columb from Navron.'
In a minute or two the bolt was pulled back, and the door was opened, and on the threshold stood William himself, with the flushed face of the young woman peering behind his shoulder.
'My lady,' he said, staring at her, with his button mouth twisted. She feared for one moment he was going to break down and cry. Then he stiffened, and held the door open wide. 'Run upstairs, Grace,' he said to the girl, 'her ladyship wishes to speak to me alone.'
The girl obeyed him, and Dona preceded William into the little kitchen, and sat down by the low hearth, and looked at him.
He still wore his right arm in a sling, and his head was bandaged, but he was the same William, standing before her as though he awaited her instructions for the ordering of supper.
'Prue gave me your message, William,' she said, and because he stood there so stiffly, without expression, she smiled at him with understanding. He said humbly, his eyes downcast, 'My lady, what can I say to you? I would have died for you that night, and instead I proved false, and lay like a sick child on the floor of the nursery.'
'You could not help it,' she said. 'You were weak and faint from loss of blood, and your prisoner proved too swift and cunning for you. But I have not come to talk about that, William.'
For a moment his eyes entreated her, but she shook her head. 'No questions,' she said, 'for I know what you would ask me. I am well, and strong, and quite unhurt, and what happened that night does not concern you. It is all over and put aside. Do you understand?'
'Yes, my lady, since you insist.'
'Sir Harry and Prue and the children left Navron just after noon to-day. The only thing that matters now is that we help your master. You know what happened?'
'I know, my lady, that the ship was lucky enough to escape with the crew safe aboard, but that my master lies a prisoner in the care of Lord Godolphin.'
'And time is short, William, for his lordship and the others may take the law into their own hands, and do what they would do to him-before the escort comes from Bristol. We may have a few hours only, and therefore we must work to-night.'
She made him sit down on the stool beside the hearth, and she showed the pistol she had secreted in her habit, and the knife as well. 'The pistol is loaded,' she said, 'and when I leave you now, I shall proceed to his lordship's, and somehow gain admittance to the keep. It should not prove difficult, for his lordship is a fool.'
'And then, my lady?' he asked.
'And then I shall assume that your master already has a plan prepared, and we will act upon it. He will realise the desperate importance of time, and may wish us to have horses waiting, at an hour to be decided upon.'
'That should not prove impossible, my lady. There are ways and means of procuring horses.'
'I can believe it, William.'
'The young woman who is giving me hospitality…'
'A very charming young woman, William.'
'Your ladyship is gracious. The young woman who is giving me hospitality may prove helpful over the matter of horses. You can safely leave the matter in my hands.'
'And the young woman, also, as I did Prue, when I went away with your master.'
'My lady, I declare to you most solemnly that I never touched a hair of Prue's head.'
'Probably not, William, we will not discuss it. Very well, then. The first move in the game is understood. I shall return here, after my visit to Lord Godolphin, and tell you what has been arranged.'
'Very good, my lady.'
He opened the door for her, and she stood a moment, smiling at him, before she passed into the little overgrown garden.
'We are not going to fail, William,' she said. 'In three days' time, or less than that perhaps, you will see the cliffs of Brittany. It will please you, will it not, to smell France again?'
And he would have asked her a question, but she walked swiftly down the path, and to her horse, tethered to the bough of a tree. Now that she was employed, and action was demanded of her, she felt resolute and strong, and the strange wistfulness that had come upon her as she stood alone in the garden at Navron had gone with the moment that brought it. All that belonged to the past. She rode swiftly, the sturdy cob striding out well along the muddy lane, and soon she came to the park gates of Godolphin's estate, and in the distance she saw the grey outline of his house, and the squat tower and strong walls of the keep that formed part of the mansion. There was one narrow slit in the tower, midway between the battlement and the ground, and as she passed beneath it her heart beat strongly, with sudden excitement: that must be his prison, and he might have heard the sound of her horse and, climbing to the slit, be looking down upon her.
A servant ran forward to take her horse, glancing at her in surprise, and wondering, she thought, what the Lady St. Columb of Navron could be doing in the heat of the afternoon upon a rough country cob, alone, and unattended by husband or by groom.
She passed into the long hall, enquiring whether his lordship would see her, and while she waited she looked out of the long windows on to the park, and she saw, roped apart from its fellows in the centre of the grass, a tall tree, far taller than its fellows, and there was a man upon one of the wide branches, working with a saw, calling down to a little group of men beneath.
She turned away, feeling cold suddenly, a little sick, and then she heard a footstep coming across the hall, and Lord Godolphin advanced towards her, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. 'My very humble apologies, madam,' he said, kissing her hand, 'I fear I kept you waiting, the truth is that your visit is somewhat inopportune- we are all rather concerned-the fact of the matter is that my wife is in labour, and we await the physician.'
'My dear Lord Godolphin, you must forgive me,' said Dona, 'and had I known I would never have disturbed you. But I bring messages from Harry, you see, and his apologies. Something in London necessitated his immediate return, he left at noon today with the children, and…'
'Harry left for town?' he said, in astonishment, 'but it was all arranged that he should come to-morrow. Half the countryside will be gathered here for the occasion. The men are preparing the tree, as you can see. Harry was most insistent that he must see the Frenchman hang.'
'He asked most humbly for your forgiveness,' she said, 'but the matter was really pressing. His Majesty himself, I believe, is concerned in it.'
