"
Pomphrey was a-road; the clatter of bit and spur brought a smile to
Constance' face, and she cried forth with all the venom in her poor,
foul being:
"Two mad fools,--both gone crazy over a convent wench, who is now my
Lady Cantemir--my cousin,--the wife of a fortune hunter!" She fled
within doors like one pursued and stopped not until she reached her
own chamber.
Midnight approached phantom-like, and as stealthily Lady Constance
crept to the postern door. Behind her fell a shadow athwart the floor,
a shadow that was not hers but of one that moved as warily. She
listened as she held the door ajar, fearing to look back. As she
thrust the door wide, a figure from without moved toward her.
"Who is there?" she whispered.
"Monmouth!" was the answer; and out she stepped, well pleased to
be free from that shadow she felt was pursuing her. Her hand was
immediately taken and eager eyes sought the ring. It was hardly
visible, so dense was the shadow of the trees.
"Come this way, Lady Penwick," came in a voice that was not that of
Monmouth's, which had sounded so much like music to her a few, short
hours before, or that had spoken the word "Monmouth" even that moment.
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