Part 35 (1/2)

In the diht the woman saw not the sudden pallor of her asp of pain that was almost a cry In her iven way to her feelings The entleht of it she broke into a laugh that appalled her tiring-wo her hysteria, she took a sudden deterhtened Catherine obeyed her at a run

When the landlord caed back obsequiously:

”Have you a pillion?” she asked abruptly ”Well, fool, why do you stare?

Have you a pillion?”

”I have, madam”

”And a knave to ride with ht procure them, but--”

”How soon?”

”Within half an hour, but--”

”Then go see to it,” she broke in, her foot beating the ground io!” she cried, her voice rising at each utterance of that ily, and speaking quickly so that he et the words out, ”I have no horses fit to travel ten o but five,” she retorted quickly, her only thought being to get the beasts, no o, and come not back until all is ready Use dispatch and I will pay you well, and above all, not a word to the gentleman who came hither with , won to it by her proood pay the hope that ere the landlord returned to announce the conclusion of his preparations, Crispin ht have remembered her and come But he did not appear, and in her solitude this poor little maid was very er than sorrow in their source At length the landlord came She summoned her woman, and bade her follow by post on theworth twenty tih a side door into the innyard

Here she found three horses, one equipped with the pillion on which she was to ride behind a burly stableboy The other tere mounted by a couple of stalwart and well-armed men, one of whoer that proies of valour

Wrapped in her cloak, she mounted behind the stable-boy, and bade him set out and take the road to Denham Her dream was at an end

Master Quinn, the landlord, watched her departure with eyes that were charged with doubt and concern As he made fast the door of the stableyard after she had passed out, he ominously shook his hoary head and muttered to hi the strange ways of er ways of wo up his lanthorn, he slowly retraced his steps to the buttery where his aiting hih above her pink and deeply-dimpled elbows stood Mistress Quinn at work upon the fashi+oning of a pastry, when her husband entered and set down his lanthorn with a sigh

”To be so plagued,” he growled ”To be browbeaten by a slip of a wench--a fine gentlee with the airs and vapours of a lady of quality Am I not a fool to have endured it?”

”Certainly you are a fool,” his wife agreed, kneading diligently, ”whatever you may have endured What now?”

His fat face was puckered into a thousand wrinkles His little eyes gazed at her with long-suffering nantly, as ould say: Thus isthat the assertion was not one that admitted of dispute, Mistress Quinn was silent

”Oh, 'tis ill done!” he broke out a moment later ”Shame on me for it; it is ill done!”

”If you have done it 'tis sure to be ill done, and shaood sooth--but for what?” put in his wife

”For sending those poor jaded beasts upon the road”