II

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II

Felise was not long reaching home, and Abner came to take charge of the pony. She asked him to meet her that evening at seven oтАЩclock at Mr.┬аGodwinтАЩs, just outside in the path, and not to mention to anyone that he was going there. The good-natured, loyal fellow promised to do so; it was indeed a pleasure to him to do anything for her.

Upstairs in her room Felise printed a few words with pen and ink on a slip of notepaper, so that the writer could not be guessed from the handwriting; and then waited till seven, which hour she had chosen because Abner would have finished his work.

He was waiting for her just outside GodwinтАЩs premises, ready to do her bidding, let it be what it might.

тАЬHere is the money,тАЭ said Felise, handing a bag heavy with gold to Robert Godwin in the little side parlour to which he had conducted her.

They were alone. Robert counted it methodically, and began to write a receipt.

тАЬDo not put my name in the receipt,тАЭ said Felise, a sudden thought occurring to her.

Robert did as he was bid, and omitted the name. The receipt simply ran, тАЬReceived ┬г70 for the bay horse, Ruy.тБатАФтБаRobert Godwin.тАЭ

тАЬNow give me the horse,тАЭ said she, taking up the paper.

тАЬTonight? I will have him groomed and sent overтБатАФтАЭ

тАЬNo, noтБатАФnow. Come,тАЭ rising and going to the door.

Robert could not refuse. He walked as slowly as he could, wishing to make her stay as long as possible, for she came and went like the wind. Felise with her own hand took RuyтАЩs halterтБатАФhe was nothing loth to come with her, remembering the applesтБатАФand led him towards the gate.

тАЬBut you will permit me to help you; let me go with youтБатАФтАЭ

тАЬThere is no need; I have Abner waiting outside.тАЭ

Robert GodwinтАЩs face at the name became black as night; he said not another word, but merely accompanied her to the gate, and raised his hat in silence.

Felise did not relinquish her hold of the halter, though Abner immediately joined her, till a turn of the lane hid them from Robert GodwinтАЩs view.

тАЬAbner,тАЭ said Felise, stopping, тАЬI thinkтБатАФI believe you would be true to me.тАЭ

тАЬThat indeed I would, miss!тАЭ His blue eyes lit up, and his countenance grew for the moment handsome with earnestness.

тАЬI want you to do something for me, and not to tell a single personтБатАФnot one, mindтБатАФnot even your sweetheart.тАЭ

Abner grew redтБатАФFelise did not know whether he had or had not a sweetheart. His face looked guilty.

тАЬI wonтАЩt tell nobodyтБатАФnot a word, miss; bless you, you may be sure of I.тАЭ

тАЬI believe I may.тАЭ She took the receipt for Ruy, and doubled it up inside the slip of paper with the printed message in the form of a note, and gave it to Abner.

тАЬI want you to take this horse over to the Manor House, and leave him in Mr.┬аBarnardтАЩs stables; and then go up to the house and see himтБатАФwait till you do see himтБатАФand give him the note, and come away without a word. DonтАЩt answer a single question; if he asks any, if anyone asks anyтБатАФsayтБатАФlet me seeтБатАФsayтБатАФsay, another man gave you sixpence to bring the horse because he was tired. On the road you met him, you know, by chance, and so you donтАЩt know anything.тАЭ

тАЬAll right, miss; IтАЩll tell тАЩem a taleтБатАФnever fear.тАЭ

тАЬAnd then I shall want to know if you have done it; but I donтАЩt want you to call at our houseтБатАФah! what is that tune you are always whistling?тАЭ

тАЬтАКтАШJump Into the WagonтАЩ?тАЭ

тАЬYes, тАШPhyllis DearтАЩтБатАФthatтАЩs it. Now, when you come back, stop outside our gate and whistle it as hard as you can, and I shall understand.тАЭ

тАЬSo I will.тАЭ

тАЬI shall have two shillings on Saturday, and you shall have them.тАЭ

тАЬNo, miss; if you please, I donтАЩt want no moneyтБатАФyou have a-been terrable good to our folk.тАЭ

тАЬBut you shall have the two shillings.тАЭ

тАЬBless you, miss, sixpence will be aplenty for such a little job as this here!тАЭ

тАЬWell, well! wait till Saturday,тАЭ said Felise, determined he should have the two shillings all the same. тАЬNow, youтАЩre sure you quite understand?тАЭ

тАЬI understands; all right, miss; I shall do it famous.тАЭ He touched his cap and started.

Felise watched him and Ruy till they turned the corner, and then returned home. She found Mr.┬аGoring in some anxiety about Mary Shaw, who had had a fainting-fit and was lying on the sofa. Felise ran to her side and found poor Mary, usually red as a peony, as white as a sheet; she had fainted all at once as she was running in from the garden, hearing Mr.┬аGoring call.

тАЬAnd you fell upstairs yesterday.тАЭ

тАЬThatтАЩs lucky,тАЭ said Mary, with a faint smile.

тАЬAnd youтАЩre always complaining of a pain in your side.тАЭ

тАЬItтАЩs nothingтБатАФitтАЩs the heatтБатАФand I ate too many cherries.тАЭ

тАЬWell, if it happens again you must see the doctor.тАЭ

At which terrible word Mary burst into tears.

тАЬOh, donтАЩt you let I see the doctorтБатАФnow donтАЩt you! I should die of fright, I knows I should; you donтАЩt mean that nowтБатАФdo you, now? Say as you donтАЩt mean it. I canтАЩt abear no doctors.тАЭ

To pacify her, for she was trembling all over, Felise promised that the doctor should not be called in unless it was a very bad case indeed.

Quite suddenly Mary sat up, and declared she felt as well as ever; and certainly her colour began to return, and she laughed at her tumbling down.

тАЬI fellтБатАФwhop! like a sack out of windowтБатАФlike them sacks the miller pitches out of his window into a cart.тАЭ

In ten minutes she was humming merrily as she went about the house. But these little incidents made Felise fear that the girlтБатАФto whom she was much attachedтБатАФhad overgrown herself, and that in spite of her stoutness and rosiness she was not really very strong. She was remarkably timid, but all cottage folk (and indeed most country people) dislike the idea of a doctor because they seldom resort to one except in serious illness, and the doctor is associated with great troubles.

After awhile Abner reflected that the horse might as well carry him, and by the help of a gate got on RuyтАЩs back, and so arrived very pleasantly at the Manor House. There was but one labourer about, who showed him the stable, and whose questions he easily parried. He had, however, to wait some time for Martial, and spoke to him at last at the porch; Martial, who was not in a good-humour, thrust the note in his pocket on hearing no answer was expected, and thought no more about it, supposing it to be some trifling business. Some hours consequently elapsed before he opened it; he remembered it just as he was about to retire.

The note contained the printed message: тАЬOne who thinks of you returns you your favourite,тАЭ and the receipt for Ruy, ┬г70, signed Robert Godwin.

Martial rushed to the stable, and there found his favourite comfortably munching in his old stall. His surprise and delight were about equal. He stayed with Ruy a long time, wondering who it could have been who had made him this magnificent present. Young as he was, it was years now since he had received the least kindness from anyone; the mercenary manner in which the old merchant had broken off the engagement with Rosa on finding out his poverty was not calculated to increase his faith in the generosity of the world generally.

The note itself gave him no clue; the letters might have been printed by a man or womanтБатАФindeed, by a child; the watermark, as he held the strip up to the lantern, was partly visible, but the same watermark is impressed on tons of paper. From the labourer who had received the horse not the slightest information could be obtained, and the messenger who had brought him had disappeared hours ago. It was dark when the man gave him the note, and he would not know him again; indeed, he had taken no notice of him whatever.

Robert Godwin could tell him, no doubt; but Martial instantly decided that Robert Godwin would shut his lips and absolutely refuse. He knew the man too well. It could only have beenтБатАФit must have been one or other of those wealthy London friends who had petted him in boyhood, and deserted him when of an age to appreciate assistance. They had not then forgotten him.

With this conclusion Martial returned to bed, but woke up in the night with the sudden thought that it was Rosa. She had plenty of money; she knew how fond he was of Ruy; she had bought him back. He jumped up and partly dressed; he was so annoyed at the thought that he was ready to return Ruy that very night to Godwin. It would look rather absurd riding over to GodwinтАЩs at three in the morning, so he decided to wait till breakfast. By breakfast-time, after a look at Ruy and at the downs they had so often breasted together, his attachment for the horse conquered his pride; he could not send him away.

His cousins had of course heard of the mysterious return of Ruy, and plied him with questions. Martial did not show them the note, but could not conceal the facts. тАЬIt was Rosa, of course,тАЭ they said. тАЬWhat a dear good girl she is, and what a time it is since we have seen her! We must go and call on her.тАЭ

Martial left the room in anger. He saddled Ruy; yet even the freshness and beauty of the morning, and the pleasure of riding his favourite once more, could not overcome the bitterness of the thought that he owed that delight to Rosa. So entirely had his nature turned against the woman he once adored.

тАЬWait for the WagonтАЭ echoed in the stillness of the night round the gables of BeechknollтБатАФthe jolly old tune, mellow and loud. Three times Abner whistled it, and Felise, listening in her chamber, knew that Martial had received the horse. Someone else heard the tune too; a window was gently opened, and a low voice called:

тАЬGood night, Ab.тАЭ

тАЬNight, you,тАЭ said Abner, stumping on down the road.