but Modest Ann-she went commonly by that name-the waiting-maid of the inn, who was said to mould herself on her mistress and to be only a trifle less formidable when roused. The two were something alike, for the maid was buxom and florid; and fame told of battles between them whence no ordinary woman, no ordinary tongue, no mortal save Mrs. Gilson, could have issued victorious. Fame had it also that Modest Ann remained after her defeat only by reason of an attachment, held by most to be hopeless, to the head ostler. And for certain, severe as she was, she permitted some liberty of speech on the subject.
Henrietta, however, did not know that here was another slave of love; and her face fell.
"Is Mr. Stewart waiting?" she asked.
"No, miss," the woman answered, civilly enough, but staring as if she could never see enough of her. "But Mrs. Gilson will be glad if you'll speak to her."
Henrietta raised her eyebrows. It was on the tip of her tongue to answer, "Then let her come to me!" But she remembered that these people did not know who she was-knew indeed nothing of her. And she answered instead: "I will come. Where is she?"
"This way, miss. I'll show you the way."
Henrietta wondered, as the woman conducted her along several low-ceiled passages, and up and down odd stairs, and past windows which disclosed the hill rising immediately at the back of the house, what the landlady wanted.
"She is an odious woman!" she thought, with impatience. "How horrid she was to me last night! If ever there was a bully, she is one! And this creature looks not much better!"
Modest Ann, turning her head at the moment, belied the ill opinion by pointing out a step in a dark corner.
"There is a stair here, miss," she said. "Take care."
"Thank you," Henrietta answered in her clear, girlish voice. "Is Mr. Stewart with Mrs. – What's her name?"
"Mrs. Gilson? No, miss."
And pausing, the woman opened a door, and made way for Henrietta to enter.
At that instant-and strange to say, not before-a dreadful suspicion leapt up in the girl's brain. What if her brother had followed her, and was there? Or worse still, Captain Clyne? What if she were summoned to be confronted with them and to be taken home in shameful durance, after the fashion of a naughty child that had behaved badly and was in disgrace? The fire sprang to her eyes, her cheeks burnt. It was too late to retreat; but her pretty head went up in the air, and her look as she entered spoke flat rebellion. She swept the room with a glance of flame.
However, there was no one to be burned up: no brother, no slighted, abandoned suitor. In the room, a good-sized, pleasant room, looking on the lake, were only Mrs. Gilson, who stood beside the table, which was laid for breakfast, and a strange man. The man was gazing from the window, but he turned abruptly, disclosing a red waistcoat, as her eye fell on him. She looked from one to the other in great surprise, in growing surprise. What did the man there?
"Where is Mr. Stewart?" she asked, her frigid tone expressing her feelings. "Is he not here?"
Mrs. Gilson seemed about to answer, but the man forestalled her.
"No, miss," he said, "he is not."
"Where is he?"
She asked the question with undisguised sharpness.
Mr. Bishop nodded like a man well pleased.
"That is the point, miss," he answered-"precisely. Where is he?"
CHAPTER IV
TWO TO ON
Henrietta, high-spirited and thoughtless, was more prone to anger than to fear, to resentment than to patience. But all find something formidable in the unknown; and the presence of this man who spoke with so much aplomb, and referred to her lover as if he had some concern in him, was enough to inspire her with fear and set her on her guard. Nevertheless, she could not quite check the first impulse to resentment; the man's very presence was a liberty, and her tone when she spoke betrayed her sense of this.
"I have no doubt," she said, "that Mr. Stewart can be found if you wish to see him." She turned to Mrs. Gilson. "Be good enough," she said, "to send some one in search of him."
"I have done that already," the man Bishop answered.
The landlady, who did not move, seemed tongue-tied. But she did not take her eyes off the girl.
Henrietta frowned. She threw her bonnet and shawl on a side-table.
"Be good enough to send again, then," she said, turning and speaking in the indifferent tone of one who was wont to have her orders obeyed. "He is probably within call. The chaise is ordered for ten."
Bishop advanced a step and tapped the palm of one hand with the fingers of the other.
"That is the point, miss!" he said impressively. "You've hit it. The chaise is ordered for ten. It is nine now, within a minute-and the gentleman cannot be found."
"Cannot be found?" she echoed, in astonishment at his familiarity. "Cannot be found?" She turned imperiously to Mrs. Gilson. "What does this person mean?" she said. And her tone was brave. But the colour came and went in her cheeks, and the first flutter of alarm darkened her eyes.
The landlady found her voice.
"He means," she said bluntly, "that he did not sleep in his bed last night."
"Mr. Stewart?"
"The gentleman who came with you."
"Oh, but," Henrietta cried, "you must be jesting?" She would not, she could not, give way to the doubt that assailed her.
"It is no jest," Bishop answered gravely, and with something like pity in his voice. For the girl looked very fair and very young, and wore her dignity prettily. "It is no jest, miss, believe me. But perhaps we could read the riddle-we should know more, at any rate-if you were to tell us from what part you came yesterday."
But she had her wits about her, and she was not going to tell them that! No, no! Moreover, on the instant she had a thought-that this was no jest, but a trick, a cruel, cowardly trick, to draw from her the knowledge which they wanted, and which she must not give! Beyond doubt that was it; she snatched thankfully at the notion. This odious woman, taking advantage of Stewart's momentary absence, had called in the man, and thought to bully her, a young girl in a strange place, out of the information which she had wished to get the night before.
The impertinents! But she would be a match for them.
"That is my affair," she said.
"But-"
"And will remain so!" she continued warmly. "For the rest, I am inclined to think that this is a trap of some sort! If so, you may be sure that Mr. Stewart will know how to resent it, and any impertinence offered to me. You" – she turned suddenly upon Mrs. Gilson-"you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
Mrs. Gilson nodded oracularly.
"I am ashamed of somebody," she said.
The girl thought that she was gaining the advantage.
"Then at once," she said, "let Mr. Stewart know that I am waiting for him. Do you hear, madam?" she stamped the floor with her foot, and looked the
