‘Dick, that’s a word from Sebastian Shepley, so sure as I do stand here,’ said Anne, her voice shaking; ‘I do know the looks of his name upon the sheet, for ’twas all ever I could read for myself of his letters, an’ many’s the one I had.’ ‘Shepley? what would Shepley write to me of?’ asked Meadowes hotly, rising and walking away down the garden-walk towards the gate. But Anne would not be put off. She followed him down the walk and laid her hand on his arm. ‘Tell me, Dick,’ she said; ‘I had a deal rather hear straight all he hath to say.’ ‘I swear to you——’ Meadowes began; but Anne interrupted him. ‘Then you swear false, Dick: ’tis writ by Sebastian’s own hand, or my name be not Anne Sundon. Best tell me what he saith.’ ‘The letter is from a man Steven Shackleton, Anne. You mistook the lettering, being no scholar,’ persisted Meadowes, lying desperately now, his courage had so withered when brought to the point. Anne faced round upon him; her big clever brown eyes seemed to be reading into his very soul. ‘You’re makin’ up tales, Dick,’ she said. ‘You won’t look me in the eyes and tell me that’s not Sebastian’s hand of write.’ ‘There,’ cried Meadowes, facing round to meet her eyes directly. ‘The letter was from——’ His glance fell to the ground, as he added, ‘Steven Shackleton’ again. ‘If so be you speak straight——’ Anne began. But Meadowes with an impatient exclamation cut her short. ‘What do you take me for? Well, I must be off. A fool I was to leave town without reading my letters, for back to it I must go in a couple of hurries. Come, bid me good-bye, Anne,’ he added, bending down towards her. ‘Good-bye,’ said Anne absently, turning away into the cottage. She sat beside the baby’s cradle, rocking it slowly, and gazed down at the floor. What did all this confusion and contradiction on Dick’s part mean? Why did he look like that, as scared as though he had seen a ghost? And why was he so angry, and why again so flushed? Dick meantime was riding back to London at a great pace—riding as if the devil himself rode behind him. But when he reached town it was to ask himself why he had come there; for deep down in his heart he knew that the time had come, and that tell Anne he must—yes, the whole black truth from first to last. He had ridden away from her searching truth-compelling eyes, but they followed him still, and back he must go and have done with it all. Why would the earth not open and swallow him up?—Ah, happy Dathan and Abiram! CHAPTER VII