When she had crossed the meadows that led from the farm, she stood still and looked back at the pretty homestead; the moonbeams glistened in the windows, the great roses looked silvery, the ivy and jasmine clung to the walls, the flowers lay sleeping in the moonlight; there was the garden where she had spent the long, sunny days with Earle, there was the path which lead to the woods, the spreading tree underneath whose shades Earle had told of his great love. She looked at it all with a smile on her lips; no thought of regret in her heart. "It is a dull, dreary place," she said to herself; "I never wish to see it again." Then she added: "I have killed Earle." Good-bye, sweet, soft moonlight; good-bye, white-robed purity, girlish innocence--all left behind with the sleeping roses and the silent trees! She turned away impatiently: perhaps the moonbeams had, after all, a language of their own that stirred some unknown depths in the vain, foolish heart. Then she hastened down the high-road, thinking how fortunate it was that the country side was so deserted. The town of Quainton rose before her, the church, the market hall, and last of all the railway station. It wanted a quarter of an hour yet to midnight, and she remembered her lover's injunction that her face was not to be seen. She was careful enough never to raise the veil. "I wonder," she thought to herself, "why he disliked the idea of my being seen?" Then she laughed a little mocking laugh. "It would be inconsistent," she said, "for the model of 'innocence' to be seen at a railway station at midnight." There were few passengers for the mail train; she managed to get her ticket first-class for Liverpool without attracting much attention, or exciting any comment or surprise. During the few moments she stood there, she told the porter that she was going to meet her husband, whose ship had just reached the shore. Her face had flushed as she took out Lord Vivianne's purse and Lord Vivianne's money to pay for her ticket; then the mail train came thundering into the station: there was a minute or two of great confusion. She took her seat in a first-class carriage, then left Earle and Brackenside far behind. "That is all done with," said Doris. "Those quiet pastoral days are ended, thank Heaven!" No warning came to her of how she should return to the home she was in such haste to quit. The journey was a long one. A flush of dawn reddened the sky, and the dew was shining, the birds beginning to sing, as she reached the great bustling city of Liverpool. She was half bewildered by the noise and confusion. A porter found a cab for her, and she gave the address of the hotel Lord Vivianne had given her. There was a long drive through the wilderness of streets, then she reached the hotel.