"I sometimes fear he must be near it," he answered. "But, in truth, I believe it is but that he is very high-flown concerning the Fifth Monarchy and such matters, neither do these fits last long with him, I have never seen him so near distraught. Yet Mr. Marshman knows how to handle him and will not let him run into any danger, and, I doubt not, will see him safe aboard in the morning." He noticed that Audrey was still silent. "Even if anything should befall the good man, which God forbid," he said, "we had set us a rendezvous at Mrs. Rogers's lodging at Rotterdam, so if you will do me so much grace, I will bring you thither; 'tis but a short voyage to come there." He looked at her. Her face was white in the moonlight, and looked thin and drawn. When might he dare to ask what had happened during the last two days? When might he ask for her pardon? "I entreat of you to come to the boat," he said. "Most like you know the old fisherman who owns it, Job Hamont? He waits below for us. I fear though the road is too bad for riding." Audrey made no answer in words, but slid from her horse and stood waiting in the road. "Shall I lead the pony down to Job's hut?" asked Harrison. "Oh, no, Dapple knows how to take care of himself," answered Audrey, at last. She tied up the reins, and then with a sudden movement she laid her cheek beside the pony's. "Farewell, old friend," she murmured, "I shall scarce find one more faithful. Now home, little horse, home!" she cried, recovering herself and clapping her hands, and the docile little beast trotted off in the direction of Inglethorpe. CHAPTER XIV. FATE'S SEQUEL. "All precious things discovered late, To those that seek them issue forth; For love in sequel works with Fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth." TENNYSON, _The Day Dream._ Harrison led the way down the path across the heather. Soon the narrow lane grew deeper, and the sand softer under their feet. The tiny glen was dark, and Harrison turned, and offered his hand to his companion; but she shook her head in silent refusal, and they plodded on, till suddenly the dark banks broke away, and they came out on the empty moonlit beach. The firm shining sands seemed to stretch away to a limitless distance, the far-off sea was only vaguely visible and no sound came up from it. Down across the wide strand the silent pair rapidly passed, and then Richard halted. "Here the water begins," he said. "It is too shallow for the boat to come nearer. You must let me carry you to it." He knew with pride that he had made his tone as cold and formal as her own. "There is no need," protested Audrey. "I have often waded here, gathering cockles." "Ay," he answered; "but not when starting on a sea voyage;" and without further question he stooped and lifted her in his arms, and waded in.