"I know not his face," she said; "I know not his face, and yet I must doubt the man--and that other face over his shoulder? Methinks I have seen it before--can it have been with the Jesuit, Parsons?--else why did it bring up that wicked, cunning man to my mind, who would fain have entangled me in things for my destruction? Well, well, I will treat it lightly--ay, lightly. The shaft that may hit the heavy-flying crow misses the light-winged swallow. Yet I will be upon my guard; and if I find new plotters, I will not house with them through the night--I will no plots, not I. If they will but let me live my little life in peace, and die with an innocent spirit, I ask no more. Marian, girl!" she added, aloud, and then whispered to the maid for a moment, who instantly quitted the room. "Come hither, pretty maiden," continued the lady, addressing the landlord's daughter, "and help me to put off this dress. It seems a fair country this round your village, as well as I could judge through the rain. Now, there is many a gentleman's house in the neighbourhood, I'll warrant." "Good heart, no," replied the girl; "we are but poorly off in such commodities." "Why, faith, I thought I saw several large houses as I came along," rejoined the lady. "Who's was that large mansion on the top of the hill, about a mile hence?" The girl laughed. "That's the great black barn," she said. "It does look like a castle by night, with the trees round it. No, madam: the only large house we have near is Sir Harry West's." "I must have passed it as I came," answered the lady. "Undo this knot, good girl. I know Sir Harry West well. He showed himself a gallant gentleman in the Irish wars, though as mild as he is brave. Which was his house?" "If you are journeying from London," said the girl, "you passed it two miles hence, on the left up the valley, by the side of the stream. But I doubt if you could see it by night." The lady made no reply, and the moment after her maid re-entered the room, and took the place of the landlady's daughter in assisting the Lady Arabella at her toilet. The dress was soon changed--at least as far as she would suffer it to be; for the long riding-skirt, in which she had come thither, she retained over her other garments, though it was soiled, and somewhat wet. In this plight, however, she returned to the kitchen of the inn, where she found the strange cavalier ready to receive her, and was by him led, with courtier-like formality, into an adjoining chamber, where a table was placed, groaning under the abundant supper which had been prepared. But only one cover was laid upon the board, apparently intended for herself. To this place the stranger conducted her, and seemed literally about to take upon himself the office of carver, as he had proposed; but Arabella paused, without sitting down, saying,