"Then as quickly as you can, slip out of the house and follow the road that leads to the forge. I’ll be on the lookout for you. I’ll not have gone far. You quite understand?" "Oh, yes! my lady!" "You are not afraid?" Mistress Betty shrugged her plump shoulders. "In broad daylight? Oh, no, my lady! and the forge is but a mile." Even as she spoke Patience had wrapped her dark cloak and hood round her. She listened intently for a few seconds. The sound of voices seemed to come from the more remote bar-parlour: moreover, the narrow passage at this end was quite dark: she had every chance of slipping out unperceived. "Sh! sh!" she whispered to Betty as she opened the door. The passage was deserted: almost holding her breath, lest it should betray her, Patience reached the door at the further end of it, Betty anxiously watching her from the inner room. Quickly she slipped the bolt, and the next instant she found herself looking out upon a dingy unfenced yard, which for the moment was hopelessly encumbered with the two huge travelling coaches: beyond these was a long wooden shed whence proceeded the noise of voices and laughter, and the stamping and snorting of horses: and far away the Moor to the right and left of her stretched out in all the majesty of its awesome loneliness. The wind caught her cloak as she stepped out into the yard: she clutched it tightly and held it close to her. She hoped the two coaches, which stood between her and the shed, would effectively hide her from view until she was past the house. The next moment, however, she heard an exclamation behind her, then the sound of firm steps upon the flagstones, and a second or two later she stood face to face with Sir Humphrey Challoner. CHAPTER VIII THE REJECTED SUITOR Whether he was surprised or not at finding her there, she could not say: she was trying with all her might to appear astonished and unconcerned. He made her a low and elaborate bow, and she responded with the deep curtsey the fashion of the time demanded. "Begad! the gods do indeed favour me!" he said, his good-looking, jovial face expressing unalloyed delight. "I come to this forsaken spot on God’s earth, and find the fairest in all England treading its unworthy soil." "I wish you well, Sir Humphrey," she said gently, but coldly. "I had no thought of seeing you here." "Faith!" he laughed with some bitterness, "I had no hope that the thought of seeing me had troubled your ladyship much. I am on my way to Derby and foolishly thought to take this shorter way across the Moor. Odd’s life! I was well-nigh regretting it. I was attacked and robbed last evening, and the heavy roads force me to spend the night in this unhallowed tavern. But I little guessed what compensation the Fates had in store for me." "I was in a like plight, Sir Humphrey," she said, trying to speak with perfect indifference. "You were not robbed, surely?"