During the latter hours of the day I had gone over again in mind all the details of the doings of past weeks. All seemed now clear, and with great heartiness I cursed myself for errors, which I could scarce have refrained from. The steps in Gilbert’s plan lay before me one by one. The letter had given him only the slightest of clues, which he must have taken weeks to discover. When at last it had been made clear to him, something else had engaged his mind. He must have had word from private sources, shut to the country folk, of the way whither events were trending in the state. His mind was made up; he would make one desperate bid for success; and thus he shaped his course. He sent men to Smitwood with the plausible story which I had already heard from my servant, how all breach was healed between us, and how this was her escort to take her to me. Then I doubted not he had bidden the men show her as proof some letter forged in my name on the model of the one I had lost on Caerdon, and also give her some slight hint of the great change in the country to convince her that now he could do no ill even had he desired it, and that I was now on the summit of fortune. The poor lass, wearied with anxiety and long delay, and with no wise Nicol at hand to give better counsel, had suffered herself to be persuaded, and left the house with a glad heart. I pictured her disillusion, her bitter regrets, her unwilling flight. And then I swore with redoubled vehemence that it should not be for long. We alighted for the night at the house of that Mistress Macmillan, where I lodged when I first came to college. She welcomed us heartily, and prepared us a noble supper, for we were hungry as hawks, and I, for one, tired with many rough adventures. The house stood in the Gallow Gate, near the salt market and the college gardens; and as I lay down on the fresh sheets and heard the many noises of the street with the ripple of the river filling the pauses, I thanked God that at last I had come out of beggary and outlawry to decent habitation. CHAPTER III THE HOUSE WITH THE CHIPPED GABLES The next morn the weather had changed. When I looked forth through the latticed panes to the street, it was a bleak scene that met my eyes—near a foot of snow, flakes tossing and whirling everywhere, and the roofs and gables showing leaden dull in the gloom. Had I been in another frame of mind I should have lost my spirits, for nothing so disheartened me as heavy, dismal weather. But now I was in such a temper that I welcomed the outlook; the grey, lifeless street was akin to my heart, and I went down from my chamber with the iron of resolution in my soul.