“They promised that trouble should cease. I was going back to my own house over my own garden, by the river that I like to hear by day, by night. They said that Father Edmund should be checked. Presently I was to find that I might slip back--” “What is promised is not easy sometimes to perform. They will give you gold in London. London is rich, and you are Morgen Fay. Go, and be powerful there!” “And you--and you? Oh, I remember that you go once in five years to London!” “If you cried out in Middle Forest market place what was done not a soul would believe you!” “No. It is too monstrous!” “Then and there the folk might tear you limb from limb for wild blaspheming. They are truly quite safe.” She broke into high laughter. “Then let them leave me alone, and let them keep promise! It irks me that they are so false! Here are two months, and not yet may I go back! And Ailsa and Tony, where are they? I see them begging or in gaol!” “You should be happy,” he said, “that you are not beggar nor in gaol.” There fell silence. The beech tree sprang light green and silver, the sky was blue, the blackbirds talked, a thrush sang, wandering airs went by. The world was sweet. But she crushed the dead leaves and sat still. “You must go. Need or no need, they will have it so! Nor can you stay at the ruined farm forever. Something will happen endangering you--endangering me.” She said. “Is life wicked--or are we wicked--or are we dull and lifeless--stones, broken twigs, dead leaves? Many an one says that I am wicked, and doubtless I am at times. I know it--I know it! And then again I am not wicked. So if I say that you are so, poor Sir Robert Somerville? Perhaps I am mistaken--perhaps I am right. It’s a weary way to knowledge!” “Were you gentler,” he said, “had you not such a tongue, you would find that the winds did not rock your nest so roughly!” He stood up. “Ah, go!” she said. “Go! I have seen it coming--now it comes! Your road’s to John o’ Groat’s house and mine’s to Land’s End!” “You mock the wind,” he answered, “with your nest fixed so firm upon the bough!” He went away by woodman’s path, and she to the ruined farm. “Eh, lass!” said Margery at dusk. “You can work when your mind’s to it!” The third day from this Somerville and she were again in the wood. “I am going. It is trudge! All of you make a north wind that I set my back against and go! Nor will I cry for it, Somerville!” “You have no need to. They shall give you money. Walk or ride in a cart from here through the later half of night, keeping disguise. Come to the port in a day or so and find there the _King Arthur_ bound for London. Find, too, upon the ship Ailsa--” Red flowed over her face. “Oh, the power that men, and honest men, own! It is enough to make one willing to sell soul to devil!” He waved that aside. “It is for your own safety that you are going. And were I wholly wicked I should not be here, nor Ailsa at the port awaiting you--”