Ruth mounted the step, and in a moment nestled in beside her. “I gathered these flowers for you,” she said. “Thank you, darling.” Frances took the flowers and stooped to kiss her. “I’ve been waiting for you a long, long time,” Ruth said. “Have you liked your drive?” “I have loved it,” Frances said with simplicity. “Thank you,” said Arthur quietly, on the other side. They passed on through the great circle and out between the stones on to a narrow track that led steeply downwards to a lane. The buzz of a car rose from below them as they approached it, and Arthur drew in his horse. The car went by unseen, but to Frances in the high cart there came a sudden, sharp sense of insecurity that was almost panic, and for a moment she ceased to breathe. She knew that car. Her agitation subsided gradually. They went on down the lane and turned into the corn-field. “I must leave you here,” Arthur said. He helped them both down and settled them comfortably with a rug and cushions in the shade of the hedge. “Will you be all right here?” he asked Frances. “I will tell Elsie to look after you.” “I shall be quite all right,” she assured him. “Please don’t let anyone waste any time over me!” He smiled and turned away. She watched him go with an answering smile upon her lips. Roger came up and lay down beside them. The peace of a perfect day descended upon the harvest-field. The fragrance of the cut corn was like an oblation. “Are we alone?” said Ruth. “Yes, darling. Why?” The little girl came pressing close to her side. “Because I’ve got something to tell you, and it’s a secret. I met a man to-day in the lane, who said he was a friend of yours. He didn’t tell me who he was, but it was the friend who wrote that letter to you. And he said—would I tell you that he will be at the Stones again to-night at ten.” CHAPTER IX THE LETTER