“Yes,” I said quietly, “for the second time and always, because of what you have done. But I fear for myself now, and shall go on fearing. Let me go--O, Gogo, let me escape into the woods, and break my heart on frost and hunger rather than wrong.” Still clutching at me, with a look of horror, as if he felt the shadow of his last hope eluding him, he scrambled erect again. “Hunger!” he said. “Think of the snipe and teal! Listen to me, Diana. Before God, I will not offend again. Base, black coward that I am! Before God, Diana!” I gazed at him intently. “Why have you brought me here, Gogo?” “Because,” he answered, “there was no nearer and surer refuge.” “I don’t understand.” “Ah, child! But you have not heard the story.” “Well,” I murmured, reassured, though still shy of him, “if you will keep your promise and be good, you shall tell it me by and by.” He gave a great sigh, and, gently disengaging myself, I stole to the door, while he followed me with his agitated eyes, and peered out. It was Shole, indeed, and the familiar village green that I saw beneath me, looking down the long wintry slope. Quiet and deserted in the chill mists of dawn, no view apparently less tragic, less harmful, could have greeted me. I returned to my companion, who received me with a pathetic relief. He was quite pale and trembling. “If my arms had the reach of my heart!” he said. “Well, you have come back; and so--for breakfast.” “Patty’s pot,” said I merrily. “The dear shall put new heart into me, as her wont was.” He had bread, and some bottles of wine, a little of which I drank mixed with water. It was the loveliest, most intoxicating meal; and, when it was over, full of a new grace I bid Gogo to my side. “Now,” said I, “tell me your story.” “Well, first,” he said with a grunt, “for your safety here. It was the astrologer’s, and now is ours. He was carried away in a thunderstorm, on a red cloud.” “What do you mean, Gogo, please?” “I repeat the common superstition. Anyhow, he is gone, and the place is haunted and avoided since. Not a clown but myself will come within a mile of it; and as for me, I have lived here for a month undisturbed already.” “You? But I know where the poor wretch was taken, and where he died.” “In the asylum, eh? It is what I supposed; and the red earl comes to his own. Tell me about it.” “By and by. I want to know first what brought you here.” “The wish to lose myself and be lost, where I could devise a plan for your rescue.” “You knew where I had been taken, then?” “No perspicacity of mine. It was the common report. You had lost your head over love unrequited, and it had become necessary to confine you for a while.” “O, indeed! Go on.” “I hear your little white teeth clicking. Rest content. You are avenged: he has married her.” I jumped to my feet. “He! de Crespigny?” “Yes.” I burst into a shriek of laughter.