Having thus obtained the consent and approbation of Dan and the vicar, Meg repaired to Farbis Court. It was rather late, and the dusk was closing in, for she had been all the afternoon at the gipsy camp in the company of her lover. He left her on the brow of the hill at her own request, as she wished to see Miss Linisfarne that evening. Dan wished her to postpone her visit until next day; but Meg was resolute. She had already put off the call too long, and was determined to see and comfort the lonely woman that very evening. "It is only six o'clock, Dan," she said, in answer to his entreaties, "and I can easily be home before seven. It is three weeks since I saw her, so I must go at once." "To-morrow morning----" "Then I shall be with you. You keep me by your side all day. If I do not call in the evening, I shall not see her at all." "At least let me accompany you to the park gates." "No. There is no necessity. I can go myself, as I have always done. No one will touch me in Farbis. Good night, Dan. No. Only one kiss." Thus they parted, and Meg ran down the hill in the twilight. Dan watched her with some anxiety, and felt an unaccountable presentiment of evil. He did not think for a moment that Miss Linisfarne would harm the girl, else he would not have consented to her going to the Court. But there was a sense of uneasiness in his breast, for which he could not account. He looked towards Farbis Court, dark and forbidding under the hill. The sight did not lighten his spirits. "I hope I am wise in letting her go," he said aloud. "Pshaw! Miss Linisfarne is foolish, but not wicked. Meg is all right. But I'll call at the house after supper, and see if she is back, and also ask the result of her mission. She will fail, I fear; Miss Linisfarne is not the woman to forgive easily." Thus reassuring himself, he returned to his dell to prepare supper. Nevertheless the presentiment of evil still lurked in his mind, and he did not make so cheery a meal as usual. Had he only known what was taking place at the Court at that moment, he would no longer have wondered at his expectation of coming evil. It would have been wiser to trust a sparrow to a cat, than Meg to the clutches of Miss Linisfarne on that evening. A woman scorned is dangerous. She was pacing up and down the long drawing-room, with clasped hands, and a look of baffled rage on her face. Innumerable candles lighted the room brilliantly, and were reflected in the dusty mirrors. Miss Linisfarne, with dishevelled hair, looked at herself in the glass, and laughed bitterly at the wreck of her beauty.