His voice was very low as he finished, and, while we both sat silent, he with his eyes intently fixed on my face, mine staring out fearfully at the sky, a dark figure suddenly appeared before us, blocking out the light. It was Mr. Rayner. Mr. Reade and I started guiltily. The new-comer had approached so quietly that we had not heard him; had he heard us? CHAPTER IV In spite of the rain and the mud, Mr. Rayner was in the brightest of humors; and his first words dispelled my fear that he might have overheard the warning Mr. Reade had just given me not to stay at the Alders. He caught sight of me first as he came under the roof of the dark shed. “At last, Miss Christie! It was a happy thought of mine to look for you here. But how in the world did you discover this place of refuge?” Then, turning, he saw my companion. “Hallo, Laurence! Ah, this explains the mystery! You have been playing knight-errant, I see, and I am too late in the field; but I shall carry off the lady, after all. My wife noticed that you started without your ulster, Miss Christie, and, as soon as service was over, she sent me off with it to meet you.” He helped me on with it, and then I stood between them, silent and rather shy at receiving so much unaccustomed attention, until the rain began to fall less heavily, and we seized the opportunity to escape. When we got in sight of the park, Mr. Reade wanted to take a short cut through it to the house; but Mr. Rayner pointed out that there was no object to be gained by catching a bad cold wading through the long wet grass, so we all went together as far as the park gates, where Mr. Reade left us. “Nice young fellow, that,” said Mr. Rayner, as soon as the other was out of earshot. “Just the kind of open frank lad I should have liked to have for a son in a few years’ time. Handsome too, and good-natured. There’s not a girl in all the country-side who hasn’t a smile and a blush for Laurence.” I did not think this so great a recommendation as it seemed to Mr. Rayner, but I said nothing; and he went on-- “He is worth all the rest of his family put together. Father--self-important, narrow-minded old simpleton; mother--ill-dressed vegetable, kept alive by a sense of her own dignity as the penniless daughter of an earl; sisters--plain stuck-up nonentities; younger brother--dunce at Eton. But they haven’t been able to spoil Laurence. He may have a few of their prejudices, but he has none of their narrow-minded pig-headedness. You don’t understand the rustic mind yet, Miss Christie. I assure you there are plenty of people in this parish who have condemned me to eternal punishment because I am fond of racing and, worse than all, play the violin.” “Do you play the violin? Oh, I am so fond of it!”