A faint whisper of evil, very subtly set afloat, caused the court to look askance at her. Some few cried, “I cannot believe it,” yet rather in false piety than as true statement of disbelief. Certainly the evil remained unproven, since none sought to prove it, caring little in the matter. As for Brigid, the whisper was too faint to gain her ears. Later it grew somewhat louder, when she was beyond its reach. Then it was left to Mary Chester to defend her, which she did right royally. In the small hours of the morning Brigid rode away, the sun not far above the horizon, the dew yet heavy on the grass. Pippo, his arms full of flowers he had culled for her from the garden, was at the postern gate to watch her depart. “God keep you,” he said as she took his flower burden from him. Peregrine using the salutation at times he now used it himself, though shyly. “God keep you too, Pippo,” she said, smiling her thanks for his gift. Anon, turning in her saddle, she waved her hand to him. Mary Chester’s friendship, and Pippo’s bright face were her pleasantest memories of the life she was leaving. Here, too, were the child’s flowers in her arms. Thus she rode away to Sangdieu, as we have seen. * * * * * Isabel rejoiced at her departure, felt herself free for the matter she had in hand. Throwing aside all thought of a certain night that June, she yet retained in part the memory of the words then given her. “That which thou dost desire is above thee. Yet must thou stoop to attain it.” On the further speech she did not care to dwell. This utterance sufficed her. Quick-witted, she saw very clearly the significance therein. It behooved her merely to act upon it. Here was a delicate matter, requiring careful handling. She had no mind to see herself caught in the meshes she would spread for another, a thing just possible to her shrewd thinking. She must throw the light cords deftly, that no breath of fancy should recoil them on herself. This, for all the seeming poetry of the task, would require an exceeding level head, a cool and very calculating judgment. With care she conned the part she saw herself about to play, marked her entrance with the meshes, made very sure of her exits. Having it to her mind at her finger tips she waited for Chance to set the stage. To leave matters to Chance is at times to leave matters half way to the Devil. An’ he is so minded he will come the other half to meet them. Verily to my thinking he did so now, took them in hand and arranged them with age-old skill, exceeding simply. And to this purpose he used a garden for his first setting. * * * * * Isabel walking in the garden one morning of soft air and sunshine saw Peregrine by the sundial. A favourite position this for our Jester.