Susan bids good-bye again to Ella, who is looking a little subdued and uncertain now; Carew does the same, holding her hand lingeringly, as if wishing to say something sympathetic to her, but finding words fail him. Wyndham, following him and Susan, would have passed through the gate into the road outside, but that Ella, with a quick, softly-spoken word, full of emotion, stops him. ‘I have done something wrong,’ says she, in a breathless whisper. ‘Wait—do wait—one moment, and tell me, tell me—’ Tears are standing thick within her eyes. ‘There is much to tell you,’ says he impatiently. ‘But no time in which to tell it.’ ‘About—’ Her face pales, and she looks eagerly at him, laying even a restraining hand upon his arm in her growing fear. ‘Yes—about that fellow.’ ‘Mr. Moore?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Oh, you will stay—you will tell me!’ cries she, in low but panting tones. ‘Oh, don’t leave me in suspense. Even if you can’t stay now, you can come back again, if only for five minutes! Oh, do! You will? He—’ She looks as if she were going to faint. ‘There is no need for fear of that sort,’ says he quickly. ‘He knows nothing of you, or where you are. Yes, if I can’—reluctantly—‘I will come back.’ He follows the others now, and as he reaches Susan and Carew, they all three distinctly hear the click of the lock of the garden-gate behind them. Susan looks at Wyndham in a startled way. ‘I—I think someone must have been very unkind to her,’ says she; ‘don’t you? To lock herself up like that, and never to want to see anybody. Mr. Wyndham, why don’t you try to find out her enemies?’ ‘I am trying,’ says Wyndham, looking into the calm, earnest, intelligent eyes raised to his. ‘Father would help you,’ says Susan. ‘Was it because of that you wanted to see him to-day?’ ‘Yes,’ says Wyndham. There is no time for more. Mr. Barry is coming up the road. He had evidently seen them all come out of the green gate of the Cottage. His face is grave and stern. CHAPTER XXVII. ‘Mystery magnifies danger, as a fog the sun.’ His greeting to Wyndham is of the coldest. He does not speak to him, but turns at once to Susan. ‘Your aunt wants you,’ says he severely. And the girl, a little chilled, a little apprehensive, disappears within the Rectory gate, carrying Carew, a most unwilling captive, with her. When she is gone, the Rector faces Wyndham. ‘How is this, Wyndham?’ asks he quietly, yet with unmistakable indignation. ‘How is what?’ asks the young man a little haughtily. ‘Was it you who took Susan into that cottage?’ ‘No; but even if it had been, I see no cause for the tone you have assumed towards me.’ ‘That is what I suppose you call “carrying it off,”’ says the Rector, his pale face betraying a fine disgust. ‘Mr. Barry!’ says Wyndham, as if the other had struck him.