“Nay,” said her lord, “my dear Sophia, here we have no right to interfere. Ellinor has sufficient experience of the world to be left to her own devices. I understand that Colonel Harcourt and Mr. Herrick are neither of them a mean _parti_, and, unless I am seriously mistaken, the younger man at least is genuinely enamoured. By what right can we permit our own secret wishes, our own rather wild match-making plans, to step in here?” “Oh, dear!” sighed Sophia. “And we were so comfortable!” The two stood arm-in-arm at the lych-gate and absently watched the last of their parishioners straggling homeward in groups through the avenue trees. Suddenly Madam Tutterville touched her husband’s arm and pointed with a dramatic gesture in the direction of the House. Two tall slight figures were moving side by side across the sunlit green. Even as the rector looked a third, emerging from the shadows of the beeches, joined them with sweeping gestures of greeting. “They have been, I declare, lying in wait for Ellinor ... and there she goes off between them, Sunday morning and all!” Deeply shocked and annoyed was Madam Tutterville. “I think,” said the parson, “that I will take an hour’s rest in the garden. I would, my dear Sophia, you had as soothing an acquaintance, on such an occasion as Ovid.” CHAPTER IV A SHOCK AND A REVELATION Into these sacred shades (quoth she) How dar’st thou be so bold To enter, consecrate to me, Or touch this hallowed mould? —MICHAEL DRAYTON (_Quest of Cynthia_). Ellinor sat on the stone bench in the Herb-Garden, gazing disconsolately at the flourishing bed of _Euphrosinum_—at the Star-of-Comfort—and reviewing the events of the past days with a heavy and discomforted heart. It is but seldom now that she could find a few minutes of solitude, so many were the claims upon her time. For, besides the household duties and Master Simon’s unconscious tyranny, she was subjected to a kind of persecution of admiration on the part of Bindon’s male guests. There were times, indeed, when Colonel Harcourt’s shadowing attendance became so embarrassing that she was glad to turn to the protection which the boyish worship of Luke Herrick afforded. With the former she felt instinctively that under an almost exaggerated gentleness and deference there lurked a gathering danger; whereas the youthful poet, however exuberant in his devotion, was not only a harmless, but a sympathetic companion.