At the unexpected sound of the bells the horses broke into a quick trot. The monk, startled at the clatter of hoofs so near, turned suddenly and looked in their direction. As he caught sight of Marcia’s and Sybert’s eyes upon him, and knew that they had seen, a quick flush spread over his thin dark face, and turning away he bowed his head again. Marcia broke the silence with a low laugh as they rode on into the shade of the cypresses. ‘He thought we were——’ and then she stopped. ‘Lovers too,’ said Sybert. ‘Poor devil! I suppose he thinks the world is full of lovers outside his monastery walls. There,’ he added, ‘is a man who is living for an idea.’ ‘And is beginning to suspect that it is the wrong one.’ He shot her a quick glance of comprehension. ‘Ah, there’s the rub,’ he returned, a trifle soberly—‘when you begin to suspect your idea’s the wrong one.’ They rode on down the hill into the darkening valley. They were going the straight way home now, and the horses knew it. They were still in the hills when the twilight faded, and a young moon, just beyond the crescent, took its place, riding high in a sky scattered thick with flying clouds. It was a wild, wet, windy night, though on the lower levels the roads were fairly dry: the storm had evidently wasted its fury on the heights. It was too fast a pace to admit much talking, and they both contented themselves with their thoughts. Only once did Marcia break the silence. ‘I feel as if we were carrying the good news from Ghent to Aix!’ Sybert laughed and quoted softly:— ‘Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace— Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place—— Kentucky Lil would make quite a Roland,’ he broke off. ‘She’s the nicest horse I ever rode,’ said Marcia. As they turned in at the villa gates she said contritely, ‘I didn’t know it would take so long; I’m afraid, Mr. Sybert, that I’ve made you very late!’ ‘Perhaps I like adventures too,’ he smiled; ‘and you and I, Miss Marcia, have travelled far to-day.’ CHAPTER XIV AS they galloped up the long avenue under the arching trees, the villa presently came into view. The sound of laughing voices floated out from the open windows. Marcia drew rein with a half-involuntary cry of dismay. The Roystons had come. ‘I’d forgotten!’ she explained to her companion. ‘We’re giving a dinner-party to-night.’ At the sound of the clattering hoofs on the gravel of the driveway a gay group poured out on to the loggia, welcoming the dilatory riders with laughter and questions and greetings. ‘My dear child! Where have you been?’ ‘Here, Pietro; call some one to take the horses.’ ‘Is this the way you welcome guests? I shall never——’ ‘Dinner’s been waiting half an hour. We were beginning to think——’ ‘I’ve been worried to death! You haven’t caught cold, have you?’