My father descended the bank into the road. The stranger muttered something inaudible, which my father ignored. “We had better start,” he said, calmly. “It is rather a long way.” The man whom my father had called Stephen hesitated and drew back. “The young lady,” he suggested, faintly--”she will come with us.” “The young lady has an engagement in another direction,” he said, with his eyes fixed on me. “I want you, Kate, to call upon Mr. Charlsworth and tell him to be sure to be at church to-night. You can tell him why it is important.” There was a ring in my father’s tone, and a light in the glance which he flashed upon me which forbade any idea of remonstrance. Yet at the thought of leaving those two men together a cold chill seemed to pass through all my veins. Something seemed to tell me that this was no ordinary meeting. The man Berdenstein’s look of terror as he had recognized my father was unmistakable. Even now he was afraid to go with him. Yet I was powerless, I dared not disobey. Already the two men were walking side by side. I was left alone, and the farmhouse to which my father had bidden me go lay in altogether a different direction. I stood and watched them pass along the lane together. Then I went on my errand. There was nothing else I could do. * * * * * I reached home in about an hour. Alice met me at the door. “Has father come in yet?” I asked her, quickly. She nodded. “About five minutes ago. The walk seemed to have done him good,” she added. “He was quite cheerful, and had a wonderful color. Why, Kate! what have you been doing to yourself? You are as white as a ghost.” “He was alone, I suppose?” I asked, ignoring the question. “Alone! Of course he was alone. Come in and have some tea at once. You look tired out.” CHAPTER IX A TERRIBLE INTERRUPTION By some means or other the news had spread in the village, and such a congregation as I had never seen filled our little church long before the usual time. In a dark corner I saw, to my surprise, Bruce Deville leaning against a pillar with folded arms, and on my way to my pew I passed Adelaide Fortress seated in a chair in the nave. Neither of these two had I ever seen in church before, and what had brought them there on that particular evening I never clearly understood. It was a little irony of fate--one of those impulses which it is hard to believe are altogether coincidences. The Bishop came early, and sat by Lady Naselton’s side, the centre of all eyes. I looked away from him to the chancel. I was strangely nervous. It was still dimly lit, although the bells had ceased to ring. There was only a moment’s pause, however, then the little space was filled with white-robed figures, and my sister’s voluntary, unduly prolonged in this instance, died away in a few soft chords. I drew a long breath of relief. Everything was going as usual. Perhaps, after all this night might be a fateful one to us.