"Your ladyship's pardon," said John, respectfully, "but there's a coach coming up the road from Hartington way. I thought perhaps it might be more prudent..."
"Hartington!"
Brother and sister had uttered the exclamation simultaneously. He in astonishment, she in obvious alarm.
"Who can it be, John, think you?" she asked with quivering lips.
"Well, it couldn't very well be anyone except Sir Humphrey Challoner, my lady. No one else'd have occasion to come down these God-forsaken roads. But they are some way off yet," he added reassuringly, "I saw them first on the crest of the further hill. Maybe his Honour is on his way to Derby."
Patience was trying to conquer her agitation, but it was her turn now to seem nervous and excited.
"Oh! I didn't want him to find me here!" she said quickly. "I ... I mistrust that man, Philip ... foolishly perhaps, and ... if he sees me ... he might guess ... he might suspect..."
"Nay, my lady, there's not much fear of that, craving your pardon," hazarded John Stich, cheerfully. "If 'tis Sir Humphrey 'twill take his driver some time yet to walk down the incline, and then up again to the cross-roads. 'Tis a mile and a half for sure, and the horses'll have to go foot pace. There's plenty of time for your ladyship to be well on your way before they get here."
She felt reassured evidently, for she said more calmly,—
"I'll have to put up somewhere, John, for a few hours, for the sake of the horses. Where had that best be?"