"My friends live at Bristol," she answered with a touch of reserve in her tone; "and I have come to N— on business about—about myself."
"On business about yourself!" he exclaimed, laughing, evidently amused at her reply; "and you mean to keep it to yourself, I perceive. Well, you're quite right. Come, Lion, we must be moving on, old boy."
"Oh, please, will you tell me the time?" demanded Felicia eagerly. "Is it seven o'clock yet?"
"Not quite, It is—let me see—" he looked at his watch—"it is half-past six exactly."
"Thank you. How long I must have slept! Two hours at least. Good evening!" and she hurried across the meadow in the direction of the gate.
The gentleman followed the small, black-gowned figure, wondering who the child could be, whilst, much to his surprise, he observed that the dog kept close to her side, though he glanced back at his master now and then to see if he was following.
Felicia climbed over the gate, the dog leaping it after her; then she walked at a more sedate pace, for she did not wish to arrive at the Priory in a breathless condition. At the entrance to the Priory grounds she glanced back and saw the gentleman not far behind, and before she had gone half the distance of the carriage drive he had overtaken her.
"Where are you going?" he demanded in a peremptory tone. "Do you know where this leads?"
"Yes, to the Priory," she responded. "I am going to see Mr. Renford. I called more than two hours ago, but he was not in then, so I'm going to find out if he's come home. Oh, I do hope he has!"
"What is your business with him?" he inquired, laying a detaining hand on her shoulder; "come, child, speak out and tell me."