"Where did you go that night?"
"I do not know; but in the morning I found myself in our great pasture and was ill. Some instinct led me home, and, as usual, I had gone across lots." Then he told the story of that day and night and the illness that followed.
"I, too, was ill," said Polly, "and I thought you were cruel not to come to me. When I began to go out of doors they told me you were low with fever. Then I got ready to go to you, and that very day I saw you pass the door. I thought surely you would come to see me, but—but you went away."
Polly's lips were trembling, and she covered her eyes a moment with her handkerchief.
"I feared to be unwelcome," said he.
"You and every one, except my mother, was determined that I should marry Roberts," Polly went on. "He has been urgent, but you, Sidney, you wouldn't have me. You have done everything you could to help him. Now I've found you, and I'm going to tell you all, and you've got to listen to me. He has proof, he says, that you are guilty of another crime, and—and he says you are now a fugitive trying to escape arrest."
A little silence followed, in which Trove was thinking of the Hope letters and of Roberts' claim that he was engaged to Polly.
"You have been wrapped in mysteries long enough. I shall not let you go until you explain," she continued.
"There's no mystery about this," said Trove, calmly. "Roberts is a rascal, and that's the reason I'm here."
She turned quickly with a look of surprise.