"But you do not desire to go to Polperro?"
I was silent, but I hoped that she understood my feelings.
"In three hours, four at the most, we ought to be at our journey's end if we ride hard," she said, "until then I ask you to trust me."
With this I was fain to be content, and almost ashamed of myself, we continued to ride southward. An hour later I saw that my suspicions were groundless. We were going away from Polperro. After we had passed Lostwithiel I asked her to be the guide, but she told me to lead on to St. Austell, after which she would choose the road.
About two hours after dark we entered a part of the country that was strange to me, but my guide evidently knew the road well, for in spite of the darkness she never hesitated as to the way we should take. Presently we came to a lane, down which we rode for some distance, and then stopped at a small house, which in the darkness looked to me like a lodge. No sooner did we stop than a light shone, and a minute later I heard a gate swing on rusty hinges.
"All well?"
"All well," was the reply, which I judged was spoken by an old man.
We passed through the open way, after which I heard some one lock the gates.
By this time the sky, which had been cloudy all day, cleared. There was no moon, but the stars shone clearly overhead. As well as I could I looked around me, and saw that we were riding along what seemed to me a disused carriage drive. Huge trees bordered the way, the branches of which nearly met overhead. The leaves were far from fully grown, however; and thus looking upward I could see the stars twinkling.
The memory of that night will never leave me. Even now the feelings which possessed me then come back. Everything seemed unreal. The dark trees on either side of the way looked like tall spectres, the women who had been with me since the previous night seemed mere phantoms of the mind. The clank of the horses' hoofs grated on my excited nerves until I felt like crying out.