By this time the woman was out of sight, while I turned my horse's face towards London, and rode a few miles in that direction before returning to the house.
It was drawing towards evening when I got back, and on entering the house I found that my father had given orders that he should be informed of my return.
"Roland," he said when at length I went to him, "will you come with me into the library?"
"Yes," I said, wondering at his grave demeanour.
When I entered the library I almost gave a start, for in the room was the woman I had seen in the park. She looked up at me, and there was, as I thought, a bold and defiant expression in her eyes. She did not look like a woman of birth and breeding, and yet no one would regard her as a common serving woman. She possessed an air approaching gentility, and although her clothes were much worn, they were of good material.
"More mother than father," I heard her say.
I looked at her awkwardly, for I knew not how to address her, and although I lifted my hat and bowed as I would to a lady of my own degree, I did so constrainedly, not feeling comfortable in her presence.
"This is Mistress Katharine Harcomb," said my father. "She dwelt here before you were born."
The woman gave a laugh, which was half-defiant, half amused.
"Ay, I dwelt here before you were born, Master Roland; since then I have been dead, and now I am alive again."