"I have just told you; it was about a fortnight ago."
"And was the constable sure it was she?"
"He can take his oath to it, he saith; he also rushed after her to take her, but she escaped in the darkness. Some say she tripped the constable up, and blew out the candle in his lantern. However, it may be all a mistake, especially as since that time the whole district hath been searched, and nought hath come of it. Especially hath search been made at Goodlands, the place which belonged to Sir John Leslie, but not a sight of her hath there been."
"And what hath become of Goodlands?" I asked, with a fast beating heart.
"Oh, it still appertaineth to the Leslies. It seems that the king is still determined to capture the pretty Constance, and so he hath done nought by Sir John's estates except to appropriate the rents. He believes that sooner or later the daughters will claim their property, and by this means he will be able to lay hands upon them. I am told that at present one of Leslie's farmers lives in the house."
I did not speak concerning this, nevertheless my heart beat high with hope. I had heard Constance say that when she was once in her father's house at Goodlands she had no fear of searchers. Was it not possible that she had escaped thither, and was still in hiding? I knew that her heart would go out in sympathy with the distressed clergyman who had been driven from his parish, and his vicarage, and that she would seek to bring him food and comfort. What more likely then than my father's story was true. But as I have said I was silent, for I knew that he would not be likely to think of her as I did.
"That is all there is to tell," he said presently, and I saw that his eyes rested searchingly on me, as though he would read the thoughts in my mind.
"What are you going to do?" he continued at length.
"I am going to find her," I said.
"And then?"