She tore a piece of paper out of her pocket-book, and scribbled a few lines hastily.
"Dear Father,—I have seen Mr. Spens. Don't despair. I am doing my best for you.
Frances."
"I shall be back before nightfall," said Frances, giving the note to the lad. "Drive home quickly, Pete. See that Bob has a feed of oats, and a groom-down after his journey. I shall be home at latest by nightfall."
CHAPTER VIII.
FOR THE SAKE OF THREE HUNDRED A YEAR.
For nearly another quarter of a mile Frances walked quickly under the friendly elm-trees. Then she came to some massive and beautifully wrought iron gates, and paused for an instant, pressing her hand to her brow.
"Shall I go on?" said she to herself. "It means giving up Philip—it means deliberately crushing a very bright hope."
She remained quite still for several seconds longer. Her lips, which were white and tired-looking, moved silently. She raised her eyes, and looked full into the blue deep of the sky; and then she turned in at one of the gates, and walked up an exquisitely kept carriage drive.