A moment or two later Ermengarde softly opened the door of the sleeping-room and went out. It was ten o'clock, and the household, tired from the day's pleasuring, were all preparing to go to bed. Ermengarde ran along the corridor, flew downstairs the back way, and found herself in the schoolroom part of the house. She took her waterproof cloak and an old garden-hat from a peg on the wall, and let herself out by a side-door. If she ran very fast she would probably be back before George, the old butler, had drawn the bolts and put the chain on for the night. If not, she knew that it would not be difficult to open one of the schoolroom windows, which were low, and as often as not unhasped. Ermengarde had herself noticed that the bolt of one was not fastened that evening. If the worst came, she could return to her little bed that way, but she fully expected to be in time to come back by the door.
The moment she got out, she slipped on her waterproof and hat, and then, with the speed and lightness of a little fawn, flew down the narrow pathway which led first to the park, and then across it to the keeper's cottage.
The moonlight lay in silver bars over the grass, and when Ermengarde got under the trees their great shadows looked black and portentous. At another time she might have felt some sensations of fear at finding herself at so late an hour alone in the woods, but she was too intent now on the object of her mission to have any room for nervousness. She was out of breath when she reached the cottage, but to her relief saw that its inmates were not yet in bed, for light shone from the kitchen and also from Susy's bedroom.
Ermengarde's knock at the kitchen door was answered by Mrs. Collins herself.
"Oh, Miss Wilton, I am pleased to see you," she said. "Susy was fretting ever so for fear you wouldn't be able to keep your word. Come in, miss, please; and has Master Basil come with you? or maybe it's Hudson? I hope whoever it is will be pleased to walk in and wait in the kitchen."
"No, I've come alone," said Ermengarde shortly. "You know I am not allowed to be with Susy, so how could I possibly ask anyone to come with me?"
"Oh, my dear young lady, as if my poor child could harm any one! You are good and brave, Miss Ermengarde; as brave as you're beautiful, and I'm sure we'll none of us ever forget it to you. No, that we won't."
Ermengarde was never proof against flattery. A satisfied smile stole now over her face.
"I was not at all afraid," she said. "I had given my word that I would come, and of course a lady's word must always be kept. How is Susy, Mrs. Collins?"
"Oh, my dear, but poorly. Very fractious and feverish, and her pain is considerable. But she'll be better after she has seen you, my sweet young lady, for no one knows better than Susy how to appreciate condescension."