“Forgive me,” she said gently, “I know it, Alice, but I cannot be advised—I must find him.” She stopped, her face white under the hood that the girl was adjusting: “O Alice, he may be dying!”
CHAPTER XX
LADY BETTY’S SEARCH
THOUGH the stars were out, the night was black as pitch and the courtyard of the inn was only lighted by the broad bands of red that flared across it from the gaping doors of hall and kitchen, serving to make the surrounding darkness more palpable. So it was that Lady Betty and Alice—cloaked and hooded—nearly stumbled against young Mackie, and would not have known him but for his exclamation of impatience. He took them for kitchen wenches, and when Lady Betty cried out his name, he stopped short with a gasp of sheer amazement.
“Oh, Sir Edward, ’twas you—of all men—I wanted to see!” she cried.
Poor Mackie, if he could have taken her at her word! But, alas, her tone belied her words and his heart sank drearily.
“You here, my lady!” he exclaimed, “what has happened? I am at your service; I pray you—”