“See you, Morgen, go up to London town.”
“And why should I go to London town?”
“Ask for that Westforest and Silver Cross.”
Under the beech tree was carpet of last year’s leaves. She lifted and crumbled them in her hands. “When I said that I would be secret, I meant not telling! They have no call to fear me.”
“Perhaps they tell themselves that. Or perhaps they see faint menace every time they look this way!”
“They promised that trouble should cease. I was going back to my own house over my own garden, by the river that I like to hear by day, by night. They said that Father Edmund should be checked. Presently I was to find that I might slip back—”
“What is promised is not easy sometimes to perform. They will give you gold in London. London is rich, and you are Morgen Fay. Go, and be powerful there!”
“And you—and you? Oh, I remember that you go once in five years to London!”
“If you cried out in Middle Forest market place what was done not a soul would believe you!”