“I’m sorry that I should have given you the impression, Miss Osborne, that Mr. Ardmore and I are friends, as I undoubtedly did at Columbia. He has, for some unaccountable reason, cut my acquaintance in a manner so unlike him that I do not pretend to explain it; nor, I may add, is it of the least importance.”
“I was a little surprised,” returned Barbara, with truly feminine instinct for mingling in the balm of consolation the bitterest and most poisonous herbs, “that you should have had for a friend a man who frankly follows girls whose appearance he fancies. Even Mr. Ardmore’s democratic enthusiasm for the downtrodden laundry girl does not wholly mitigate the winking episode.”
“He had, only a few days ago, invited me to visit him, though I had been to his house so often that the obscurest servant knew that I was privileged even beyond the members of Mr. Ardmore’s own family in my freedom of the place. When I saw that his house would be a convenient point from which to study the Appleweight situation, I wired him that I was on the way, and to my utter amazement he replied that he could not entertain me—that scarlet fever was epidemic on the estate—on those almost uncounted acres!”
And with a gulp and a mist in his eyes, Griswold drew rein and pointed, from a hill that had now borne them to a considerable height, toward Ardsley itself, dreamily basking in the bright morning sunlight within its cinture of hills, meadows, and forest.
“I never saw the place before! It’s perfectly splendid!” cried Barbara, forgetting that Griswold must be gazing upon it with the eyes of an exile viewing grim, forbidding battlements that once hailed him in welcome.
“It’s one of the most interesting houses in America,” observed Griswold, who strove at all times to be just.
“There’s a flag flying—I can’t make out what it is,” said Barbara.
“It’s probably to give warning of the scarlet fever; it would be like Ardy to do that. But we must hurry on to Mount Nebo.”
He knew the ways of Ardsley thoroughly; better, in fact, than its owner ever had in old times; but in his anger at Ardmore he would not set foot on the estate if he could possibly avoid doing so in reaching the scene of the night’s contretemps. He found without difficulty the trail taken by Habersham’s men, and in due course of time they left their horses a short distance from the church and proceeded on foot.
“It seems all the stupider in broad daylight,” said Griswold, after he had explained just what had occurred, and how the captors, in their superstitious awe of Appleweight, had been afraid to carry him off the moment they were sure of him, but had slipped back among their fellows to wait until the coast was perfectly clear. To ease his deep chagrin Barbara laughed a good deal at the occurrence as they tramped over the scene discussing it. They went into the woods back of the church, where Griswold began to exercise his reasoning powers.