"When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray----"
Miss Blake had never in her life cared for the song, but it bore now a singular charm. Every word was distinct, and she listened to the end. A curious speculation crossed her.
Was this young girl singing the lines in character? "Heaven help her then!" cried Miss Blake--for she was not all hardness.
But how was she, herself, to get away? She might remain there unsought for ever. There was nothing for it but boldly showing herself. And, as the servant was then coming back across the lawn with some herbs which she had apparently been to gather, Miss Blake wound out of the maze, and presented herself before the woman's astonished eyes.
She made the best excuse she could. Had wandered inside the gate, attracted by the mass of beautiful trees, and lost herself amidst them. After a pause of wondering consideration, the servant understood how it must have been--that she had got in during her temporary absence from the gate when she went to fetch the butcher's book; and she knew what a long while she must have been there.
"I'll let you out," she said. "It's a pity you came in."
Very rapidly the woman walked on through the maze, Miss Blake following her. There were turnings and twistings, amid which the latter strove to catch some clue to the route. In vain. One turning, one path seemed just like another.
"Does your mistress live quite alone here?" she asked of the servant.
"Yes, ma'am," was the reply, more civilly spoken--for, that the servant had been at first much put out by the occurrence, her manner testified. "She's all alone, except for me and my old man."
"Your old man?" exclaimed Miss Blake questioningly.