The man chanted a little stave in a low voice, and the door flew open.
"Martin!"
"You are in trouble, mistress, you need not tell me. Much I overheard, the rest I can guess. Lord Rosmore has departed. I met him on the road, at least he passed along the road, and I stood in the wood by the side to see him pass. Mr. Crosby is already busy in Dorsetshire, and I return to hear you are going to London."
"Yes, Martin."
"Dark hours, indeed," he said, "but there is the beam of light."
"It has gone out. Ah, Martin, you are a dreamer and look at the world through a veil of cloud, while I am a woman prone to trust too easily. We are easy to deceive, you and I."
"Yes, dreamer as I am, I have recognised much of the falsehood," said
Martin.
"You like Mr. Gilbert Crosby?"
"One grows to like a man when you have fought by his side in an awkward corner."
"You would trust him?"