“Isabel,” said Anthony, “tell me if you hear anything.”
She looked at him, suddenly startled.
“No, no,” he said, “there is nothing to fear; it is probably my fancy; but listen and tell me.”
She listened intently. There was the creaking of her own saddle, the soft footfalls of the horses, the hum of the summer woods, and the sound of the servants’ horses behind.
“No,” she said, “there is nothing beyond——”
“There!” he said suddenly; “now do you hear it?”
Then she heard plainly the sound either of a man running, or of a horse walking, somewhere behind them.
“Yes,” she said, “I hear something; but what of it?”
“It is the third time I have heard it,” he said: “once in the woods behind Longfield, and once just before the little village with the steepled church.”
The sound had ceased again.