IV
She scarcely knew how circumstances had arranged themselves up to the time when she found herself riding away again with Alice, while a man of Mr. Audrey's led her horse. They could not talk freely till he left them at the place where the stony road turned to a soft track, and it was safe going once more. Then Alice told her own side of it.
"Yes, my dear; I heard him call out. I was walking in the hall with Janet to keep ourselves warm. But when I ran in he was sitting down, and you were standing. What was the matter?"
"Alice," said the girl earnestly, "I wish you had not come in. He is very heart-broken, I think. He would have told me more, I think. It is about his son."
"His son! Why, he—"
"Yes; I know that. And he would not see him if he came back. He has had his magistrate's commission; and he will be true to it. But he is heart-broken for all that. He has not really lost the Faith, I think."
"Why, my dear; that is foolish. He is very hot in Derby, I hear, against the Papists. There was a poor woman who could not pay her fines; and—"
Marjorie waved it aside.
"Yes; he would be very hot; but for all that, there is his son Robin you know—and his memories. And Robin has not written to him for six months. That would be about the time when he told him he was to be a magistrate."
Then Marjorie told her of the whole that had passed, and of his mention of the FitzHerberts.