But the stranger, with a mournful gesture of farewell, had disappeared as rapidly as he had come.
But, as to why he had disappeared, we must ask our reader's patience for another chapter.
CHAPTER VI
THE UNKNOWN
The scene is now shifted, sideways and forwards, so as to put it at Muddlenut Chase, and to make it a fortnight later than the events related in the last chapter.
Winnifred is now at the Chase as the guest of the Marquis and Marchioness. There her bruised soul finds peace.
The Chase itself was one of those typical country homes which are, or were till yesterday, the glory of England. The approach to the Chase lay through twenty miles of glorious forest, filled with fallow deer and wild bulls. The house itself, dating from the time of the Plantagenets, was surrounded by a moat covered with broad lilies and floating green scum. Magnificent peacocks sunned themselves on the terraces, while from the surrounding shrubberies there rose the soft murmur of doves, pigeons, bats, owls and partridges.
Here sat Winnifred Clair day after day upon the terrace recovering her strength, under the tender solicitude of the Marchioness.
Each day the girl urged upon her noble hostess the necessity of her departure. "Nay," said the Marchioness, with gentle insistence, "stay where you are. Your soul is bruised. You must rest."
"Alas," cried Winnifred, "who am I that I should rest? Alone, despised, buffeted by fate, what right have I to your kindness?"