Audrey

They left the forest behind, and came to open fields where the tobacco had

been beaten to earth. The trees now stood singly or in shivering copses.

Above, the heavens were bare to their gaze, and the lightning gave

glimpses of pale castles overhanging steel-gray, fathomless abysses. The

road widened, and the bay was pushed by its rider to Mirza's side. Fields

of corn where the long blades wildly clashed, a wood of dripping cedars, a

patch of Oronoko, tobacco house in midst, rising ground and a vision of

the river, then a swift descent to the lower creek, and the bridge across

which lay the road that ran to the minister's house. Audrey spoke

earnestly to the master of Fair View, and after a moment's hesitation he

drew rein. "We will not cross, Colonel," he declared. "My preserver will

have it that she has troubled us long enough; and indeed it is no great

distance to the glebe house, and the rain has stopped. Have down with

thee, then, obstinate one!"

Audrey slipped to the earth, and pushed back her hair from her eyes.

Colonel Byrd observed her curiously. "Faith," he exclaimed, "'tis the

Atalanta of last May Day! Well, child, I believe thou hast saved our

lives. Come, here are three gold baubles that may pass for Hippomenes'

apples!"

Audrey put her hands behind her. "I want no money, sir. What I did was a

gift; it has no price." She was only Darden's Audrey, but she spoke as

proudly as a princess might have spoken. Haward smiled to hear her; and

seeing the smile, she was comforted. "For he understands," she said to

herself. "He would never hurt me so." It did not wound her that he said no

word, but only lifted his hat, when she curtsied to them both. There was

to-morrow, and he would praise her then for her quickness of wit and her

courage in following Hugon, whom she feared so much.

The riders watched her cross the bridge and turn into the road that led to

the glebe house, then kept their own road in silence until it brought them

to the doors of Fair View.

It was an hour later, and drawing toward dusk, when the Colonel, having

changed his wet riding clothes for a suit of his friend's, came down the

stairs and entered the Fair View drawing-room. Haward, in green, with rich

lace at throat and wrist, was there before him, walking up and down in the

cheerful light of a fire kindled against the dampness. "No sign of our

men," he said, as the other entered. "Come to the fire. Faith, Colonel, my

russet and gold becomes you mightily! Juba took you the aqua vitæ?"

"Ay, in one of your great silver goblets, with a forest of mint atop. Ha,

this is comfort!" He sank into an armchair, stretched his legs before the

blaze, and began to look about him. "I have ever said, Haward, that of

all the gentlemen of my acquaintance you have the most exact taste. I told

Bubb Dodington as much, last year, at Eastbury. Damask, mirrors,

paintings, china, cabinets,--all chaste and quiet, extremely elegant, but

without ostentation! It hath an air, too. I would swear a woman had the

placing of yonder painted jars!"