She drew a deep breath, her eyes shadowed, but I could hear the swift pulsing of her heart.
"Of course; only a memory to dream over."
Her lashes lifted, her head tilted back upon my shoulder. For a bare instant I gazed down into the depths.
With the words I kissed her, pressing my lips to hers; an instant they clung, and I felt the pressure of her arm, the hot blood rioting through my veins.
"No, no!" and she thrust me from her. "You forget. I am not that. You must not think it even. See, that man is coming down the steps. He will discover Captain Grant, and it will be too late--Oh, go, Major, please go!"
I turned without another word, fully realizing the danger, the necessity of action. Her hand touched mine as I grasped the rein.
"We part friends," she said softly. "Some day you may understand and forgive me."
"I understand now more than you think," I returned swiftly, "and I am coming back to learn all."
The thicket was sufficiently dense to conceal us from the man, who remained standing at the foot of the steps. He was but a mere dark shadow, and I could not even distinguish that he was a soldier, yet the danger of his presence was sufficiently great, for should he advance to the right he would come upon Grant's unconscious form, and in that silence the slightest noise might arouse suspicion. Mistress Claire still clung to my hand, but only to whisper a sentence of instruction.
"Go straight north, Major, until you reach the hedge; follow the shadow of that beyond the orchard, and then take the road running westward. Don't mount until you reach there--good-bye."
"I--I am afraid not, but--but you must go!"
I left her standing there, a faint gleam of white against the dark shrubbery, motionless. Grasping the bit of the horse I picked my course slowly across the lawn, watchful that the intervening thicket hid my movements, the soft carpet of grass muffling every sound. We reached the hedge,--a high, impassable barrier to further progress in that direction, but here the shadows were sufficiently dense for us to proceed faster, with little peril of discovery. There were no sounds of alarm from the house, by this time barely visible, but we continued on a walk until the orchard was skirted, and I felt beneath my feet the ruts of a road running east and west. I waited long enough to adjust the stirrups, which were too short, listening intently for any sounds of pursuit. The house could no longer be seen, and the night was quiet as a grave. What had become of Claire? Was she still hiding at the edge of the thicket, or had she found means of attaining shelter within the house? It was useless to speculate, and I could better serve her by going my way. I swung up into the saddle, and the horse broke into a lope.