"
"Unless," said Feversham, slowly, "one has made a mistake. Suppose the
face in the crowd is a mask, what then? One may make mistakes."
Ethne shook her head decidedly.
"Of that kind, no. One may seem to have made mistakes, and perhaps for a
long while. But in the end one would be proved not to have made them."
And the girl's implicit faith took hold upon the man and tortured him,
so that he could no longer keep silence.
"Ethne," he cried, "you don't know--" But at that moment Ethne reined
in her horse, laughed, and pointed with her whip.
They had come to the top of a hill a couple of miles from Ramelton. The
road ran between stone walls enclosing open fields upon the left, and a
wood of oaks and beeches on the right. A scarlet letter-box was built
into the left-hand wall, and at that Ethne's whip was pointed.
"I wanted to show you that," she interrupted. "It was there I used to
post my letters to you during the anxious times." And so Feversham let
slip his opportunity of speech.
"The house is behind the trees to the right," she continued.
"The letter-box is very convenient," said Feversham.
"Yes," said Ethne, and she drove on and stopped again where the park
wall had crumbled.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60