“Yes:  yes,” she said.

“He has behaved abominably, however,” I said, “and I shall tell him so.  Dolly, my love.”

“Yes,” said she.

“I must go back very soon to town.  I have been offered a piece of work; and even if I do not accept it, I must speak of it to them.”

“Them?”

“Yes, my dear.  I must say no more than that.  It is secretum commissum as we say in Rome.”

“And to think that you were a Benedictine novice!” exclaimed Dolly.

We talked awhile of that then; she asked me a number of questions that may be imagined under such circumstances:  and my answers also can be imagined; and we spoke of a great number of things, she and I riding side by side in the dark, our very horses friendly one with another—­she telling me all of how she went to Court, and why she went, and I telling her my side of the affair—­until at last in Puckeridge a man ran out from the inn yard to say that our party was within and waiting for us.  They had met, it appeared, a rustic fellow who had set them right, soon after they had lost us.

I do not know what they thought at first; but I know what they thought in the end; for I rated them very soundly for not keeping nearer to us; and bade James ride ahead with the lantern with all the rest between, and Dolly and I in the rear to keep them from straying again.  In this manner then did she and I contrive to have a great deal more conversation before we came a little before midnight to Hare Street.

The village was all dark as we came through it; and all dark was the House when we pushed open the yard gates and rode in.  We went through and beat upon the door, and presently heard a window thrown up.

“Who is there?” cried my Cousin Tom’s voice.

I bade Dolly’s maid answer. (She was all perplexed, poor wench, at the change of relations between her mistress and me.)

“It is Mistress Jermyn, sir,” she said.

“Yes, father; I have come back,” cried Dolly.

There was an exclamation from poor Tom; and in two or three minutes we saw a light beneath the door, and heard him drawing the bolts.  I pushed Dolly and her maid forward as the door opened, and then myself strode suddenly forward into the light.

“Why—­God bless—­” cried Tom; who was in his coat and shoes.  I could see how his face fell when he saw me.  I looked at him very grimly:  but I said nothing to him at once (for I was sorely tempted to laugh at his apparition), but turned to James and bade him see to the rest and find beds somewhere.  Then I went after Dolly and her father into the Great Chamber, still with my hat on my head and looking very stern.  He was talking very swiftly in a low voice to Dolly; but he stopped when I came in.

“Yes, Cousin Tom,” I said, “I am come back again—­all unlooked for, as I see.”

“But, good God!” he cried.  “What is the matter; and why is Dolly here?  I was but just asking—­”