... Marjorie smiled to herself as she
nursed her knee over the fire, and remembered his gaiety and sharpness.
Robin, too, was never very far from her thoughts. In some manner she put
the two together in her mind. She wondered whether they would ever
travel together. It was her hope that her old friend might become
another Campion himself some day.
A log rolled from its place in the fire, scattering sparks. She stooped
to put it back, glancing first at the bed to see if her mother were
disturbed; and, as she sat back again, she heard the blowing of a horse
and a man's voice, fierce and low, from beyond the windows, bidding the
beast hold himself up.
She was accustomed now to such arrivals. They came and went like this,
often without warning; it was her business to look at any credentials
they bore with them, and then, if all were well, to do what she
could-whether to set them on their way, or to give them shelter. A room
was set aside now, in the further wing, and called openly and freely the
"priest's room,"--so great was their security.
She got up from her seat and went out quickly on tiptoe as she heard a
door open and close beneath her in the house, running over in her mind
any preparations that she would have to make if the rider were one that
needed shelter.
As she looked down the staircase, she saw a maid there, who had run out
from the buttery, talking to a man whom she thought she knew. Then he
lifted his face, and she saw that she was right: and that it was Mr.
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