* * * * *

So soon as the coast was clear, and the last sound of the horses was
died away on the hill beyond the Castle Inn--for the men rode fast and
hard to catch me--I was out and away in the opposite direction, to
Puckeridge; but first we brought the horses back as softly as we could,
with James (who, like a good servant had not stirred an inch from his
orders through all the tumult which he had heard plainly enough from the
meadow), round to the head of the little lane that leads from Hormead
Magna into Hare Street. There we waited, I say, all four of us in
silence, until we heard the hoofs no more; and then James and I mounted
on our horses.

I had said scarcely a word to Dorothy, nor she to me; for we both felt,
I think, that there was no great need of words after such an adventure,
and that it had knit us closer together than any words could do; and,
besides, that was no place to talk. Yet it was not all pure joy; for
here was the knowledge which we both had, that I must go away, and that
God only knew when I should get back again; and, whatever that knowledge
was to Dorothy, it was as a sword for pain to me. As for my Cousin Tom,
he was no better than a dummy; for he was still terrified at all that
had happened, and at the magistrate's words to him. I told them both,
while we were still in the house, that I must go to London, partly for
that that was the last place in the world that any would look for me in,
and partly--(but this I told neither of them)--for that I must return
the packet to His Majesty: and I said that from London I would go to
France for a little, until it seemed safe for me to get back again. But
there, waiting in the dark, I said nothing at all; but before I mounted
I kissed Dorothy on the cheek; and her cheek was wet, but whether with
the feigned tears she had shed in the house, or with tears even dearer