The hour was not very late, and had she not commanded him to go?
Nor would he seem to pry on her movements.

Having once made up his mind to obey, he did so without reserve.

Having kissed the hem of her kirtle he turned towards the house.
He meant to keep on the tiny footpath, which she would be bound to traverse after him, when she returned.

He felt sure that something would warn him if she really needed his help.
The park and woodland were still: only the mournful hooting of an owl, the sad sighing of the wind in the old elms broke the peaceful silence of this summer's night..