“Useful?” asked Anne.

“Yes.  I have been watching for the moment to tell you, Anne; I have resolved what to do.  I intend to make a few campaigns there against the enemy of Christendom.”

“O Mr. Archfield!” was all she could say.

“See here, I have perceived plainly that to sink down into my lady’s eldest son is no wholesome life for a man with all his powers about him.  I understand now what a set of oafs we were to despise the poor fellow you wot of, because he was not such a lubber as ourselves.  I have no mind to go through the like.”

“You are so different; it could not be the same.”

“Not quite; but remember there is nothing for me to do.  My father is still an active man, and I am not old enough to take my part in public affairs, even if I loved greatly either the Prince of Orange or King James.  I could not honestly draw my sword for either.  I have no estate to manage, my child’s inheritance is all in money, and it would drive me mad, or worse, to go home to be idle.  No; I will fight against the common enemy till I have made me a name, and won reputation and standing; or if I should not come back, there’s the babe at home to carry on the line.”

“Oh, sir! your father and mother—­Lucy—­all that love you.  What will they say?”

“It would only put them to needless pain to ask them.  I shall not.  I shall write explaining all my motives—­all except one, and that you alone know, Anne.”

She shuddered a little, and felt him press her arm tightly.  They had fallen a good deal behind the marquis and his cousin, and were descending as twilight fell into a narrow, dark, lonely street, with all the houses shut up.  “No one has guessed, have they?” she faltered.

“Not that I know of.  But I cannot—­no!  I can_not_ go home, to have that castle near me, and that household at Oakwood.  I see enough in my dreams without that.”

“See!  Ah, yes!”

“Then, Anne, you have suffered then too—­guiltless as you are in keeping my terrible secret!  I have often thought and marvelled whether it were so with you.”

She was about to tell him what she had seen, when he began, “There is one thing in this world that would sweeten and renew my life—­and that?”

Her heart was beating violently at what was so suddenly coming on her, when at that instant Charles broke off short with “Good Heavens!  What’s that?”

On the opposite side of the street, where one of the many churches stood some way back, making an opening, there was a figure, essentially the same that Anne had seen at Lambeth, but bare-headed, clad apparently in something long and white, and with a pale bluish light on the ghastly but unmistakable features.

She uttered a faint gasping cry scarcely audible, Charles’s impulse was to exclaim, “Man or spirit, stand!” and drawing his sword to rush across the street; but in that second all had vanished, and he only struck against closed doors, which he shook, but could not open.