He sat down in her vacant chair and covered his face with his hands, giving himself up to the relief of unwitnessed tears.  Above his head shone the worn glitter of the old armoured device of the “Sieur Amadis” with its motto—­“Mon coeur me soutien”—­and only a psychist could have thought or imagined it possible that the spirit of the old French knight of Tudor times might still be working through clouds of circumstance and weaving the web of the future from the torn threads of the past.  And when Robin had regained his self-possession and had left the room, there was yet a Presence in its very emptiness,—­the silent assertion of an influence which if it had been given voice and speech might have said—­“Do what you consider is your own will and intention, but I am still your Master!—­and all your thoughts and wishes are but the reflex of my desire!”

It was soon known in the village that Innocent had left Briar Farm—­“run away,” the gossips said, eager to learn more.  But they could get no information out of Robin Clifford or Priscilla Priday, and the labourers on the farm knew nothing.  The farm work was going on as usual—­that was all they cared about.  Mr. Clifford was very silent—­Miss Priday very busy.  However, all anxiety and suspense came to an end very speedily so far as Innocent’s safety was concerned, for in a few days letters arrived from her—­both for Robin and Priscilla—­kind, sweetly-expressed letters full of the tenderest affection.

“Do not be at all sorry or worried about me, dear good Priscilla!” she wrote.  “I know I am doing right to be away from Briar Farm for a time—­and I am quite well and happy.  I have been very fortunate in finding rooms with a lady who is very kind to me, and as soon as I feel I can do so I will let you know my address.  But I don’t want anyone from home to come and see me—­not yet!—­not for a very long time!  It would only make me sad—­and it would make you sad too!  But be quite sure it will not be long before you see me again.”

Her letter to Robin was longer and full of restrained feeling: 

“I know you are very unhappy, you kind, loving boy,” it ran.  “You have lost me altogether—­yes, that is true—­but do not mind, it is better so, and you will love some other girl much more than me some day.  I should have been a mistake in your life had I stayed with you.  You will see me again—­and you will then understand why I left Briar Farm.  I could not wrong the memory of the Sieur Amadis, and if I married you I should be doing a wicked thing to bring myself, who am base-born, into his lineage.  Surely you do understand how I feel?  I am quite safe—­in a good home, with a lady who takes care of me—­and as soon as I can I will let you know exactly where I am—­then if you ever come to London I will see you.  But your work is on Briar Farm—­that dear and beloved home!—­and you will keep up its old tradition and make everybody happy around you.  Will you not?  Yes!  I am sure you will!  You must, if ever you loved me.  “Innocent.”