‘Dorothy,’ he murmured tremblingly, and his voice sounded to him like that of some one speaking far away.  He drew nearer, as one might approach a beloved ghost, anxious not to scare her.  He laid his hand on Dick’s neck, half fearful of finding him but a shadow.

‘Richard!’ said Dorothy, looking down on him benignant as Diana upon Endymion.

Then suddenly, at her voice and the assurance of her bodily presence, a great wave from the ocean of duty broke thunderous on the shore of his consciousness.

‘Dorothy, I am bound to question thee,’ he said:  ’whence comest thou? and whither art thou bound?’

‘If I should refuse to answer thee, Richard?’ returned Dorothy with a smile.

’Then must I take thee to headquarters.  And bethink thee, Dorothy, how that would cut me to the heart.’

The moon shone full upon his face, and Dorothy saw the end of a great scar that came from under his hat down on to his forehead.

‘Then will I answer thee, Richard,’ she said, with a strange trembling in her voice. ‘—­I come from Raglan.’

‘And whither art going, Dorothy?’

‘To Wyfern.’

‘On what business?’

’Were it then so wonderful, Richard, if I should desire to be at home, seeing Wyfern is now safer than Raglan?  It was for safety I went thither, thou knowest.’

’It might not be wonderful in another, Dorothy, but in thee it were truly wonderful; for now are they of Raglan thy friends, and thou art a brave woman, and lovest thy friends.  I would not believe it of thee even from the mouth of thy mother.  Confess—­thou bearest about thee that thou wouldst not willingly show me.’

Dorothy, as if in embarrassment, drew from her pocket her handkerchief, and with it a comb, which fell on the ground.

‘Prithee, Richard, pick me up my comb,’ she said; then, answering his question, continued, ’—­No, I have nothing about me I would not show thee, Richard:  wilt thou take my word for it?’

When she had spoken, she held out her hand, and receiving from him the comb, replaced it in her pocket.  But a keen pang of remorse went through her heart.

‘I am a man under authority,’ said Richard, ’and my orders will not allow me.  Besides thou knowest, Dorothy, although it involves such questions in casuistry as I cannot meet, men say thou art not bound to tell the truth to thine enemy.’

‘An’ thou be mine enemy, Richard, then must thou satisfy thyself,’ said Dorothy, trying to speak in a tone of offence.  But while she sat there looking at him, it seemed as if her heart were floating on the top of a great wave out somewhere in the moonlight.  Yet the conscience-dog was awake in his kennel.

Richard stood for a moment in silent perplexity.

‘Wilt thou swear to me, Dorothy,’ he said at length, ’that thou hast no papers about thee, neither art the bearer of news or request or sign to any of the king’s party?’