She had made a considerable change in her appearance. A long fur cloak covered her dress, and in place of her former dainty headgear she was wearing a close fur turban.

Wishing to try the effect of my own altered appearance, I assumed a sort of slouching walk and made as if to pass her.

“Did you think I should not know you?” she asked.

“I was rather hoping you would not. I am supposed to be disguised.”

She laughed. “I should know you anywhere.”

“Then we must trust that other eyes are not so keen as yours,” said I, feeling a little crestfallen.

“Or that they are not so interested in recognizing you. What about the train?”

“None but bad news;” and I told her what had occurred and how I proposed to manage. She agreed at once, but was for walking.

“I think I can walk ten miles,” she declared readily.

“There is no need. It is a rough, hilly road; and there is a man at the other end of the village[42] from whom I can buy a horse without any chance of rousing suspicions.”

[42]

“It would not be more hilly for me than for you, would it?”

“I think you had better have the horse.”

“Then I will say no more,” she agreed. “I am afraid my disguise is not much more successful than yours,” she added, as we walked on.

“It might have been awkward if neither had recognized the other, mightn’t it?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You would have to hide your face, if you don’t want to be known.”

“I expect I look an awful fright.”

“The more disguised you are the better,” said I. She laughed. “It is good to hear you laugh in the midst of all—this uncertainty.”

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