He became of
some importance at the Court of William and Mary, but his happiest hours
were those spent at his manor at Lenfield. There his dreams had
fulfilment. Barbara flitted from room to room, as, in his visions, she
had so often seemed to do; many a time he watched her slowly descending
the broad stairs and held out his arms to her.
Sometimes a shade of sorrow would rest upon her brow.
"I was thinking of Martin," she said, when her husband questioned her.
Martin had never come to Lenfield. Gilbert could find out nothing about
him. There were still highwaymen on the road, but nowadays no one was
ever stopped by "Galloping Hermit" in his brown mask.
"I wonder what became of him," said Barbara; but she never knew.
CHAPTER XXX
ALONG THE NORTH ROAD
On the North Road there is a small inn, rather dilapidated and not
attractive to travellers. Its customers are yokels from the neighbouring
village, but occasionally a gentleman may be found warming himself at
the open hearth and drinking the best that the house contains. Such a
gentleman invariably rides a good horse, and is the recipient of
open-mouthed admiration from the yokels.
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