She walked to the music of innumerable birds, which
increased as she drew away from the open meads towards the groves.
She had overcome all difficulties. After thinking out the question
of telling or not telling her father, she had decided that to tell
him was to be forbidden to go. Her contrivance therefore was this:
to leave home this evening on a visit to her invalid grandmother, who
lived not far from the Baron's house; but not to arrive at her
grandmother's till breakfast-time next morning. Who would suspect an
intercalated experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a ball?
That this piece of deception was indefensible she afterwards owned
readily enough; but she did not stop to think of it then.
It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached Three-
Walks-End--the converging point of radiating trackways, now floored
with a carpet of matted grass, which had never known other scythes
than the teeth of rabbits and hares. The twitter overhead had
ceased, except from a few braver and larger birds, including the
cuckoo, who did not fear night at this pleasant time of year. Nobody
seemed to be on the spot when she first drew near, but no sooner did
Margery stand at the intersection of the roads than a slight crashing
became audible, and her patron appeared. He was so transfigured in
dress that she scarcely knew him.
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