Polperro. A minute later he had ridden out of the gates.
Sylvia moved away from the window, but she was in no mood to go back to
bed. She felt restless, excited, sorry that she had given up her ride.
When at last her tea was brought in, she saw the Count's card lying on
the tray:
Madame--
I regret very much to hear that you are not well--so ran his pencilled
words--but I trust you will be able to come down this morning, for I
have a message to give you from my sister.
Believe me, Madame, of all your servants the most devoted.
Paul de Virieu.
They met in the garden--the garden which they had so often had to
themselves during their short happy mornings; and, guided by an
instinctive longing for solitude, and for being out of sight and out
of mind of those about them, they made their way towards the arch in
the wall which led to the _potager_.
It was just ten o'clock, and the gardeners were leaving off work for an
hour; they had earned their rest, for their work begins each summer day
at sunrise. It was therefore through a sweet-smelling, solitary
wilderness that Count Paul guided his companion.
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