1. MARCH THE SIXTHThe next morning the opening move of the game was made.
Cytherea, under cover of a thick veil, hired a conveyance and drove
to within a mile or so of Carriford. It was with a renewed sense of
depression that she saw again the objects which had become familiar
to her eye during her sojourn under Miss Aldclyffe's roof—the
outline of the hills, the meadow streams, the old park trees. She
hastened by a lonely path to the rectory-house, and asked if Mr.
Raunham was at home.
Now the rector, though a solitary bachelor, was as gallant and
courteous to womankind as an ancient Iberian; and, moreover, he was
Cytherea's friend in particular, to an extent far greater than she
had ever surmised. Rarely visiting his relative, Miss Aldclyffe,
except on parish matters, more ra
