"How very considerate of you, William.
Have you chosen the tree?"
"I have gone so far as to mark one down, my lady."
The road turned sharply to the left, and they were beside the river once again.
The gleam of water shimmered between the trees.
William pulled the horses to a standstill.
He paused a moment, then put his hand to his mouth and gave a sea-gull's cry.
It was echoed immediately from the river bank, just out of sight, and the servant turned to his mistress.
"He is waiting for you, my lady."
Dona pulled out an old gown from behind the cushion in the carriage, and threw it over her arm.
"Which is the tree you mean, William?"
"The wide one, my lady, the oak with the spreading branches."
"Do you think me mad, William?"
"Shall we say - not entirely sane, my lady?"
"It is rather a lovely feeling, William."
"So I have always understood, my lady."
"One is absurdly happy for no reason - rather like a butterfly."
"Exactly, my lady."
"What do you know of the habits of butterflies?"
Dona turned, and William's master stood before her, his hands busy with a line which he was knotting, and which he slipped through the eye of a hook, breaking the loose end between his teeth.
"You walk very silently," she said.
"A habit of long practice."
"I was merely making an observation to William."
"About butterflies I gather.
And what makes you so sure of their happiness?"
"One has only to look at them."
"Their fashion of dancing in the sun you mean?"
"Yes."
"And you feel like doing the same?"
"Yes."
"You had better change your gown then.
Ladies of the manor who drink tea with Lord Godolphin know nothing of butterflies.
I will wait for you in the boat.
The river is alive with fish."
He turned his back on her, and went off again to the river bank, and Dona, sheltered by the spreading oak, stripped herself of her silk gown, and put on the other, laughing to herself, while her ringlets escaped from the clasp that held them, and fell forward over her face.
When she was ready she gave her silk gown to William, who was standing with face averted by his horses' heads.
"We shall go down river with the tide, William, and I will walk up to Navron from the creek."
"Very good, my lady."
"I shall be in the avenue shortly after ten o'clock, William."
"Yes, my lady."
"And you can drive me to the house as though we were just returning from Lord Godolphin's."
"Yes, my lady."
"What are you smiling at?"
"I was not aware, my lady, that my features were in any way relaxed."
"You are a liar.
Goodbye."
"Goodbye, my lady."
She lifted her old muslin gown above her ankles, tightening the sash at her waist to keep it in place, and then ran barefoot through the trees to the boat that was waiting beneath the bank.
CHAPTER IX
The Frenchman was fixing the worm onto the line, and looked up with a smile.