"For madam to walk in the woods?" I said slowly. "So she walks there? With whom?"
"With Diccon and Angela," he answered. "They went before the sun was an hour high, so Goodwife Allen says. I thought that you--" "No," I told him. "On the contrary, I left command that she should not venture outside the garden. There are more than Indians abroad."
I was white with anger; but besides anger there was fear in my heart.
"I will go at once and bring her home," I said. As I spoke, I happened to glance toward the fort and the shipping in the river beyond. Something seemed wrong with the prospect. I looked again, and saw what hated and familiar object was missing.
"Where is the Santa Teresa?" I demanded, the fear at my heart tugging harder.
"She dropped downstream this morning. I passed her as I came up from Archer's Hope, awhile ago. She's anchored in midstream off the big spring. Why did she go?"
We looked each other in the eyes, and each read the thought that neither cared to put into words.
"You can take the brown mare," I said, speaking lightly because my heart was as heavy as lead, "and we'll ride to the forest. It is all right, I dare say. Doubtless we'll find her garlanding herself with the grape, or playing with the squirrels, or asleep on the red leaves, with her head in Angela's lap."
"Doubtless," he said. "Don't lose time. I'll saddle the mare and overtake you in two minutes."