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Page 369
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bailiff will suffer my presence before he asks Gervase if it is by her will that I am here.
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Thus, I beg you to come to me in secret as soon as you can. It is scarce more than a mile from Clyro. Do not, I beg you, bring any escort or make known to any person whom it is you visit. If my trouble should pass from me, none need know of it or that I disobeyed my sister, and perhaps she will forgive me. But I must see you. Again, I beg you to come to me, even if only for a few minutes, even if only to say that you do not care whether I live or die and you do not wish to be troubled by me ever again.
"I must go out again," Walter said.
Sybelle whirled around, her hands gripped hard together.
"Go out? Where?"
"To Hay," he said, his eyes were on the letter he was carefully refolding and his mouth was a hard, bitter line, but Sybelle did not see that because his head was bent.
Red fury mingled with the ice of pain in Sybelle's heart. "I read the seal," she said. "I know that letter is from Marie de les Maures."
"Yes."
Walter was stunned by this resurgence of a problem he had thought dead and buried. He wished he could thrust Marie's letter into Sybelle's hands and ask her what to do. Surely she would pardon one single mistake that had such a tragic result. She must realize that there was no real intention of infidelity on his part. And if Sybelle's family would be willing to shelter Marie until the child was born and then care for the babe, the worst misery for all could be avoided. But he could not reveal Marie's trouble to Sybelle without her permission.
And what if Marie would not agree to let him ask Sybelle for help? He could send Marie to Goldcliff, but she would be miserable there, in a little keep almost as isolated as Pembroke. And how could he explain her presence in his keep to Sybelle if Marie would not permit him to expose the whole story? Would she prefer to take refuge in a convent? If so, which one? And would she wish to use a name different from her own? And after that, what? With his mind whirling, Walter said no more than that flat monosyllable. He thrust the letter up his mail sleeve and turned toward the door.

 
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