fect upon Lowrie."

In his momentary heat, he forgot all but the strife into which he was
forced. He did not question Jud closely. He knew Riggan and the mining
districts too well not to have a clear enough idea of what means of
vengeance would be employed.

But when he got out into the night he had not gone many yards before
a new thought flashed upon him, and quickened his pulse. It was not a
pleasant thought because it checked him, and he was in a mood to feel
impatient of a check. But he could not throw it off. There arose within
his mind a picture of a silent room in a cottage,--of a girl sitting by
the hearth. He seemed to see quite clearly the bent head, the handsome
face, the sad eyes. He had a fancy that Liz was not with her to-night,
that the silence of the room was only broken by the soft breathing of
the child upon Joan's knee.

He stopped with an impatient gesture.

"What was I thinking of?" he demanded of himself, "to have forgotten
_her_, and what my madness would bring upon her? I am a selfish fool!
Let it go. I will give it up. I will stay in Riggan for the future--it
will not be long, and she need torture herself no more. I will give it
up. Let them think I am afraid to face him. I am afraid--afraid to wound
the woman I--yes--the woman I _love'_."

CHAPTER XXIX - Lying in Wait

Liz crept close to the window and looked down the road. At this time of
the year it was not often that the sun set in as fair a sky. In October,
Riggan generally shut its doors against damps and mist, and turned
toward its fire when it had one. And yet Liz had hardly seen that the
sun had shone at all to-day. Still, seeing her face a passer-by would
not have fancied that she was chilled. There was a flush upon her
cheeks, and her eyes were more than usually bright. She was watching for
Joan with a restless eagerness.

"She's late," she said. "I mought ha' knowed she'd be late. I wisht
she'd coom--I do. An' yet--an' yet I'm feart. I wisht it wur over;" and
she twisted her fingers together nervously.

She had laid the child down upon the bed, and presently it roused her
with a cry. She went to it, took it up into her arms, and, carrying it
to the fire, sat down.

"Why couldn't tha stay asleep?" she said. "I nivver seed a choild loike
thee."

But the next minute, the little creature whimpering, she bent down in
impatient repentance and kissed it, whimpering too.

"Dunnot," she said. "I conna bear to hear thee. H