a mistake."

"Ay," she said, "yo' ha' made a mistake. If yo' choose to tak' that an'
gi'e it to th' women an' childer as is left to want bread, yo' may do it
an' welcome."

CHAPTER XL - Going South

The first day Fergus Derrick was allowed to spend an hour in an
easy-chair by the fire, he heard the story of his rescue from the
lips of his friend, listening to it as he rested against the propping
cushions.

"Don't be afraid of exciting me," he had said to Grace. "I have
conjectured until I am tired of it. Tell me the whole story. Let me hear
the end _now_."

Derrick's breath came quick and short as he listened, and his haggard
face flushed. It was not only to his friend he owed his life, but to
Joan Lowrie.

"I should like to see her," he said when Grace had finished. "As for
you, Grace--well--words are poor things."

"They are very poor things between friends," was Grace's answer; "so
let us have none of them. You are on this side of the grave, dear
fellow--that is enough."

During the rest of the day Derrick was silent and abstracted, but
plainly full of active thought.

By nightfall a feverish spot burned upon his cheek, and his pulse had
quickened dangerously.

"I must wait," he said to Grace, "and it is hard work."

Just at that time Anice was sitting in her room at the Rectory, thinking
of Joan also, when there came to her the sound of footsteps in the
passage and then a summons to the door.

"You may come in," she said.

But it was not a servant, as she had supposed; it was Joan, with a
bundle upon her arm.

"You are going away, Joan?" she said. "Tonight?"

"Ay," Joan answered, as she came and stood upon the hearth. "I'm goin'
away to-neet."

"You have quite made up your mind?"

"Ay," said Joan. "I mun break loose. I want to get as far fro' th' owd
life as I con. I'd loike to forget th' most on it. I'm goin' to-neet,
because I dunnot want to be axed questions. If I passed thro' th' town
by day-leet, theer's them as ud fret me wi' their talk."

"Have you seen Mr. Grace?" Anice asked.

"No. I shanna ha' th' chance to say good-by to him. I coom partly to ax
yo' to say it fur me."

"Yes, I will say it I wish there were no need that I should, though. I
wish I could keep you."

There was a brief silence. Joan knelt on one knee by the fender.

"I ha' bin thinkin' o' Liz," she said. "I thowt I'd ax yo'--if it wur to
happen so as she'd drift back here agen while I wur away--as yo'd say