h my husband and
I lived in the manor-house with him, so that I have never lived away from
the spot.'

She was poor. That, and the change of name, sufficiently accounted for
the inn-servant's ignorance of her continued existence within the walls
of her old home.

It was growing dusk, and he still walked with her. A woman's head arose
from the declivity before them, and as she drew nearer, Christine asked
him to go back.

'This is the wife of the farmer who shares the house,' she said. 'She is
accustomed to come out and meet me whenever I walk far and am benighted.
I am obliged to walk everywhere now.'

The farmer's wife, seeing that Christine was not alone, paused in her
advance, and Nicholas said, 'Dear Christine, if you are obliged to do
these things, I am not, and what wealth I can command you may command
likewise. They say rolling stones gather no moss; but they gather dross
sometimes. I was one of the pioneers to the gold-fields, you know, and
made a sufficient fortune there for my wants. What is more, I kept it.
When I had done this I was coming home, but hearing of my uncle's death I
changed my plan, travelled, speculated, and increased my fortune. Now,
before we part: you remember you stood with me at the altar once, and
therefore I speak with less preparation than I should otherwise use.
Before we part then I ask, shall another again intrude between us? Or
shall we complete the union we began?'

She trembled--just as she had done at that very minute of standing with
him in the church, to which he had recalled her mind. 'I will not enter
into that now, dear Nicholas,' she replied. 'There will be more to talk
of and consider first--more to explain, which it would have spoiled this
meeting to have entered into now.'

'Yes, yes; but--'

'Further than the brief answer I first gave, Nic, don't press me
to-night. I still have the old affection for you, or I should not have
sought you. Let that suffice for the moment.'

'Very well, dear one. And when shall I call to see you?'

'I will write and fix an hour. I will tell you everything of my history
then.'

And thus they parted, Nicholas feeling that he had not come here
fruitlessly. When she and her companion were out of sight he retraced
his steps to Roy-Town, where he made himself as comfortable as he could
in the deserted old inn of his boyhood's days. He missed her
companionship this evening more than he had done at any time during the