ty closing of its lid had been the noise she heard! But
it had always been heavily locked. With feverish fingers Rotha
clutched at the great padlock that hung from the front of the trunk.
It had a bunch of keys suspended from it. They were strange to her.
Whose keys were they?

The trunk was not locked; the lid had merely been shut down. Rotha
raised it with trembling hands. Inside were clothes of various kinds,
but these had been thrust hurriedly aside, and beneath them were
papers--many papers--scattered loosely at the bottom. What were they?

It was growing dark. Rotha remembered that there was no candle in the
house, and no lamp that had oil. She thrust her hand down to snatch up
the papers, meaning to carry them away. She touched the dead man's
clothes, and shrank back affrighted. The lid fell heavily again.

The girl began to quiver in every limb.

Who could say that the spirits of the dead did not haunt the scenes of
their lives and deaths? Gracious heaven! she was in Wilson's room!

Rotha tottered her way out in the gathering gloom, clutching at the
door as she went. Back in the porch again, she felt for the key to the
outer door. It was in the lock. She should carry it with her this
time. Then she remembered the keys in the trunk. She must carry them
away also. She never asked herself why. What power of good or evil was
prompting the girl?

Calling the dog, she went boldly into the house again, and once more
into the dead man's room. She fixed the padlock, turned the key, drew
it out of its wards, and put the bunch of keys in her pocket. In two
minutes more she was on the high road, walking back to Shoulthwaite.

There was something in her heart that told her that to-day's event was
big with issues. And, truly, an angel of light had led her to that
dark house.

The sun was gone. A vapory mist was preceding the night. The dead day
lay clammy on her hands and cheeks.

When she reached the Fornside road, her eyes turned towards the
smithy. There it was, and a bright red glow from the fire, white at
its hissing heart, lit up the air about it. Rotha could hear the thick
breathing of the bellows and the thin tinkle of the anvil. Save for
these all was silent. What was the secret of the woman who lived
there? That it concerned her father, Ralph, herself, and all people
dear to her, was as clear as day to Rotha. The girl then resolved
that, come what should or could, that secret should be torn from the
woman