orrow is the day," Willy added, in an altered tone. "I am leaving
for Carlisle at noon--that is, in four hours."

"Could you not wait four hours longer?" said Rotha.

"I could if you wish it; but why?"

"I don't know--that is, I can't say--but wait until four o'clock, I
beg of you."

The girl spoke with deep earnestness.

"I shall wait," said Willy, after a pause.

"And you'll meet me at the bridge by the smithy?" said Rotha.

Willy nodded assent.

"At four precisely," he said.

"This is all I came to ask. I must go back."

"Rotha, a word: what is your interest in these Garths? Does it concern
your father and Ralph?"

"I'll tell you at the bridge," said Rotha, sidling off.

"Every one is aghast at your going," he said.

"I have better reasons than any one knows of," she replied.

"And better faith, and a nobler heart," he added feelingly as he
turned his head away.

Garth was still asleep when she got back to the cottage. A feeble
gleam of winter sunshine came languidly through the little window. It
fell across the bed and lit up the blue eyelids and discolored lips of
the troubled sleeper.

The fire had smouldered out. Only a charred bough and a damp clod of
peat lay black among the gray ashes on the hearth.

As Rotha re-entered Mrs. Garth got up from the stool on which she had
sat the long night through. There was a strange look on her face.
During the heavy hours she had revolved within herself a dark problem
which to her was unsolvable, and the puzzle was still printed on her
face. Drawing the girl aside, she said in a grating whisper,--

"Tell me, do ye think it's reet what the lad says?"

"About Ralph and father?" asked Rotha.

"Tush! about hissel'. Do ye think he'll die?"

Rotha dropped her head.

"Tell me: do ye think so?"

Rotha was still silent. Mrs. Garth looked searchingly into her face,
and in answer to the unuttered reply, she whispered vehemently,--

"It's a lie. He'll be back at his anvil to-morrow. Why do you come wi'
yer pale face to me? Crying? What's it for? tell me!"

And the old woman shook the girl roughly by the shoulders.

Rotha made no response. The puzzled expression on Mrs. Garth's face
deepened at that instant, but as she turned aside she muttered again,
with every accent of determination,--

"He'll be back at his anvil to-morrow, that he will."

The blacksmith awoke as serene as a child. When he looked at Rotha his
hard, drawn face softened to the poor se