g the cobbles of
the yard to lumps of gold. There was no sign of Mrs. Biggs, but about
the place there was a vague stir made up of the small movements and
breathings of the horses in the stable, the hens shut up for the night,
the cows in their distant byres. Branches of trees fretted against each
other and the stream sang, out of sight.

The parlour light burned steadily, no figure came into view, and,
lifting her feet from her slippers, Miriam went silently towards the
door. She had thrown in the letter and was turning back, when she heard
nailed boots on the stones, a voice singing, a little thickly, in an
undertone. She caught her breath and ran, but as she fumbled for her
slippers in the dark, she knew she was discovered. He had uttered a
loud, "Ha!" of triumph, his feet were after her, and she squealed like a
hunted rabbit when he pounced on her.

It was very dark within the wood. His face was no more than a blur, and
her unseen beauty was powerless to help her. She was desperate, and she
laughed.

"George, you'll spoil my little joke. I've left a letter for you. It's a
shame to spoil it, Georgie, Porgie."

His grasp was hurting her. "Where is the letter?" he asked in a curious,
restrained voice.

"In the doorway. Let me go, George. I'll see you tomorrow.
George--please!"

"No," he said thoughtfully, carefully, "I don't think I shall let you
go. Come with me--come with me, pretty one, and we'll read your
love-letter together."

CHAPTER XXIV

While these things happened at Halkett's Farm, Helen sat sewing in the
schoolroom. Mildred Caniper had been in bed all day, as often happened
now, and there Miriam was supposed to be, on account of that strange
giddiness of hers.

Helen worked at the fashioning of a dress in which Zebedee should think
her fair and the lamplight shone on the pale grey stuff strewing the
table and brought sparks from the diamonds on her hand: the clipping of
the scissors made a cheerful sound, and Jim, as he sat before the fire,
looked up at her sometimes with wise and friendly eyes.

It was late when she began to be oppressed by the quiet of the house. It
was as though some one had just stopped whispering and would begin
again. She felt that she was watched by the unseen, and the loudness of
her own movements shocked her, but she worked on, using the scissors
stealthily and starting if a coal fell in the grate.

Surely there was some one standing outside the door? She cha