or him. It is quite time I took up my
place. The beaters will be in the wood directly."

He leaned one of the guns against the stone wall, and with the other
under his arm, opened the gate for Pauline to pass through. They
crossed the field diagonally, and came to a standstill at a spot
marked by a tiny flag.

All the time Saton watched them with fascinated eyes. The thoughts
were rushing through his brain. He turned to Lois.

"Dear," he said, "I think that you had better run along home. I will
come up to the shrubbery after dinner, if you think that you can get
out."

"But there is no hurry," she whispered. "Can't we sit here and talk
for a little time, or go further back into the wood? I know a most
delightful little hiding-place just at the top of the slate pit--an
old keeper's shelter."

Saton shook his head. He avoided looking at her.

"The beaters are in the other part of the wood already," he said.
"Very likely they will come this way, too. If they see us together,
they will tell Mr. Rochester. I don't want him to know that I am here
just yet."

She rose reluctantly.

"Dear me," she said, sighing, "and I thought that we were going to
have such a nice long talk!"

"We will have it very soon," he whispered, a little unsteadily. "We
must, dear. Remember that I have only come down here so that we may
see a little more of one another. I will arrange it somehow. Only just
now I think that you had better run away home."

He kissed her, and she turned reluctantly away. She stole through the
undergrowth back into the green path. Saton watched her with fixed
eyes until she had turned the corner and disappeared. Then he seemed
at once to forget her existence. He too rose to his feet, and stole
gently forward, moving very slowly, and stooping a little so as to
remain out of sight. All the time his eyes were fixed upon the gun,
whose barrel was shining in the sunlight.

From the other side of the wood there commenced an intermittent
fusilade. The shots were drawing nearer and nearer. Rochester stood
waiting, his gun held ready. Pauline had retreated round the corner of
the further wood, beyond any possible line of fire.

Saton had reached the gate now, and was within reach of the gun and
the bag of cartridges, which were hanging by a leather belt from the
gate-post. He turned his head, and looked stealthily along the path by
which Rochester had come. There was no one in sight, no sound except
the twittering o