y
door, and entered it before he had seen her. Farfrae advanced, imagining
himself in solitude, and a few drops of rain beginning to fall he moved
and stood under the shelter where she had just been standing. Here he
leant against one of the staddles, and gave himself up to patience. He,
too, was plainly expecting some one; could it be herself? If so, why?
In a few minutes he looked at his watch, and then pulled out a note, a
duplicate of the one she had herself received.

This situation began to be very awkward, and the longer she waited the
more awkward it became. To emerge from a door just above his head and
descend the ladder, and show she had been in hiding there, would look so
very foolish that she still waited on. A winnowing machine stood close
beside her, and to relieve her suspense she gently moved the handle;
whereupon a cloud of wheat husks flew out into her face, and covered
her clothes and bonnet, and stuck into the fur of her victorine. He must
have heard the slight movement for he looked up, and then ascended the
steps.

"Ah--it's Miss Newson," he said as soon as he could see into the
granary. "I didn't know you were there. I have kept the appointment, and
am at your service."

"O Mr. Farfrae," she faltered, "so have I. But I didn't know it was you
who wished to see me, otherwise I--"

"I wished to see you? O no--at least, that is, I am afraid there may be
a mistake."

"Didn't you ask me to come here? Didn't you write this?" Elizabeth held
out her note.

"No. Indeed, at no hand would I have thought of it! And for you--didn't
you ask me? This is not your writing?" And he held up his.

"By no means."

"And is that really so! Then it's somebody wanting to see us both.
Perhaps we would do well to wait a little longer."

Acting on this consideration they lingered, Elizabeth-Jane's face being
arranged to an expression of preternatural composure, and the young
Scot, at every footstep in the street without, looking from under the
granary to see if the passer were about to enter and declare himself
their summoner. They watched individual drops of rain creeping down the
thatch of the opposite rick--straw after straw--till they reached the
bottom; but nobody came, and the granary roof began to drip.

"The person is not likely to be coming," said Farfrae. "It's a trick
perhaps, and if so, it's a great pity to waste our time like this, and
so much to be done."

"'Tis a great liberty," said Elizabeth.