ing out on the
idealised world of the hour in a kind of restful reverie, which held the
fears and pains and unsatisfied hopes of my heart in a sweet thrall,
even as the deep-coloured glory that was abroad fused into common beauty
all the rough seams and barren places of the unequal land. Suddenly out
of the drowsy luxury of stillness there came a quick crushing sound,
flying feet on the gravel, and a dark slim figure dashed through the
light. Whose was the figure? I could not be sure till I sprang with a
shock to my feet, and went to the window where Rachel and Arthur were
sitting. Then there was no mistake about it. Here was Jane Hollingford,
suddenly arrived.

She stood strangely at the window, with one foot on the low sash, so
that she could look searchingly into the room. She had on no bonnet or
hat, and the dust of the road was in her hair; it was also white, up to
the knees, on her black dress. She was quite breathless, and looked sick
and faint with over-running. But there was Jane's wild spirit shining as
strong as ever out of her black eyes. She drew breath a moment and
looked eagerly into the room with a half-blinded searching look out of
the dazzling light into the shade. Then her eyes fell on Rachel, and she
spoke, and said a few words which electrified us all.

"Mary Hollingford," she said; "come home. Your father is dying, and he
wants to see you."

Mr. and Mrs. Hill came to the window to see what it was. We were all
silent from surprise for about a minute. Then Rachel rose trembling.

"Sit still, my love," said Arthur; "it is only a mad gipsy girl." And
Jane was not unlike a gipsy.

"Come, come!" cried Jane, stamping her foot with impatience, not
vouchsafing even a look at Arthur. "Come, or you will be too late; there
is not a moment to lose."

I think Mrs. Hill's voice piped shrill exclamations at my ear, but I
remember nothing that she said. Mr. Hill, who knew Jane by appearance,
was speechless. Arthur had risen, and stood by Rachel, looking amazedly
from her to Jane, and from Jane to her. Rachel turned on him a grievous
look which I have never forgotten, and pushed him from her with both her
hands back into the room. Then she glanced at me with a mute entreaty,
and I stepped with her out of the window, and we went across the lawn
and through the trees, and away along all the old tracks to the farm,
following Jane, who, knowing we were behind her, flew like the wind,
without once looking back. We