and then we walked on through the
white fields and between the bare hedges till we came out upon the road
which leads away across the moor between Hillsbro' Farm and Hillsbro'
Hall. There is a spot on this road which you know well, where the ground
sinks into a hollow, and then rises in a steep abrupt hill, on the top
of which any object suddenly appearing stands out in sharp relief
against the sky, in the eyes of the traveller below. We reached the foot
of this hill, John and I; we began to ascend; I raised my eyes, and saw
a figure appear on the brink of the hill, a woman's figure with
draperies fluttering a little as the petticoats of the market women
flutter when they tramp the road to Hillsbro'. I raised my eyes again,
and came face to face with Rachel Leonard.

She was walking quickly, pressing forward, wrapped in a fur mantle, with
a Shetland snood drawn round her face. I remember the momentary
expression of that face before it changed at sight of us; the delicate
brows knitted as if in pain or anxiety; the wide dark eyes intent upon
the scenes opening before them; the scarlet lips parted in fatigue; the
glow of exercise wandering over the cheeks.

She did not see us at first; the sun was in her eyes; but I spoke her
name aloud, and held out my hand. She started violently, and all the
colour flew out of her cheeks. She took my hand, and held it
mechanically, but her eyes were fixed on John. I looked at him in
amazement, seeking for some explanation of the strange long look in her
eyes, and the trembling of her white lips, only to see both repeated in
his face, which had been ruddy and smiling the minute before. They stood
gazing in one another's eyes as if both were magnetised, without either
advancing a hand or attempting a word. An indescribable chill crept over
my heart as I looked at them, and I drew my hand from John's arm, and
turned impatiently away.

He did not seem conscious of the action, but it roused Rachel. She
smiled, and extending her hand, said, with quivering lips, which she
made vain efforts to compose:

"Mr. Hollingford, do you not remember me? My name is Rachel Leonard."

John's gaze had never left her face, and he could not but note the
imploring look that came into her eyes as she said these words.

"Yes," he answered, and his voice shook, though his face kept a fixed,
stern gravity. "Yes, surely I remember you--Miss Leonard."

At this the sound of wheels was heard coming up the hill