ght here by this train. She is to be taken home to-night,
and buried to-morrow.'

Knight stood staring blindly at where the hearse had been; as if he saw
it, or some one, there. Then he turned, and beheld the lithe form of
Stephen bowed down like that of an old man. He took his young friend's
arm, and led him away from the light.

Chapter XL

'Welcome, proud lady.'

Half an hour has passed. Two miserable men are wandering in the darkness
up the miles of road from Camelton to Endelstow.

'Has she broken her heart?' said Henry Knight. 'Can it be that I have
killed her? I was bitter with her, Stephen, and she has died! And may
God have NO mercy upon me!'

'How can you have killed her more than I?'

'Why, I went away from her--stole away almost--and didn't tell her I
should not come again; and at that last meeting I did not kiss her once,
but let her miserably go. I have been a fool--a fool! I wish the most
abject confession of it before crowds of my countrymen could in any way
make amends to my darling for the intense cruelty I have shown her!'

'YOUR darling!' said Stephen, with a sort of laugh. 'Any man can say
that, I suppose; any man can. I know this, she was MY darling before she
was yours; and after too. If anybody has a right to call her his own, it
is I.'

'You talk like a man in the dark; which is what you are. Did she ever do
anything for you? Risk her name, for instance, for you?'

Yes, she did,' said Stephen emphatically.

'Not entirely. Did she ever live for you--prove she could not live
without you--laugh and weep for you?'

'Yes.'

'Never! Did she ever risk her life for you--no! My darling did for me.'

'Then it was in kindness only. When did she risk her life for you?'

'To save mine on the cliff yonder. The poor child was with me looking at
the approach of the Puffin steamboat, and I slipped down. We both had a
narrow escape. I wish we had died there!'

'Ah, but wait,' Stephen pleaded with wet eyes. 'She went on that cliff
to see me arrive home: she had promised it. She told me she would months
before. And would she have gone there if she had not cared for me at
all?'

'You have an idea that Elfride died for you, no doubt,' said Knight,
with a mournful sarcasm too nerveless to support itself.

'Never mind. If we find that--that she died yours, I'll say no more
ever.'

'And if we find she died yours, I'll say no more.'

'Very well--so it shall be.'

The dark clouds i