lently
toward the lower gate of Duddon.

"What's he going to do about the money?" said Undershaw abruptly.

Boden turned upon him, almost with rage.

"For heaven's sake, give him time!--it's positively indecent to rush a
man who's gone through what that man's gone through!"

Faversham pursued his way toward the swelling upland which looks south
over St. John's Vale, and north toward Skiddaw. He went, led by a
passionate impulse, sternly restrained till this moment. Led also by the
vision of her face as it had been lifted to him beside the grave of
Melrose. Since then he had never seen her. But that Boden had written to
her that morning, early, after the recovery of Brand's body, he knew.

The moon shone suddenly behind him, across the waste of Flitterdale, and
the lower meadows of St. John's Vale. It struck upon the low white house
amid its trees.

"Is Miss Penfold at home?"

The maid recognized him at once, and in her agitation almost lost her
head. As she led him in, a little figure in a white cap with streamers
fluttered across the hall.

"_Oh_, Mr. Faversham!" said a soft, breathless voice.

But Mrs. Penfold did not stop to speak to him. Gathering up her
voluminous black skirts, and her shawls that were falling off her
shoulders, she hurried upstairs. There followed a thin girl with dark
hair piled above dark eyes.

"Lydia is in the drawing-room," said Susy, with dramatic depth of voice;
and the two disappeared.

When he entered, Lydia was standing by the fire. The light of some
blazing wood, and of one small lamp, filled the pretty room with colour
and soft shadows. Among them, the slender form in its black dress, the
fair head thrown back, the outstretched hands were of a loveliness that
arrested him--almost unmanned him.

She came forward.

"You've been so long coming!"

The intonation of the words expressed the yearning of many days and
nights. They were not a reproach; rather, an exquisite revelation.

He took her hands, and slowly, irresistibly he drew her; and she came
to him. He bowed his face upon hers, and the world stood still! Through
the emotion of that supreme moment, with its mingled cup of joy and
remembered bitterness there ran for him a touch of triumph natural to
his temperament. She had asked no promise from him; reminded him of no
condition; made no reservation. There she was upon his breast. The male
pride in him was appeased. Self-respect seemed once more possible.

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