ws white and clear in
the bright moonlight as she stares with anxious expectancy up the
road to the left. Her body is fixed in an attitude of rigid
immobility as if she were afraid the slightest movement would break
the spell of silence and awaken the unknown. She has shrunk
instinctively as far away as she can from the mysterious darkness
which rises at the roadsides like an imprisoning wall. A sound of
hurried footfalls, muffled by the dust, comes from the road she is
watching. She gives a startled gasp. Her eyes strain to identify
the oncomer. Uncertain, trembling with fright, she hesitates a
second; then darts to the side of the road and crouches down in the
shadow._

Stephen Murray _comes down the road from the left. He stops by the
signpost and peers about him. He wears a cap, the peak of which
casts his face into shadow. Finally he calls in a low voice._

MURRAY. Eileen!

EILEEN (_coming out quickly from her hiding-place--with a glad little
cry_). Stephen! At last! (_She runs to him as if she were going to
fling her arms about him, but stops abashed. He reaches out and takes
her hands._)

MURRAY. At last? It can't be twelve yet. (_He leads her to the pile of
stones on the left._) I haven't heard the village clock.

EILEEN. I must have come early. It seemed as if I'd been waiting for
ages. I was so anxious----

MURRAY. How your hands tremble! Were you frightened?

EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). A little. The woods are so black--and
queer-looking. I'm all right now.

MURRAY. Sit down. You must rest. (_In a tone of annoyed reproof._) I'm
going to read you a lecture, young lady. You shouldn't ever have done
this--running a temp and---- Good heavens, don't you want to get well?

EILEEN (_dully_). I don't know----

MURRAY (_irritably_). You make me ill when you talk that way, Eileen.
It doesn't sound like you at all. What's come over you lately? Get a
grip on yourself, for God's sake. I was--knocked out--when I read the
note you slipped me after supper. I didn't get a chance to read it
until late, I was so busy packing, and by that time you'd gone to your
cottage. If I could have reached you any way I'd have refused to come
here, I tell you straight. But I couldn't--and I knew you'd be here
waiting--and--still, I feel guilty. Damn it, this isn't the thing for
you! You ought to be in bed asleep. Can't you look out for yourself?

EILEEN (_humbly_). Please