e nearest corner of the wood. Besides this
not a sound of any kind reached their ears, the time of nightingales
being now past, and Hintock lying at a distance of two miles at least.
In the opposite direction the hay-field stretched away into remoteness
till it was lost to the eye in a soft mist.

CHAPTER XXI.

When the general stampede occurred Winterborne had also been looking
on, and encountering one of the girls, had asked her what caused them
all to fly.

She said with solemn breathlessness that they had seen something very
different from what they had hoped to see, and that she for one would
never attempt such unholy ceremonies again. "We saw Satan pursuing us
with his hour-glass. It was terrible!"

This account being a little incoherent, Giles went forward towards the
spot from which the girls had retreated. After listening there a few
minutes he heard slow footsteps rustling over the leaves, and looking
through a tangled screen of honeysuckle which hung from a bough, he saw
in the open space beyond a short stout man in evening-dress, carrying
on one arm a light overcoat and also his hat, so awkwardly arranged as
possibly to have suggested the "hour-glass" to his timid observers--if
this were the person whom the girls had seen. With the other hand he
silently gesticulated and the moonlight falling upon his bare brow
showed him to have dark hair and a high forehead of the shape seen
oftener in old prints and paintings than in real life. His curious and
altogether alien aspect, his strange gestures, like those of one who is
rehearsing a scene to himself, and the unusual place and hour, were
sufficient to account for any trepidation among the Hintock daughters
at encountering him.

He paused, and looked round, as if he had forgotten where he was; not
observing Giles, who was of the color of his environment. The latter
advanced into the light. The gentleman held up his hand and came
towards Giles, the two meeting half-way.

"I have lost my way," said the stranger. "Perhaps you can put me in
the path again." He wiped his forehead with the air of one suffering
under an agitation more than that of simple fatigue.

"The turnpike-road is over there," said Giles

"I don't want the turnpike-road," said the gentleman, impatiently. "I
came from that. I want Hintock House. Is there not a path to it
across here?"

"Well, yes, a sort of path. But it is hard to find from this point.
I'll show you the