ere
but one majestic conception of a master artist.

But Hurd saw nothing of this as he plunged through the leaves. He was
thinking that it was extremely likely a man would be on the look-out for
him to-night under the big beeches--a man with some business to propose
to him. A few words dropped in his ear at a certain public-house the
night before had seemed to him to mean this, and he had accordingly sent
Patton out of the way.

But when he got to the top of the hill no one was to be seen or heard,
and he sat him down on a fallen log to smoke and wait awhile.

He had no sooner, however, taken his seat than he shifted it uneasily,
turning himself round so as to look in the other direction. For in front
of him, as he was first placed, there was a gap in the trees, and over
the lower wood, plainly visible and challenging attention, rose the dark
mass of Mellor House. And the sight of Mellor suggested reflections just
now that were not particularly agreeable to Jim Hurd.

He had just been poaching Mr. Boyce's rabbits without any sort of
scruple. But the thought of _Miss_ Boyce was not pleasant to him when he
was out on these nightly raids.

Why had she meddled? He bore her a queer sort of grudge for it. He had
just settled down to the bit of cobbling which, together with his wife's
plait, served him for a blind, and was full of a secret excitement as to
various plans he had in hand for "doing" Westall, combining a maximum of
gain for the winter with a maximum of safety, when Miss Boyce walked in,
radiant with the news that there was employment for him at the Court, on
the new works, whenever he liked to go and ask for it.

And then she had given him an odd look.

"And I was to pass you on a message from Lord Maxwell, Hurd," she had
said: "'You tell him to keep out of Westall's way for the future, and
bygones shall be bygones.' Now, I'm not going to ask what that means. If
you've been breaking some of our landlords' law, I'm not going to say
I'm shocked. I'd alter the law to-morrow, if I could!--you know I would.
But I do say you're a fool if you go on with it, now you've got good
work for the winter; you must please remember your wife and children."

And there he had sat like a log, staring at her--both he and Minta not
knowing where to look, or how to speak. Then at last his wife had broken
out, crying:

"Oh, miss! we should ha starved--"

And Miss Boyce had stopped her in a moment, catching her by the hand.
D