And she set off running blindly across the darkening fields.

* * * * *

It was close on eleven o'clock. The Bishop was sitting alone in his
study writing. The night was very still. The pen travelled, travelled.
The fire had burned down to a red glow. Presently he got up, walked to
the window, and drew aside the curtain.

"The first snow," he said, half aloud.

It was coming down gently, through the darkness. He could just see the
white rim on the stone sill outside.

"I can do no more to-night," he said, and he bent to lock his
despatch-box with the key on his watch-chain.

The door suddenly opened. He turned to see a little figure rush towards
him, and fall at his feet, holding him convulsively by the knees.

"Hester!" he said, in amazement. "Hester!"

She was bareheaded. The snow was upon her hair and shoulders. She
brought in the smell of fire with her.

He tried to raise her, but she held him tightly with her bleeding hands,
looking up at him with a convulsed face. His own hands were red, as he
vainly tried to loosen hers.

"They have killed my book," she said. "They have killed my book. They
burned it alive when I was away. And my head went. I don't know what I
did, but I think I killed Regie. I know I meant to."

CHAPTER XLII

"Is it well with the child?"

"I am not really anxious," said Mr. Gresley, looking out across the
Vicarage laurels to the white fields and hedges. All was blurred and
vague and very still. The only thing that had a distinct outline was the
garden railing, with a solitary rook on it.

"I am not really anxious," he said again, sitting down at the
breakfast-table. But his face contradicted him. It was blue and pinched,
for he had just returned from reading the morning service to himself in
an ice-cold church, but there was a pucker in the brow that was not the
result of cold. The Vicarage porch had fallen down in the night, but he
was evidently not thinking of that. He drank a little coffee, and then
got up and walked to the window again.

"She is with the Pratts," he said, with decision. "I am glad I sent a
note over early, if it will relieve your mind, but I am convinced she is
with the Pratts."

Mrs. Gresley murmured something. She looked scared. She made an attempt
to eat something, but it was a mere pretence.

The swing door near the back staircase creaked. In the Vicarage you
could hear everything.

Mr. and Mrs. Gresley l