His glance turned with his thoughts to distinguish the roof that covered
his mother and Rhoda. Dear heart, cried his, do your part and I will
mine.

Rhoda by then was doing after her own thought and liking. Though fasting
herself, poor child, that on the morrow the board might be the better
spread, for Christian she was lavish. Wine she took that Giles had not
lived to drink; of griddle cakes the best she chose, and also of figs
from those she summer-time ago had gathered and dried. Then she wound the
silly rowan in brown moss, knotted it up in her scarf, and cloaked
herself, and went out on her fool's errand.

Some miles to the west, on the edge of waste, stood a landmark of three
trees, and near by, off the path, a furze-stack. Thither by devious ways
of caution came Rhoda on the first wane of daylight, and having done all,
faced the drear without heart, crouching into shelter of the furze.

Poorly clad for such a vigil, thin from days of want, fasting, exhausted
by excitement and grief, she had no strength left to bear bravely any
further trial. Though Christian's desperate emphasis stood out to bar
despair, she told herself his coming was impossible, and her spirit
quailed in utter cowardice as she realised her own outlook. She was
afraid of the night, and her engagement had taken no limit of time.
Should the dreaded ice-wind of the season rise, there were peril to life;
but her heart died under a worse terror, that increased as waste and tree
bulked large and shapeless under drawing dark. For was it not the Eve of
Christmas, when the strict limitations of nature were so relaxed that
things inanimate could quit station, and very beasts speak like men, and
naked spirits be clothed with form. Her mortal senses were averse. With
desperate desire for relief she scanned the large through the longest
hour of her life.

Night was in the valleys, but on the uplands twilight still, when against
the sky a runner came. He, dear saviour.

But his footsteps made no sound; but he showed too white. Doubt of agony
that this was not he in human flesh froze her, till he came and stood,
and not seeing her close crouched, uttered his heart in a sound dreadful
to hear.

'Here, here!' cried Rhoda, and had her hands on him before her eyes had
fairly realised him. He was mostly naked.

Coatless, shirtless, unshod, his breeks and his hair clung damp, showing
by what way he had come free. She held him, and laughed and sobbed.

'You