from the inside,
a sharp muttering bark, something between reproof and recognition.
There had certainly been a good fire, not long before, on the capacious
hearth, for the burning ashes cast a lurid light upon an old table, and
two or three dilapidated chairs. There was also a fowling-piece lying
across the table; but it was evident none of the inmates were at home;
and Grace walked slowly, yet disappointedly, round the dwelling, till
she came to the other side, that rested against a huge mass of mingled
rock and clay, overgrown with long tangled fern and heather. She
climbed to the top, and had not been many minutes on the look-out ere
she perceived three men rapidly approaching from the opposite path. As
they drew nearer, she saw that one of them was her husband; but where
was her son? Silently she lay among the heather, fearing she knew not
what--yet knowing she had much to fear. The chimney that rose from the
sheeling had, she thought, effectually concealed her from their view,
but in this she was mistaken; for, while Huntley and one of the Smiths
entered the abode, the other climbed up the mound. She saw his hat
within a foot of where she rested, and fancied she could feel his breath
upon her cheek as she crouched, like a frightened hare, more closely in
her form. However, he surveyed the spot without ascending further, and
then retreated muttering something about corbies and ravens, and, almost
instantly, she heard the door of the hut close. Cautiously she crept
down from her hiding-place; and, crawling along the ground with stealth
and silence, knelt before the little window, so as to observe, through
the broken shutter, the occupation of the inmates. The dog alone was
conscious of her approach; but the men were too seriously engaged to
heed his intimations of danger.

[She sees all that the three are about, is convinced that her son will
be lost, and forms her resolution:]

"Then there is hope for my poor child!" she thought, "and I can--I
_will_ save him!" With this resolve, she stole away as softly and
as quickly as her trembling limbs would permit. The depredators revelled
in their fancied security. The old creaking table groaned under the
weight of pheasant, hare, and ardent spirits; and the chorus of a wild
drinking-song broke upon her ear as returning strength enabled her to
hasten along the rude path leading to Craythorpe.

The first grey uncertain light of morning was visible through the old
churchyar