for the longed-for sound,--the sound of
approaching wheels.

Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilight
deepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the soft
night noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day died
away. But Hilda had ears for only one sound. At length, out of the
silence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint,
clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. There
was no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs, and with it was a dim
suggestion of a rattle, a jingle. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer was
coming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just coming
down the stairs. "The farmer is coming," she said, hastily; "he is
almost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back--" and she was
gone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question.

Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, only
stopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to put
some matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully,
and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past the
cow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was so
familiar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blindfold; and
this was well for her, for in the dense shade of the beech-plantation it
was now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caught
the tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was something
ghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerves
had been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer full
control of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to the
dog and hurried on.

Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade; down the
pine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwood
at the right, and the ruined mill looming black before her. Now came the
three broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Round
the corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping
her way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily,
so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must light
the lantern before she ventured down the long flight of steps. The
match spurted, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faint
light on the immediate space around her. It only made the outer darkness