wn upon the
threshold dropped her chin in her hands and fixed her eyes upon the
darkening lake.

"Why, mistress! The beast here at the cabin, and it nightfall? My poor
fowls!"

"He's leashed, you see, Angelique. And I'll lock the poultry up, if
you like," observed Adrian. Anything to delay a little an interview
from which he shrank with something very like that cowardice of which
the girl had once accused him.

[Illustration: HER PETS ON EITHER SIDE OF HER]

The housekeeper's ready temper flamed, and she laid an ungentle touch
upon the stranger's shoulder.

"Go, boy. When Master Hugh commands, 'tis not for such as we to
disobey."

"All right. I'm going. And I'll remember."

At the inner doorway he turned and looked back. Margot was still
sitting, thoughtful and motionless, the firelight from the great
hearth making a Rembrandt-like silhouette of her slight figure against
the outer darkness and touching her wonderful hair to a flood of
silver. Reynard and the eagle, the wild foresters her love had tamed,
stood guard on either side. It was a picture that appealed to Adrian's
artistic sense and he lingered a little, regarding its "effects," even
considering what pigments would best convey them.

"Adrian!"

"Yes, Angelique. Yes."

When the door shut behind him Angelique touched her darling's shining
head, and the toil-stiffened fingers had for it almost a mother's
tenderness.

"Sweetheart, the bedtime."

"I know. I'm going. Angelique, my uncle sent me from him to-night. It
was the first time in all my life that I remember."

"Maybe, little stupid, because you've never waited for that, before,
but were quick enough to see whenever you were not wanted."

"He---- There's something wrong and Adrian is the cause of it.
I--Angelique, you tell me. Uncle did not hear, or reply, anyway. Where
is my father buried?"

Angelique was prepared and had her answer ready.

"'Tis not for a servant to reveal what her master hides. No. All will
come to you in good time. Tarry the master's will. But, that silly
Pierre! What think you? Is it fifty dollar would be the price of the
tame blue herons? Hey?"

"No. Nor fifty times fifty. Pierre knows that. Love is more than
money."

"Sometimes, to some folks. Well, what would you? That son will
be havin' even me, his old mother, in his 'show,' why not? As a
cur'osity--the only livin' human bein' can make that ingrate mind.
Yes. To bed, my child."

Margot rose and housed her