lear eyes of hers wide open to his face,
to see if he meant it; the wilful little tugs of her hand when they
two went exploring the customs of birds, or bees, or flowers; all her
'Daddy, I love yous!' and her rushes to the front door, and long hugs
when he came back from a travel; all those later crookings of her
little finger in his, and the times he had sat when she did not know
it, watching her, and thinking: 'That little creature, with all that's
before her, is my very own daughter to take care of, and share joy and
sorrow with....' Each one of all these seemed to come now and tweak at
him, as the songs of blackbirds tweak the heart of one who lies, unable
to get out into the Spring. His lamp had burned itself quite out; the
moon was fallen below the clump of pines, and away to the north-east
something stirred in the stain and texture of the sky. Felix opened
the window. What peace out there! The chill, scentless peace of night,
waiting for dawn's renewal of warmth and youth. Through that bay window
facing north he could see on one side the town, still wan with the light
of its lamps, on the other the country, whose dark bloom was graying
fast. Suddenly a tiny bird twittered, and Felix saw his two truants
coming slowly from the gate across the grass, his arm round her
shoulders, hers round his waist. With their backs turned to him, they
passed the corner of the house, across where the garden sloped away.
There they stood above the wide country, their bodies outlined against
a sky fast growing light, evidently waiting for the sun to rise. Silent
they stood, while the birds, one by one, twittered out their first
calls. And suddenly Felix saw the boy fling his hand up into the air.
The Sun! Far away on the gray horizon was a flare of red!

CHAPTER XVIII

The anxieties of the Lady Mallorings of this life concerning the moral
welfare of their humbler neighbors are inclined to march in front of
events. The behavior in Tryst's cottage was more correct than it would
have been in nine out of ten middle or upper class demesnes under
similar conditions. Between the big laborer and 'that woman,' who,
since the epileptic fit, had again come into residence, there had passed
nothing whatever that might not have been witnessed by Biddy and her two
nurslings. For love is an emotion singularly dumb and undemonstrative
in those who live the life of the fields; passion a feeling severely
beneath the thumb of a propriety born of th