Felix, changing!"

But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two
nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of her
face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, up started
that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it come? What did it
want of him? After writing the little note to Nedda, he hurried to
the station and found a train about to start. To see and talk with the
laborers; to do something, anything to prove that this tragic companion
had no real existence! He went first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door,
there, was opened by the rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a
linen frock, with her sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his
astonishment.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just to
tiddy up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back here, I
wouldn't--not if you was to give me--" and she pouted her red lips.

"Where's your father, Wilmet?"

"Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, Mr.
Derek. You do look pale. Were you very bad?" And her eyes opened as
though the very thought of illness was difficult for her to grasp. "I
saw your young lady up in London. She's very pretty. Wish you happiness,
Mr. Derek. Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!"

The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her
shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting. And with a
sudden miserable feeling the boy said:

"I'll go and find him. Good-by, Wilmet!"

"Good-by, Mr. Derek. 'Tis quiet enough here now; there's changes."

Her rogue face twinkled again, and, turning her chin, she rubbed it on
her plump shoulder, as might a heifer, while from behind her Grandfather
Gaunt's face looked out with a faint, sardonic grin.

Derek, hurrying on to Willey's Copse, caught sight, along a far hedge,
of the big dark laborer, Tulley, who had been his chief lieutenant in
the fighting; but, whether the man heard his hail or no, he continued
along the hedgeside without response and vanished over a stile. The
field dipped sharply to a stream, and at the crossing Derek came
suddenly on the little 'dot-here dot-there' cowherd, who, at Derek's
greeting, gave him an abrupt "Good day!" and went on with his occupation
of mending a hurdle. Again that miserable feeling beset the boy, and
he hastened on. A sound of choppi