nformation that were perhaps
better than books. The walk was good, too; the air bracing, and the
village sights and sounds in a subsiding glimmer and murmur. The
evening out of doors was worth as much as the evening within doors
could have been. Faith thought so. The way was down the road that led
to Barley point, branching off from that. The distance to the poor
cottage seemed short enough, but if it had seemed long Faith would have
felt herself well paid--so much was the supply needed, so joyfully was
it received. The basket was left there for Mr. Skip to bring home
another time, and at a rather late hour in the evening the return walk
began.

The night was sharp and frosty, and still, now, with a depth of
silence. The moon, high and full, beamed down in silver splendour, and
the face of the earth was all white or black. The cold, clear light,
the sharp shadows angling and defining everything, the absolute
stillness--how well they chimed!--and chime they did, albeit
noiselessly. In that bracing air the very steps of the two homeward
bound people seemed to spring more light and elastic, and gave little
sound. They went on together with a quick even step,--the very walking
was pleasant. For a while they talked busily too,--then Thought came in
and claimed her place, and words ceased.

They had left the turn to the belt of woods, and were now passing one
or two empty fields where low hedges made a black line of demarcation,
and the moonlight seemed even whiter than before. Faith was on the side
next the road, and both a little way out, for the walking was smoother
and dryer.

How it was done Faith could not tell--the next two seconds seemed full
of separate things which she remembered afterwards--but her hand was
disengaged from Mr. Linden's arm, and he was standing before her and
she behind him, almost before she had fairly seen a little flash of red
light from the hedge before them. A sharp report--a powdery taint on
the sweet air, came then to give their evidence--to what?

That second past, Mr. Linden turned, but still standing so as to shield
her, and laid both hands on her shoulders.

"Are you hurt?" he said, in a voice lowered by feeling, not intent.

One bewildered instant she stood mute--perhaps with no breath for
words; the next minute, with a motion too unexpected and sudden to be
hindered, lifting both hands she threw his off, bounded to one side to
be clear of him, and sprang like a gazelle towards