And you had the face to ax to be taken
there. No, I've no room for you;" and she shut the door of the
house in Mehetabel's face.

The unhappy girl staggered away with her burden, and sank into a
hedge. The evening was drawing on, and she must find a house to
shelter her, or else seek out the cave where she had lodged before.

Then she recalled what Joe Filmer had said--that Iver had returned
to the Ship. A light flashed through her soul at the thought.

Iver would care for her. He who had been her earliest and dearest
friend; he, who through all his years of absence, had cherished
the thought of her; he who had told her that the Ship was no home
to him without her in it; that he valued Thursley only because
she lived there; he who had clasped her with his arm, called her
his own and only one; to him--to him--at last, without guilt,
without scruples; she could fly to him and say, "Iver, I am driven
from door to door; no one will receive me. Every one is suspicious
of me, thinks evil of me. But you--yourself, who have known me
from infancy--you who baptized me to save me from becoming a
wanderer--see, a wanderer, homeless, with my poor babe, I come
to you--do you provide that I may be housed and sheltered. I ask
not for myself so much as for my little one! To Iver--to Iver--as
my one refuge, my only hope!"

Then it was as though her heart were light, and her heels winged.
She sprang up from where she had cast herself, and forgetful of
her weariness, ran, and stayed not till she had reached the familiar
porch of the dear old Ship.

And already through the bar window a light shone. The night had
not set in, yet a light was shining forth, a ray of gold, to
welcome the wanderer, to draw her in, with promise of comfort
and of rest.

And there--there in the porch door stood Iver.

"What! Mehetabel! come here--here--after all! Come in at once.
Welcome! A word together we must have! My little Mehetabel! Welcome!
Welcome!"

CHAPTER L.

MOVE ON.

"Come in, little friend! dear Matabel! come into the kitchen, by
the fire, and let us have a talk." His voice was cheery, his
greeting hearty, his manner frank.

He drew her along the passage, and brought her into the little
kitchen in which that declaration had taken place, the very last
time she had been within the doors of the inn, and he seated her
in the settle, the very place she had occupied when he poured out
his heart to her.

Mehetabel could not speak.