hair, his keen blue eyes studying the fire
from beneath delicately pencilled, drooping eyelids. One white hand
plays thoughtfully with a heavy flaxen moustache; yet, once he starts,
and for an instant the languid lids raise themselves; there is a keen,
intent look upon the face as he listens for something. Then he leans
back in his chair, fills his glass from the silver flask in his bag, and
resumes his old posture.

Presently the door opens noiselessly. It is Lyndall, followed by Doss.
Quietly as she enters, he hears her, and turns.

"I thought you were not coming."

"I waited till all had gone to bed. I could not come before."

She removed the shawl that enveloped her, and the stranger rose to offer
her his chair; but she took her seat on a low pile of sacks before the
window.

"I hardly see why I should be outlawed after this fashion," he said,
reseating himself and drawing his chair a little nearer to her; "these
are hardly the quarters one expects to find after travelling a hundred
miles in answer to an invitation."

"I said, 'Come if you wish.'"

"And I did wish. You give me a cold reception."

"I could not take you to the house. Questions would be asked which I
could not answer without prevarication."

"Your conscience is growing to have a certain virgin tenderness," he
said, in a low, melodious voice.

"I have no conscience. I spoke one deliberate lie this evening. I said
the man who had come looked rough, we had best not have him in the
house; therefore I brought him here. It was a deliberate lie, and I hate
lies. I tell them if I must, but they hurt me."

"Well, you do not tell lies to yourself, at all events. You are candid,
so far."

She interrupted him.

"You got my short letter?"

"Yes; that is why I come. You sent a very foolish reply; you must take
it back. Who is this fellow you talk of marrying?"

"A young farmer."

"Lives here?"

"Yes; he has gone to town to get things for our wedding."

"What kind of a fellow is he?"

"A fool."

"And you would rather marry him than me?"

"Yes; because you are not one."

"That is a novel reason for refusing to marry a man," he said, leaning
his elbow on the table and watching her keenly.

"It is a wise one," she said shortly. "If I marry him I shall shake him
off my hand when it suits me. If I remained with him for twelve months
he would never have dared to kiss my hand. As far as I wish he should
come, he comes, and no further. Would y