e if there was not urgent need."

There was urgent need, and she knew it, for had she not written that
appeal to him barely twenty-four hours ago? There had been no delay this
time in his coming.

"And he, Mr. Alston, is at your cottage?"

"Yes, miss, came back only about a hour ago, and he's waiting there. He
told me maybe you might come back with me, and he's trusting me not to
tell anyone he's here, miss."

"Yes, I understand. And, Mrs. Bonner, you think that girl is a spy?"

"I know it. Wasn't she starting to listen at the keyhole and me hardly
inside the room?"

Joan was silent for a moment. "Go back! Tell him--I shall
come--presently. Tell him I am grateful to him for coming so quickly."

"I'll tell him."

Mrs. Bonner was gone, and Joan sat there hesitating. A trembling fit of
nervousness had come to her, a sense of fear, strangely mingled with
joy.

"I must go, there is no one else, but--I do not wish to see him," and
yet she knew that she did. She wished to see him more than she wanted to
see anything on earth. So presently when Helen, who retired early, had
gone upstairs, Joan slipped a cloak over her shoulders and stole out of
the house as surreptitiously as any maid stealing to a love tryst.

In Mrs. Bonner's tiny sitting-room Hugh was pacing restlessly in the
confined space, pausing now and again to listen.

She was coming--coming. Presently she would be here, presently he would
see her, this girl of his dreams, standing before him with the lamplight
on her sweet face.

But it was not to pour out the story of his love that he had sent for
her to-night. He must remember that she came unattended, unprotected,
relying on his chivalry. Hugh took a grip on himself, and now he heard
the familiar creaking of the little gate, and in a moment was at the
door. But the excitement, the enthusiasm of just now was passed.

He looked at her standing before him. Looking at her, he pictured her as
he had seen her before, cold and haughty, her eyes hard and bright, her
lips curved with scorn for him, and now--he saw her with a flush in her
cheeks, and the brightness of her eyes was not cold, but soft and misty,
and her red-lipped mouth trembled.

Once he had seen her as now, all sweetness and tenderness. And so in his
dreams of her had he pictured her, and now he saw her so again, and knew
that his love for her and need of her were greater even than he had
believed.

"I sent for you, Hugh." She hesitated, a