"

"Let me go," she pleaded. "Don't be afraid for me. I could not stay
away. Let me go--for Joan's sake."

So he gave way, and they passed out together. But they did not find her
in the church-yard. The gate had been pushed open and hung swing-ing on
its hinges. There were fresh footprints upon the damp clay of the path
that led to the corner where the child lay, and when they approached
the little mound they saw that something had been dropped upon the grass
near it. It was a thin, once gay-colored, little red shawl. Anice bent
down and picked it up. "She has been here," she said.

It was Anice who, after this, first thought of going to the old cottage
upon the Knoll Road. The afternoon was waning when they left the
church-yard; when they came within sight of the cottage the sun had sunk
behind the hills. In the red, wintry light, the place looked terribly
desolate. Weeds had sprung up about the house, and their rank growth
covered the very threshold, the shutters hung loose and broken, and a
damp greenness had crept upon the stone step.

A chill fell upon her when they stood before the gate and saw what was
within. Something besides the clinging greenness had crept upon the
step,--something human,--a homeless creature, who might have staggered
there and fallen, or who might have laid herself there to die. It was
Liz, lying with her face downward and with her dead hand against the
closed door.

CHAPTER XLIV - Not Yet

Mrs. Galloway arose and advanced to meet her visitor with a slightly
puzzled air.

"Mr. ------" she began.

"Fergus Derrick," ended the young man. "From Riggan, madam."

She held out her hand cordially.

"Joan is in the garden," she said, after a few moments of earnest
conversation. "Go to her."

It was a day very different from the one upon which Joan Lowrie had
come to Ashley-Wold. Spring had set her light foot fairly upon the green
Kentish soil. Farther north she had only begun to show her face timidly,
but here the atmosphere was fresh and balmy, the hedges were budding
bravely, and there was a low twitter of birds in the air. The garden
Anice had so often tended was flushing into bloom in sunny corners, and
the breath of early violets was sweet in it. Derrick was conscious of
their springtime odor as he walked down the path, in the direction Mrs.
Galloway had pointed out. It was a retired nook where evergreens were
growing, and where the violet fragrance was more powerful than any