ve had a long walk," he returned. "It was such a lovely evening,
so I resolved to miss supper for once." He tried to speak in a jaunty
fashion, but it was a ghastly failure, and he knew it. He was so sick
and faint with inanition that he felt as though he could not utter
another word. "I am tired, I think I will go to bed. Good-night you
two;" and he groped his way to the garden-house.

Amias took his pipe from his mouth and looked at his wife inquiringly.

"What's come to Herrick?" he said in a concerned tone; "he looks dead
beat. We thought he was dining at the Wood House; at least you said so,
Yea-Verily, my child, and I believed you."

"Yes, I know, dear; but we were both wrong, and he has eaten nothing,
that is evident." And then she got up quickly. "The kitchen fire is
still alight, and the kettle will soon boil; I told Martha to leave it.
I will make him some coffee, and you shall take it to him. And, Amias,
you dear old thing, don't talk to him; he is not fit for it to-night."

And so it was that a quarter of an hour later Amias knocked at
Malcolm's door, and was reluctantly bidden to enter.

Malcolm was sitting still fully dressed by the open window, and the
moonlight made him look still more ghastly. Amias, without a word,
lighted the lamp and placed the tray beside him. "Verity sends her
love, and says you must eat your supper," was all he ventured to say,
but his large hand rested kindly on Malcolm's shoulder for a moment.
Malcolm tried to thank him, but the words would not come. But when his
friend had left the room he suddenly covered his face with his hands
and cried like a child. "Elizabeth--Elizabeth!" but there was no
response; only a sleepy bird stirred in the shrubbery. In spite of his
great intimacy with the Kestons and his very real friendship, Malcolm
did not confide in either of them. He was undemonstrative and
self-reliant by nature, and, as he said himself afterwards, "There are
some things that a man ought to keep to himself." But neither Amias nor
Verity expected any such confidence.

If Amias seemed puzzled by the change in Malcolm, Verity needed no
explanation. She had seen how things were from the first. She had once
caught sight of Malcolm's face when Elizabeth Templeton had passed him
so closely that her dress brushed against him. She had seen that look
in Amias's eyes in the dear auld lang syne.

Verity was a loyal little soul, and she never even hinted her
suspicions to her husb