incidental sort of way. She got out into the starlight, and stepped
over the grassy sward of the field in a maze; she hardly felt the
ground; it was not till she reached the fence and found herself in the
road, that Eleanor really roused up. Then it was necessary to turn in
one direction or the other; and Eleanor could not tell which to take.
She stood still and tried to collect herself. Which side of the road
was the barn? She could not remember; she was completely confused and
turned about; and in the starlight she could be sure of no tree or
fence or other landmark. She stood still, while the people poured past
her and in groups or in pairs took the one direction or the opposite.
Part went one way and part went the other, to Wiglands and to Rythdale.
Eleanor longed to ask which way somebody was going, but she was afraid
of betraying herself. She did not dare. Yet if she took the wrong
turning, she might find herself in the Rythdale valley, a great
distance from Wiglands, and with a lone road to traverse all the way
back again. Her heart beat. What should she do? The people poured past
her, dividing off right and left; they would be all scattered soon to
their several homes, and she would be left alone. She must do something
quickly. Yet she shrank very much from speaking, and still stood by the
fence trembling and hesitating.

"Are you alone?" said a voice at her shoulder that she knew very well.
If a cannon had gone off at her feet, it would not have startled
Eleanor more. The tone of the question implied that _she_ was known.
She was too startled to answer. The words were repeated. "Are you
alone?"

Eleanor's "yes" got out, with nothing distinguishable except the last
letter.

"I have a waggon here," said he. "Come with me."

The speaker waited for no answer to the words which were not a request;
and acting as decidedly as he had spoken, took hold of Eleanor's arm
and led her forward to a little vehicle which had just drawn up. He
helped her into it, took his place beside her, and drove away; but he
said not another word.

It was Mr. Rhys, and Eleanor knew that he had recognized her. She sat
in a stupor of confusion and shame. What would he think of her! and
what could she make him think? Must she be a bold, wild girl in his
estimation for ever? Why would he not speak? He drove on in perfect
silence. Eleanor must say something to break it. And it was extremely
difficult, and she had to be bold to do that.