ealed him. Dead owners had plainly spent much care upon the place,
for here alone in the neighbourhood were trees in abundance; but of late
it had been utterly neglected. It had run so wild that there were no
traces now of its early formal arrangement; and it was so hard to make
one's way, the vegetation was so thick, that it might almost have been
some remnant of primeval forest. But at last he came to a grassy path and
walked along it slowly. He stopped on a sudden, for he heard a sound. But
it was only a pheasant that flew heavily through the low trees. He
wondered what he should do if he came face to face with Oliver. The
innkeeper had assured him that the squire seldom came out, but spent his
days locked in the great attics at the top of the house. Smoke came from
the chimneys of them, even in the hottest days of summer, and weird tales
were told of the devilries there committed.

Arthur went on, hoping in the end to catch sight of Margaret, but he
saw no one. In that grey, chilly day the woods, notwithstanding their
greenery, were desolate and sad. A sombre mystery seemed to hang over
them. At last he came to a stone bench at a cross-way among the trees,
and, since it was the only resting-place he had seen, it struck him that
Margaret might come there to sit down. He hid himself in the bracken.
He had forgotten his watch and did not know how the time passed; he
seemed to be there for hours.

But at length his heart gave a great beat against his ribs, for all at
once, so silently that he had not heard her approach, Margaret came into
view. She sat on the stone bench. For a moment he dared not move in case
the sound frightened her. He could not tell how to make his presence
known. But it was necessary to do something to attract her attention,
and he could only hope that she would not cry out.

'Margaret,' he called softly.

She did not move, and he repeated her name more loudly. But still she
made no sign that she had heard. He came forward and stood in front of
her.

'Margaret.'

She looked at him quietly. He might have been someone she had never set
eyes on, and yet from her composure she might have expected him to be
standing there.

'Margaret, don't you know me?'

'What do you want?' she answered placidly.

He was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. She kept gazing
at him steadfastly. On a sudden her calmness vanished, and she sprang to
her feet.

'Is it you really?' she cried, terribly