she could not,
she dared not ask herself. She was content to sit there, her eyes wide
open now, the tired lines smoothed from her forehead, her face like the
face of an eager and beautiful child. No one of her world would have
recognized her, as she travelled that night through the perfumed lanes.

It was when they were within a mile or two of home that an awakening
came. They had turned into a lonely lane leading to one of the back
entrances to Thorpe, and were climbing a somewhat steep hill. Suddenly
the horses plunged and almost stopped. She leaned forward.

"What is it, Johnson?" she asked.

The man touched his hat.

"The 'osses shied, madam, at the light in the trees there. Enough to
frighten 'em, too."

Her eyes followed his pointing finger. A few yards back from the
roadside, a small, steady light was burning amongst the trees.

"What is it?" she asked quickly.

"I can't say, madam," the man answered. "It looks like a lantern or a
candle, or something of that sort."

"There is no cottage there?" she asked.

The man shook his head.

"There's none nearer than the first lodge, madam," he answered. "There's
a bit of a shelter there--Higgs, the keeper, built it for a watchman."

"Can I take care of the horses for a moment, while you go and see what
it is?" she asked.

"They take a bit of holding, madam," the man answered doubtfully. "We
got your message so late at the stables, or I should have had a second
man."

Wilhelmina stepped softly out into the road.

"I will go myself," she said. "I daresay it is nothing. If I call,
though, you must leave the horses and come to me."

She opened the gate, and raising her skirts with both hands, stepped
into the plantation. Her small, white-shod feet fell noiselessly upon
the thick undergrowth; she reached the entrance of the shelter without
making any sound. Cautiously she peeped in. Her eyes grew round with
surprise, her bosom began rapidly to rise and fall. It was Macheson who
lay there, fast asleep! He had fallen asleep evidently whilst reading.
A book was lying by his side, and a covered lantern was burning by his
left shoulder. He was dressed in trousers and shirt; the latter was open
at the throat, showing its outline firm and white, and his regular
breathing. She drew a step nearer, and leaned over him. Curiously
enough, in sleep the boyishness of his face was less apparent. The
straight, firm mouth, rigidly closed, was the mouth of a man; his limbs,