g back Pearl to Polly.

Shortly before the moon arose, and long after sunset, Maggie crept down
the attic stairs, unlatched the house door, and stepped out into the
quiet village street. Her fear was that some neighbors would see her,
and either insist on accompanying her on her errand, or bring her home.
The village, however, was very quiet that night, and at nine o'clock,
when Maggie started on her search, there were very few people out.

She came quickly to the top of the small street, crossed a field,
squeezed through a gap in the hedge, and found herself on the borders of
Peg-Top Moor. The moon was bright by this time, and there was no fear of
Maggie not seeing. She stepped over the ground briskly, a solitary
little figure with a long shadow ever stalking before her, and a
beating, defiant heart in her breast. She had quite determined that
whatever agony she went through, her fears should not conquer her; she
would fight them down with a strong hand, she would go forward on her
road, come what might.

Maggie was an ignorant little cottager, and there were many folk-lore
tales abroad with regard to the moor which might have frightened a
stouter heart than hers. She believed fully in the ghost who was to be
seen when the moon was at the full, pacing slowly up and down, through
that plantation of trees at her right; she had unswerving faith in the
bogey who uttered terrific cries, and terrified the people who were
brave enough to walk at night through Deadman's Glen. But she believed
more fully still in Polly, in Polly's love and despair, and in the
sacredness of the errand which she was now undertaking to deliver her
from her trouble.

From Mrs. Ricketts' cottage to the hermit's hut there lay a stretch of
moorland covering some miles in extent, and Maggie knew that the lonely
journey she was taking could not come to a speedy end.

She knew, however, that she had got on the right track and that by
putting one foot up and one foot down, as the children do who want to
reach London town, she also at last would come to her destination.

The moon shone brightly, and the little maid, her shadow always going
before her, stepped along bravely.

Now and then that same shadow seemed to assume gigantic and unearthly
proportions, but at other times it wore a friendly aspect, and somewhat
comforted the young traveler.

"It's more or less part of me," quoth Maggie, "and I must say as I'm
glad I have it, it's better nor nou