were successfully passed. Miriam knew that very soon the
moment would come for him to stay--or go. And it was in all probability
this reflection that helped her to make certain discoveries in herself
that at first she did not in the least understand.

Spinrobin, however, understood perfectly. His own heart made him
intuitive enough for that. And the first signs thrilled and moved him
prodigiously. His account of it all is like no love story that has ever
been heard, for in the first place this singular girl hardly breathed
about her the reality of an actual world. She had known nothing beyond
the simple life in this hollow of the hills on the one hand, and on the
other the portentous conceptions that peopled the region of dream
revealed by the clergyman. And in the second place she had no standards
but her own instincts to judge by, for Mrs. Mawle, in spite of her
devotion to the girl, suffered under too great disabilities to fill the
place of a mother, while Mr. Skale was too lost in his vast speculations
to guide her except in a few general matters, and too sure of her at the
same time to reflect that she might ever need detailed guidance. Her
exceedingly natural and wholesome bringing-up on the one hand, and her
own native purity and good sense on the other, however, led her fairly
straight; while the fact that Spinrobin, with his modesty and his fine
aspirations, was a "little gentleman" into the bargain, ensured that no
unlawful temptation should be placed in her way, or undue pressure, based
upon her ignorance, employed.

II

They were coming down one afternoon from the mountains soon after the
test of calling his name, and they were alone, the clergyman being
engaged upon some mysterious business that had kept him out of sight all
day. They did not talk much, but they were happy in each other's company,
Spinrobin more than happy. Much of the time, when the ground allowed,
they went along hand in hand like children.

"Miriam," he had asked on the top of the moors, "did I ever tell you
about Winky--my little friend Winky?" And she had looked up with a smile
and shaken her head. "But I like the name," she added; "I should like to
hear, please." And he told her how as a boy he had invoked various folk
to tease his sister, of whom Winky was chief, but in telling the story he
somehow or other always referred to the little person by name, and never
once revealed his sex. He told, too, how he sat all night on the la