beginning to see her mistake. 'It was because I was sorry I had blamed
you.'

'I am almost glad you did blame me,' said John cheerfully, 'since, if you
had not, the letter would not have come. I have read it fifty times a
day.'

This put Anne into an unhappy mood, and they proceeded without much
further talk till the mill chimneys were visible below them. John then
said that he would leave her to go in by herself.

'Ah, you are going back to get into some danger on my account?'

'I can't get into much danger with such a fellow as he, can I?' said
John, smiling.

'Well, no,' she answered, with a sudden carelessness of tone. It was
indispensable that he should be undeceived, and to begin the process by
taking an affectedly light view of his personal risks was perhaps as good
a way to do it as any. Where friendliness was construed as love, an
assumed indifference was the necessary expression for friendliness.

So she let him go; and, bidding him hasten back as soon as he could, went
down the hill, while John's feet retraced the upland.

The trumpet-major spent the whole afternoon and evening in that long and
difficult search for Festus Derriman. Crossing the down at the end of
the second hour he met Molly and Mrs. Loveday. The gig had been
repaired, they had learnt the groundlessness of the alarm, and they would
have been proceeding happily enough but for their anxiety about Anne.
John told them shortly that she had got a lift home, and proceeded on his
way.

The worthy object of his search had in the meantime been plodding
homeward on foot, sulky at the loss of his charger, encumbered with his
sword, belts, high boots, and uniform, and in his own discomfiture
careless whether Anne Garland's life had been endangered or not.

At length Derriman reached a place where the road ran between high banks,
one of which he mounted and paced along as a change from the hard
trackway. Ahead of him he saw an old man sitting down, with eyes fixed
on the dust of the road, as if resting and meditating at one and the same
time. Being pretty sure that he recognized his uncle in that venerable
figure, Festus came forward stealthily, till he was immediately above the
old man's back. The latter was clothed in faded nankeen breeches,
speckled stockings, a drab hat, and a coat which had once been light
blue, but from exposure as a scarecrow had assumed the complexion and
fibre of a dried pudding-cloth. The farmer was, in fact