Tommy winced like one charged with open cruelty to his sister—­charged with it, too, by the real criminal.

“It is not true?” David asked quietly, and Tommy turned from him glaring.  “I am sorry I spoke of it, as it is not true,” the doctor said after a pause, the crow’s-feet showing round his eyes as always when he was in mental pain; and presently he went away, after giving Tommy a contemptuous look.  Did Tommy deserve that look?  We must remember that he had wanted to make the engagement public at once; if he shrank from admitting it for the present, it was because of Elspeth’s plight.  “Grizel, you might have given her a little time to recover from this man’s faithlessness,” was what his heart cried.  He believed that Grizel had told David, and for the last time in his life he was angry with her.  He strode down the hill savagely towards Caddam Wood, where he knew he should find her.

Soon he saw her.  She was on one of the many tiny paths that lead the stranger into the middle of the wood and then leave him there maliciously or because they dare not venture any farther themselves.  They could play no tricks on Grizel, however, for she knew and was fond of them all.  Tommy had said that she loved them because they were such little paths, that they appealed to her like babies; and perhaps there was something in it.

She came up the path with the swing of one who was gleefully happy.  Some of the Thrums people, you remember, said that Grizel strutted because she was so satisfied with herself, and if you like an ugly word, we may say that she strutted to-day.  It was her whole being giving utterance to the joy within her that love had brought.  As Grizel came up the path on that bright afternoon, she could no more have helped strutting than the bud to open on the appointed day.  She was obeying one of Nature’s laws.  I think I promised long ago to tell you of the day when Grizel would strut no more.  Well, this is the day.  Observe her strutting for the last time.  It was very strange and touching to her to remember in the after years that she had once strutted, but it was still more strange and touching to Tommy.

She was like one overfilled with delight when she saw him.  How could she know that he was to strike her?

He did not speak.  She was not displeased.  When anything so tremendous happened as the meeting of these two, how could they find words at once?

She bent and pressed her lips to his sleeve; but he drew away with a gesture that startled her.

“You are not angry?” she said, stopping.

“Yes,” he replied doggedly.

“Not with me?” Her hand went to her heart.  “With me!” A wounded animal could not have uttered a cry more pathetic.  “Not with me!” She clutched his arm.

“Have I no cause to be angry?” he said.

She looked at him in bewilderment.  Could this be he?  Oh, could it be she?

“Cause?  How could I give you cause?”