They soon came to where the rock cropped out from the sloping ground and formed a ledge along the margin of the diminished stream, and soon reached the little cove; there was the rude shelter which had covered Julia, and under it the couch of shavings on which she had rested, a little scattered and just as she had left it; and, near its foot, the still fresh brands that almost seemed to smoke.  How strong and real it all came to the sensibilities of the girl!  Nothing had been there but the tender silent fingers of nature.  Yes, as she sat down on her old bed, and glanced up, she saw a bright-eyed Phoebe-bird who had built just over her head, and now was on her nest, while her mate poured out the cheery clang of his love song, on a limb near by.  The little half circle of ground, walled in by the high mossy rocks, opened southerly, and received the full glow of the afternoon sun, while in front of it ran the laughing, gleeful creek.  It was very bright, but to Julia very, very lonely.  In a few words she pointed out to the sympathizing Bose the few localities, and mentioned the incidents of that awful morning, and then she turned very gravely and thoughtfully back.

Rose very, very much wanted to ask about Barton; her woman’s instincts told her that here was a something sweet and yet mysterious, that made everything so dear to this beautiful and now pensive girl by her side.  His name had not been mentioned, and Julia had only referred to him, as “he did this;” “he sat by that tree.”  At last Rose ventured:  “Where is he—­this Mr. Ridgeley?  Mother said he went away.”

“Yes; I never saw him after you took me into your bed, Rose,” said Julia.

“He saw you after that, Miss Markham.”

“What do you mean, Rose?”

“I am sure you would like to know,” said Rose.  “I know I would.  Mother said that after father had gone, and after we were asleep, he asked her if he might just look upon you for a moment; and she opened the door, and he stood in it, looked towards you for a second, and then turned and went out without a single word, seeming very much agitated.”  Rose’s voice was a little agitated too.  Though she felt the arm that was twined tenderly about her waist, she did not dare to look in the face so near her own.  “Mother says,” she continued, “that he was very handsome and very pale.  I suppose he is very poor, but—­”

“But what, Rose?”

“I am sure,” she said, hesitatingly, “that will make no difference.”

Julia only answered with a little caress.

“When he comes back,” said simple Rose, who was certain that it would all come right, “he will want to come and see that lovely little place, and you will want to come with him; I would like to see him.”

“When he comes back,” said Julia, brightly, “you shall see him, little Rose; you are a dear, good girl, and if you are ever in peril, I am sure some brave, handsome man will come to you.”