her ears—­“One by one shall your children be taken from you to serve my purposes!” Through the dense fog she fancied that he glared upon her in bitter hatred—­his deep-set eyes flashing with demoniac fire, and his smile, now extending, now contracting, into all the varied expressions of triumphant malignity!  She pressed her hand on her eyes to shut out the horrid vision, and, a prayer, a simple prayer, rose to her lips.  Like oil upon the troubled waters, it soothed and composed her spirit.  She could not arrange, or even remember, a form of words; but she repeated, again and again, the emphatic appeal, “Lord, save me, I perish!” until she felt sufficient strength to enable her to look again into the night.  As if hope had set its beacon in the sky, calmly and brightly the moon was now shining upon her cottage.  With the sudden change, at once the curse and blessing of our climate, a sharp east wind had set in, and was rolling the mist from the canopy of heaven.  Numerous stars were visible, where, but five minutes before, all had been darkness and gloom.  The shadow passed from her soul; she gazed steadily upwards; her mind regained its firmness; her resolve was taken.  She returned to her bed-room, dressed, and, wrapping her cloak closely to her bosom, was quickly on her way to the Smiths’ dwelling, on Craythorpe Common.

The solitary hut was more than two miles from the village; the path leading to it broken and interrupted by fragments of rocks, roots of furze, and stubbed underwood, and, at one particular point, intersected by a deep and brawling brook.  Soon after Grace had crossed this stream, she came in view of the cottage, looking like a misshapen mound of earth; and, upon peering in at the window, which was only partially lined by a broken shutter, Covey, the lurcher, uttered, from the inside, a sharp muttering bark, something between reproof and recognition.  There had certainly been a good fire, not long before, on the capacious hearth, for the burning ashes cast a lurid light upon an old table, and two or three dilapidated chairs.  There was also a fowling-piece lying across the table; but it was evident none of the inmates were at home; and Grace walked slowly, yet disappointedly, round the dwelling, till she came to the other side, that rested against a huge mass of mingled rock and clay, overgrown with long tangled fern and heather.  She climbed to the top, and had not been many minutes on the look-out ere she perceived three men rapidly approaching from the opposite path.  As they drew nearer, she saw that one of them was her husband; but where was her son?  Silently she lay among the heather, fearing she knew not what—­yet knowing she had much to fear.  The chimney that rose from the sheeling had, she thought, effectually concealed her from their view, but in this she was mistaken; for, while Huntley and one of the Smiths entered the abode, the other climbed up the mound.  She saw his hat within a foot of where she rested,