Then there was a scream of the whistle, and the train rolled away with Ferris standing white with fury on the platform of a car.

In the meanwhile Maud Barrington spent a sleepless night.  Ferris’s taunt had reached its mark, and she realized with confusion that it was the truth he spoke.  The fact that brought the blood to her cheeks would no longer be hidden, and she knew it was a longing to punish the lad who had struck down the man she loved that had led to her insistence on the former leaving Silverdale.  It was a difficult admission, but she made it that night.  The outcast who had stepped out of the obscurity, and into her peaceful life, had shown himself a man that any woman might be proud to mate with, and, though he had said very little, and now and then his words were bitter, she knew that he loved her.  Whatever he had done, and she felt against all the teachings of her reason that it had not been evil, he had shown himself the equal of the best at Silverdale, and she laughed as she wondered which of the men there she could set in the balance against him.  Then she shivered a little, remembering that there was a barrier whose extent he alone realized between them, and wondered vaguely what the future would bring.

It was a week or two before Winston was on his feet again, and Maud Barrington was one of the first to greet him when he walked feebly into the hall.  She had, however, decided on the line of conduct that would be most fitting, and there was no hint of more than neighborly kindliness in her tone.  They had spoken about various trifles when Winston turned to her.

“You and Miss Barrington have taken such good care of me that if I consulted my inclinations I would linger in convalescence a long while,” he said.  “Still, I must make an effort to get away to-morrow.”

“We cannot take the responsibility of letting you go under a week yet,” said Maud Barrington.  “Have you anything especially important to do?”

“Yes,” said Winston, and the girl understood the grimness of his face.  “I have.”

“It concerns the fire?”

Winston looked at her curiously.  “I would sooner you did not ask me that question, Miss Barrington.”

“I scarcely fancy it is necessary,” said the girl, with a little smile.  “Still, I have something to tell you, and a favor to ask.  Ferris has left Silverdale, and you must never make any attempt to discover what caused the fire.”

“You know?”

“Yes,” said Maud Barrington.  “Dane, Macdonald, and Hassal know, too, but you will not ask them, and if you did they would not tell you.”

“I can refuse you nothing,” said Winston with a laugh, though his voice betrayed him.  “Still, I want a quid pro quo.  Wait until Ferris’s farm is in the sale list and then take it with the growing crop.”

“I could not.  There are reasons,” said the girl.

Winston gazed at her steadily, and a little color crept to his forehead, but he answered unconcernedly, “They can be over-ridden.  It may be the last favor I shall ever ask of you.”