low salutation, but then dropped her face in her hands in a perfect passion of weeping.  It came and went like a Summer storm, and again she was looking intently.  Now past Mr. Falkirk’s white domicile, where her glittering eyes flashed round upon him the “welcome home” which her lips spoke but unsteadily,—­then on, on, up the hill, the thick trees hiding the sunset and brushing the carriage with leafy hands,—­it seemed to Mr. Rollo that still as the very fingers of his companion were, he could almost feel the bound of her spirit.  Then out on a little platform of the road—­and there, he did not know why she leaned forward so eagerly, till he saw across the dell the shining of white marble.

He watched her, but drove on without making the least call upon her attention.  The views opened and softened as they drew near the house; the trees here had been more thinned out, and were by consequence larger; the carriage passed from one great shadow to another, with the thrushes ringing out their clear music and the wild roses breathing upon the evening air.  From out the forest came wafts of dark dewy coolness, overhead the clouds revelled in splendour.  Up still the horses went, ever ascending, but slowly, for the ascent was steep.  The delay, the length of the drive tired her,—­she sat up again—­she had been quietly leaning back; once or twice her hand went up with a quick movement to drive back the feeling that was passing limits; then gaining level ground once more, the horses sprang forward, and in the failing twilight they swept round before the house.  Except the tower, it was but two stories high, the front stretching along, with wide low steps running from end to end.  In unmatched glee Dingee stood on the carriage way showing his teeth,—­on the steps, striving in vain to clear her eyes so that she might see, was Mrs. Bywank; her kindly figure, which each succeeding year had gently developed, robed in her state dress of black silk.

Taking advantage of her outside position,—­regardless of steps as of wheels,—­Wych Hazel vanished from the carriage, it was hard to say how.  As difficult as it would have been to guess by what witchcraft a person or Mr. Bywank’s proportions could be spirited through the doorway—­out of sight—­in a twinkling of time; yet it was done, and the steps were empty.

The hill at Chickaree was steepest on the side towards the west, and down that slope an opening had been cut through the trees—­a sort of pathway for the sunbeams.  The direct rays were gone, and only the warm sky glow brightened the hall door, when the young mistress of the place once more appeared.  She stood still a moment and went back again; and then came Dingee.

’Miss Hazel say, sar, room’s ready and supper won’t be long.  Whar Mass Rollo?’

‘I suppose he’ll be here directly.’

Mr. Falkirk did not go into the house immediately; he stood with folded arms waiting, or watching the fading red glow of the western sky.  In about ten minutes the tramp of a horse’s feet heralded the coming of Mr. Rollo, who appeared from the corner or the house, mounted on an old grey cob, who switched his tail and moved his ears as if he thought going out at that time of day a peculiar proceeding.  Dingee staid the rider with the delivery of his young lady’s message.