“Then where do I belong?”

“To the sunrise, when the earth is fresh and the day is getting bright.  Promise is your sign; fulfilment hasn’t come.”

Helen colored, and as she turned her head it struck her as portentous that she glanced towards the saffron streak that glimmered in the West.  When she looked back, however, her face was calm.

“Ah!” she said, “I wonder how and where the fulfilment will come!  Sometimes I think of it and feel afraid; my life has been so smooth.”

“You won’t flinch if you have to bear some strain.”

Helen gave him her hand.  “Well, you must go now.  I will expect you to-morrow.”

She stood looking towards the fading light for some time after his figure melted into the shadows on the drive.  Her heart beat and she felt a thrill, for she admitted that the man had power to move her.  As yet she would not ask herself how far his power went, but she knew the question must be answered soon.  Other men had flattered her, and she had smiled, knowing what their compliments were worth, but she could not smile now.  Then she roused herself and went in quietly.

Festing met her next morning while the sun rose above the rounded masses of the beech wood, and entering a dewy pasture they skirted a fence half-smothered in briars.  Both felt invigorated by the freshness of the morning and brushed across the sparkling grass, engaged in careless talk.  By and by as Helen stooped to pick a mushroom a shrill scream came from beyond the fence, and she rose with an angry color in her face.

“Oh!” she said; “that spoils everything!”

“What is it?” Festing asked as the pitiful scream rose again.

“A rabbit, choking, in a snare,” she answered with a look of horror.

Festing leaped across a ditch and plunged into the briars.  Helen heard the rotten fence-rails smash and he vanished behind the thorny branches that closed across the gap.  She was glad he had gone so quickly; partly because it was her wish, and partly because she saw the cry of pain had moved him.  She liked to think he was compassionate.

As a matter of fact, Festing’s pity was soon mixed with rage as he came upon a scene of barbarous cruelty.  Three or four rabbits lay quiet upon the grass, but there were others that struggled feebly at his approach; their eyes protruding and strangling wires cutting into their throats.  He thought they were past his help, but one rolled round with half-choked screams and he ran to it first.  It was difficult to hold the struggling animal while he opened the thin brass noose, but he set it free, and it lay paralyzed with fear for a few moments before it ran off.