‘Sit down, and let us talk about it,’ said Dagworthy.

She did not seem to notice that he had taken her hand; but the next moment he was holding her in his arm, and with a cry she broke away.

‘There are others in the house,’ she exclaimed, her wild, fearful eyes seeking other exit than that which he stopped.  ’I must call for their help.  Can you not see that I am suffering—­ill?  Are you pitiless?  But no—­no—­for you have spared him!’

Dagworthy mastered himself, though it cost him something, and spoke with an effort at gentleness.

‘What thanks have you to give me, Emily?’

‘My life’s gratitude—­but that will be your least reward.’

‘Ay, but how is the gratitude going to be shown?’

Her keen sense found a fear in his manner of speaking.

‘You have not said a word to him,’ she asked, seeming to forget his question.

Of what ultimate use was it to lie?  And she would not suffer him within reach of her.

‘I couldn’t very well help doing that,’ he replied, unable to resolve how it were best to speak, and uttering the first words that came, carelessly.

‘Then he knows you have discovered—­’

Her voice failed.  Such explanation of her father’s absence was a new terror.

‘Yes, he knows,’ Dagworthy answered, cruelty resuming its fascination.  ’I couldn’t keep him at the mill, you know, though I let him off his punishment.’

‘You dismissed him?’

‘I did.  It’s not too late to have him back, and something better.’

‘Let me go!’ she said hoarsely.

He moved from the door; sight of such misery vanquished even him.

When she reached home, her mother was standing with two or three neighbours in front of the house at the sight of Emily there were exclamations of relief and welcome.

‘My child, where can you have been?’ Mrs. Hood cried, following the girl who passed the garden-gate without pausing.

‘Is father come?’ was the reply.

’No, not yet.  But where have you been?  Why, you were coming from the Heath, Emily, in the night air, and you so ill!’

‘I have been to ask Mr. Dagworthy,’ Emily said in a tired voice.  ’He knows nothing of him.’

Her strength bore her into the parlour, then she sank upon the couch and closed her eyes.  Mrs. Hood summoned the help of her friends.  Unresisting, with eyes still closed, silent, she was carried upstairs and laid in her bed.  Her mother sat by her.  Midnight came, and Hood did not return.  Already Mrs. Hood had begun to suspect something mysterious in Emily’s anxiety; her own fears now became active.  She went to the front door and stood there with impatience, by turns angry and alarmed.  Her husband had never been so late.  She returned to the bedroom.

‘Emily, are you awake, dear?’

The girl’s eyes opened, but she did not speak.

‘Do you know any reason why your father should stay away?’