“Oh, my dear! my dear!” she cried, but the sound of her own voice startled her into silence.  The cry of her heart was: 

“What is all that I have worth without you!  How gladly would I give up my all, if only I could hold you warm and breathing in my arms!”

Then she fell to thinking what a joyous time would be hers at this season of the year, were her boy alive and if they were going to spend Christmas together.  Pain possessed her; its operation seemed to isolate her from the world that she had lately known.  She breathed an atmosphere of anguish; the mourning that the presence of those in the churchyard had caused their loved ones seemed to find expression in her heart, till, happily, tears eased her pain.

Then she became conscious of the physical discomfort occasioned by kneeling on the ground in the cold night air.

She got up.  In order to take a last look at the grave, she lit another match.  This burned steadily, enabling her to glance about her to see what companionship her boy possessed on this drear December night.  The feeble match flame intensified the gloom and emphasised the deep, black quietude of the place.  This hamlet of the dead was amazingly remote from all suggestions of life.  It appeared to hug itself for its complete detachment from human interests.  It seemed desolate, alone, forgotten by the world.  As Mavis left its stillness, she thought: 

“At least he’s found a great peace.”

Before Mavis left the churchyard, the stars enabled her to discern her path.  She hastened in the direction of Melkbridge, wondering if her absence had been discovered.  As before, she believed that she was followed, but strove to think that the footsteps she was all but certain she heard were the echo of her own.  As she hurried through the town, this impression became a conviction.  She was alarmed, and resolved to find out who it was who had elected to spy upon her actions.  When she came to the place where the road branched off to her house, she concealed herself in the shadow of the wall.  She had not long to wait.  Very soon, the tall upright figure of a man swung into the road in which she was standing.  One glance was enough to tell her that it was Windebank.  As he was about to pass her, he paused as if to listen.

“Who are you looking for?” asked Mavis, who was anxious to discover what he was doing out of doors.

“Let me see you home,” he said coldly.

“If anyone sees us, they will think—­” she began.

“We shan’t meet anyone.  It’s not safe for you to be out.”

They walked in silence.  As he did not express the least surprise at finding her out alone in the small hours of the morning, Mavis believed that he had divined her intention of going to Pennington and had hung about the house till she had come out, when he had followed, all the way to and from her destination, in order to protect her from harm.