We were all glad to hear that the West Indies were a long way off, and I remember that, in spite of Mr. Wace’s solemn looks, we had a very merry dinner that day in the hall.  I don’t know if it was because of my being in better spirits, but I fancied Mrs. Brympton looked better too, and seemed more cheerful in her manner.  She had been for a walk in the morning, and after luncheon she lay down in her room, and I read aloud to her.  When she dismissed me I went to my own room feeling quite bright and happy, and for the first time in weeks walked past the locked door without thinking of it.  As I sat down to my work I looked out and saw a few snow-flakes falling.  The sight was pleasanter than the eternal rain, and I pictured to myself how pretty the bare gardens would look in their white mantle.  It seemed to me as if the snow would cover up all the dreariness, indoors as well as out.

The fancy had hardly crossed my mind when I heard a step at my side.  I looked up, thinking it was Agnes.

“Well, Agnes—­” said I, and the words froze on my tongue; for there, in the door, stood Emma Saxon.

I don’t know how long she stood there.  I only know I couldn’t stir or take my eyes from her.  Afterward I was terribly frightened, but at the time it wasn’t fear I felt, but something deeper and quieter.  She looked at me long and long, and her face was just one dumb prayer to me—­but how in the world was I to help her?  Suddenly she turned, and I heard her walk down the passage.  This time I wasn’t afraid to follow—­I felt that I must know what she wanted.  I sprang up and ran out.  She was at the other end of the passage, and I expected her to take the turn toward my mistress’s room; but instead of that she pushed open the door that led to the backstairs.  I followed her down the stairs, and across the passageway to the back door.  The kitchen and hall were empty at that hour, the servants being off duty, except for the footman, who was in the pantry.  At the door she stood still a moment, with another look at me; then she turned the handle, and stepped out.  For a minute I hesitated.  Where was she leading me to?  The door had closed softly after her, and I opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that she had disappeared.  But I saw her a few yards off, hurrying across the court-yard to the path through the woods.  Her figure looked black and lonely in the snow, and for a second my heart failed me and I thought of turning back.  But all the while she was drawing me after her; and catching up an old shawl of Mrs. Blinder’s I ran out into the open.

Emma Saxon was in the wood-path now.  She walked on steadily, and I followed at the same pace, till we passed out of the gates and reached the high-road.  Then she struck across the open fields to the village.  By this time the ground was white, and as she climbed the slope of a bare hill ahead of me I noticed that she left no foot-prints behind her.  At sight of that, my heart shrivelled up within me, and my knees were water.  Somehow, it was worse here than indoors.  She made the whole countryside seem lonely as the grave, with none but us two in it, and no help in the wide world.