see, for when he finally stepped in, it was not an open view of the Hollow which met his eyes, but the purple-clad figure of Mrs. Averill with little Peggy at her side.  He had not expected to see the child, and, standing as they were with their backs to him, they presented a picture which, for some reason to be found in the mysterious recesses of his disordered mind, was exceedingly repellent to him.  Indeed, he was so stricken by it that he had actually made a move to withdraw, when the exigency of the occasion returned upon him in full force, and, with a smothered oath, he overcame his weakness and stepped firmly up into the ruins.

The noise he made should have caused Deborah’s tall and graceful figure to turn.  But the spell of her own thoughts was too great; and he would have found himself compelled to utter the first word, if the child, who had heard him plainly enough, had not dragged at the woman’s hand and so woke her from her dream.

“Ah, Judge Ostrander,” she exclaimed in a hasty but not ungraceful greeting, “you are very punctual.  I was not looking for you yet.”  Then, as she noted the gloom under which he was labouring, she continued with real feeling, “Indeed, I appreciate this sacrifice you have made to my wishes.  It was asking a great deal of you to come here; but I saw no other way of making my point clear.  Come over here, Peggy, and build me a little house out of these stones.  You don’t mind the child, do you, judge?  She may offer a diversion if our retreat is invaded.”

The gesture of disavowal which he made was courteous but insincere.  He did mind the child, but he could not explain why; besides he must overcome such folly.

“Now,” she continued as she rejoined him on the place where he had taken his stand, “I will ask you to go back with me to the hour when John Scoville left the tavern on that fatal day.  I am not now on oath, but I might as well be for any slip I shall make in the exact truth.  I was making pies in the kitchen, when some one came running in to say that Reuther had strayed away from the front yard.  She was about the age of the little one over there, and we never allowed her out alone for fear of her tumbling off the bluff.  So I set down the pie I was just putting in the oven, and was about to run out after her when my husband called to me from the front, and said he would go.  I didn’t like his tone—­it was sullen and impatient, but I knew he loved the child too well to see her suffer any danger, and so I settled back to work and was satisfied enough till the pies were all in.  Then I got uneasy, and, hearing nothing of either of them, I started in this direction because they told me John had taken the other.  And here I found her, sir, right in the heart of these ruins.  She was playing with stones just as Peggy dear is doing now.  Greatly relieved, I was taking her away when I thought I heard John calling.  Stepping up to the edge just behind where you are standing, sir—­yes, there, where you get such a broad outlook up and down the ravine, I glanced in the direction from which I had heard his call—­Just wait a moment, sir; I want to know the exact time.”