How Rachel Slept that Night in Redman’s Farm.

‘Allow me — pray do,’ and he took her little bag from her hand. ‘I hope you are not very tired, darling; you’ve been so very good; and you’re not afraid — you know the place is so quiet — of the little walk by yourself. Take my arm; I’ll go as far as I can, but it is very late you know — and you are sure you are not afraid?’

‘I ought to be afraid of nothing now, Stanley, but I think I am afraid of everything.’

‘Merely a little nervous — it’s nothing — I’ve been wretchedly since, myself; but, I’m so glad you are home again; you shall have no more trouble, I assure you; and not a creature suspects you have been from home. Old Tamar has behaved admirably.’

Rachel sighed again and said —

‘Yes — poor Tamar.’

‘And now, dear, I’m afraid I must leave you — I’m very sorry; but you see how it is; keep to the shady side, close by the hedge, where the trees stop; but I’m certain you will meet no one. Tamar will tell you who has called — hardly anyone — I saw them myself every day at Brandon, and told them you were ill. You’ve been very kind, Radie; I assure you I’ll never forget it. You’ll find Tamar up and watching for you — I arranged all that; and I need not say you’ll be very careful not to let that girl of yours hear anything. You’ll be very quiet — she suspects nothing; and I assure you, so far as personal annoyance of any kind is concerned, you may be perfectly at ease. Good-night, Radie; God bless you, dear. I wish very much I could see you all the way, but there’s a risk in it, you know. Good-night, dear Radie. By-the-bye, here’s your bag; I’ll take the rug, it’s too heavy for you, and I may as well have it to Dollington.’

He kissed her cheek in his slight way, and left her, and was soon on his way to Dollington, where he slept that night — rather more comfortably than he had done since Rachel’s departure.

Rachel walked on swiftly. Very tired, but not at all sleepy — on the contrary, excited and nervous, and rather relieved, notwithstanding that Stanley had left her to walk home alone.

It seemed to her that more than a month had passed since she saw the mill-road last. How much had happened! how awful was the change! Familiar objects glided past her, the same, yet the fashion of the countenance was altered; there was something estranged and threatening.

The pretty parsonage was now close by: in the dews of night the spirit of peace and slumbers smiled over it; but the sight of its steep roof and homely chimney-stacks smote with a shock at her brain and heart — a troubled moan escaped her. She looked up with the instinct of prayer, and clasped her hands on the handle of that little bag which had made the mysterious journey with her; a load which no man could lift lay upon her heart.

Then she commenced her dark walk up the mill-road — her hands still clasped, her lips moving in broken appeals to Heaven. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but passed on with inflexible gaze and hasty steps, like one who crosses a plank over some awful chasm.

In such darkness Redman’s dell was a solemn, not to say an awful, spot; and at any time, I think, Rachel, in a like solitude and darkness, would have been glad to see the red glimmer of old Tamar’s candle proclaiming under the branches the neighbourhood of human life and sympathy.

The old woman, with her shawl over her head, sat listening for her young mistress’s approach, on the little side bench in the trellised porch, and tottered hastily forth to meet her at the garden wicket, whispering forlorn welcomes, and thanksgivings, which Rachel answered only with a kiss.

Safe, safe at home! Thank Heaven at least for that. Secluded once more — hidden in Redman’s Dell; but never again to be the same — the careless mind no more. The summer sunshine through the trees, the leafy songs of birds, obscured in the smoke and drowned in the discord of an untold and everlasting trouble.

The hall-door was now shut and bolted. Wise old Tamar had t............