Naomi's room opened upon the back veranda¹, and in quitting it next morning it was not unnatural² that she should pause to contemplate³ the place where so many things had lately happened, which, she felt, must leave their mark upon her life for good or evil. It was here that she might have seen the danger of unreserved sympathy with so sensitive and enthusiastic a nature as that of the piano-tuner. Indeed, she had seen it, and made suitable resolutions on the spot; but these she had broken, and wilfully⁴ shut her eyes to that danger until the young man had told her, quite plainly enough, that he loved her. Nay⁵, she had made him tell her that, and until he did so she had purposely withheld⁶ from him the knowledge that she was already engaged. That was the cruel part of it, the part of which she was now most sincerely ashamed. Yet some power stronger than her own will had compelled her to act as she had done, and certainly she had determined⁷ beforehand to take the first opportunity of severing⁸ all ties still existing between herself and Monty Gilroy. And it was here that she had actually broken off her engagement with him within a few minutes of her announcement of it to Hermann Engelhardt. Still she was by no means pleased with herself as she stepped out into the flood of sunshine that filled the back veranda of a morning, and saw everything as it had been overnight, even to the book she had laid aside open when Gilroy rode up. It was lying shut in the self-same spot. This little difference was the only one.  
She went round to the front of the house, looking out rather nervously⁹ for Engelhardt on the way. Generally he met her in the front veranda, but this morning he was not there. Mrs. Potter was laying the breakfast-table, but she had not seen him either. She looked searchingly at her young mistress as she answered her question.
 
"Are you quite well, miss?" she asked at length, without preamble¹⁰. "You look as though you hadn't slep' a wink¹² all night."
 
"No more I have," said Naomi, calmly.
 
"Good gracious, miss!" cried Mrs. Potter, clapping down the plate-basket with a jingle¹³. "Whatever has been the matter? That nasty toothache, I'll be bound!"
 
"No, it wasn't a tooth this time. I may as well tell you what it was," added Naomi, "since you're bound to know sooner or later. Well, then, Mr. Gilroy has left the station for good, and I am not ever going to marry him. That's all."
 
"And I'm thankful——"
 
Mrs. Potter checked herself with a gulp¹⁴.
 
"So am I," said her mistress, dryly; "but it's a little exciting, and I let it keep me awake. You are to pack up his boxes, please, so that I may send them to the township in the spring-cart. But now make haste with the tea, for I need a cup badly, and I'll go and sing out to Mr. Engelhardt. Did you call him, by the way?"
 
"Yes, miss, I called him as usual."
 
Naomi left the breakfast-room, and was absent some three or four minutes. She came back looking somewhat scared.
 
"I've called him, too," she said, "at the top of my voice. But there's no making him hear anything. I've hammered at his door and at his window, too; both are shut, as if he wasn't up. I do wish that you would come and see whether he is."
 
A moment later Mrs. Potter was crossing the sandy yard, with Naomi almost treading on her ample skirts until they reached the barracks, which the elderly woman entered alone. No sooner, however, had she opened Engelhardt's door than she called her mistress to the spot. The room was empty. It was clear at a glance that the bed had not been slept in.
 
"If he hasn't gone away and left us without a word!" cried Mrs. Potter, indignantly.
 
"I am looking for his valise," said Naomi. "Where has he generally kept it?"
 
"Just there, underneath¹⁵ the dressing-table. He has taken it with him. There's nothing belonging to him in the room!"
 
"Except that half-crown under the tumbler, which is evidently meant for you. No, Mrs. Potter, I'm afraid you're right. The half-crown settles it. I should take it if I were you. And now I'll have my breakfast, if you please."
 
"But, miss, I can't understand——"
 
"No more can I. Make the tea at once, please. A little toast is all that I require with it."
 
And Naomi went slowly back toward the house, but stopped half way, with bent¹⁶ head and attentive¹⁷ eyes, and then went slower still. She had discovered in the sand the print of feet in stockings only. These tracks led up to the veranda, where they ended opposite the sitting-room¹⁸ door, which Naomi pushed open next moment. The room wore its ordinary appearance, but the pile of music which Engelhardt had brought with him for sale had been removed from the top of the piano to the music-stool; and lying conspicuously¹⁹ across the music, Naomi was mortified²⁰ to find a silk handkerchief of her own, which the piano-tuner had worn all the week as a sling²¹ for his arm. She caught it up with an angry exclamation²², and in doing so caught sight of some obviously left-handed writing on the topmost song of the pile. She stooped and read:
 
"These songs for Miss Pryse, with deep gratitude²³ for all her kindness to Hermann Engelhardt."
 
It was a pale, set face that Mrs. Potter found awaiting her in the breakfast-room when the toast was ready and the tea made. Very little of the toast was eaten, and Mrs. Potter saw no more of her young mistress until the mid-day meal, to which Naomi sat down in her riding-habit.
 
"Just wait, Mrs. Potter," said she, hastily helping²⁴ herself to a chop. "Take a chair yourself. I want to speak to you."
 
"Very good, miss," said the old lady, sitting down.
 
"I want to know when you last set eyes on Sam Rowntree."
 
"Let me see, miss. Oh, yes, I remember; it was about this time yesterday. He came to the kitchen, and told me he was going to run up a fresh mob of killing-sheep out of Top Scrubby, and how much meat could I do with? I said half a sheep, at the outside, and that was the last I saw of him."
 
"He never came near you last night?"
 
"That he didn't, miss. I was looking out for him. I wanted——"
 
"You didn't see him in the distance, or hear him whistling?"
 
"No, indeed I didn't."
 
"Well, he seems to have vanished into space," said Naomi, pushing away her plate and pouring out a cup of tea.
 
"It's too bad," said Mrs. Potter, with sympathy and indignation in equal parts. "I can't think what he means—to go and leave us alone like this."
 
"I can't think what Mr. Chester meant by not telling me that he was gone," remarked Naomi, hotly.
 
"I 'xpect he knew nothing about it, miss. He went off before daylight, him and the two men that come in with the sheep they was to take on to the shed."
 
"How can you know that?" inquired Naomi, with a touch of irritation²⁵. Her tea was very hot, and she was evidently in a desperate hurry.
 
"Because Mr. Chester asked me to put his breakfast ready for him overnight; and I did, too, and when I got up at six he'd had it and gone long ago. The teapot was cold. The men had gone, too, for I gave 'em their suppers last night, and they asked for a snack to take before their early start this morning. They must all have got away by five. They wouldn't hardly try to disturb Sam so early as all that; so they weren't to know he wasn't there."
 
"Well, he wasn't," said Naomi, "and it's disgraceful, that's what it is! Here we are without a man on the place, and there are nearly a hundred at the shed! I have had to catch a horse, and saddle it for myself." As she spoke²⁶ Naomi made a last gulp at her hot tea, and then jumped up from the table.
 
"You are going to the shed, miss?"
 
"No; to the township."
 
"Ah, that's where you'll find him!"
 
"I hope I may," said Naomi, softly, and her eyes were far away. She was in the veranda, buttoning her gloves.
 
"I meant Sam Rowntree, miss."
 
Naomi blushed.
 
"I meant Mr. Engelhardt," said she,

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