It was with strange feelings that the girl and her mother, lately socheerful, passed out of the back door into the open air of the barton,laden with hay scents and the herby breath of cows. A fine sleet hadbegun to fall, and they trotted across the yard quickly. The stable-doorwas open; a light shone from it--from the lantern which always hungthere, and which Philip had lighted, as he said. Softly nearing thedoor, Mrs. Hall pronounced the name 'Helena!'

There was no answer for the moment. Looking in she was taken bysurprise. Two people appeared before her. For one, instead of thedrabbish woman she had expected, Mrs. Hall saw a pale, dark-eyed,ladylike creature, whose personality ruled her attire rather than wasruled by it. She was in a new and handsome gown, of course, and an oldbonnet. She was standing up, agitated; her hand was held by hercompanion--none else than Sally's affianced, Farmer Charles Darton, uponwhose fine figure the pale stranger's eyes were fixed, as his were fixedupon her. His other hand held the rein of his horse, which was standingsaddled as if just led in.

At sight of Mrs. Hall they both turned, looking at her in a way neitherquite conscious nor unconscious, and without seeming to recollect thatwords were necessary as a solution to the scene. In another moment Sallyentered also, when Mr. Darton dropped his companion's hand, led the horseaside, and came to greet his betrothed and Mrs. Hall.

'Ah!' he said, smiling--with something like forced composure--'this is aroundabout way of arriving, you will say, my dear Mrs. Hall. But we lostour way, which made us late. I saw a light here, and led in my horse atonce--my friend Johns and my man have gone back to the little inn withtheirs, not to crowd you too much. No sooner had I entered than I sawthat this lady had taken temporary shelter here--and found I wasintruding.'

'She is my daughter-in-law,' said Mrs. Hall calmly. 'My son, too, is inthe house, but he has gone to bed unwell.'

Sally had stood staring wonderingly at the scene until this moment,hardly recognizing Darton's shake of the hand. The spell that bound herwas broken by her perceiving the two little children seated on a heap ofhay. She suddenly went forward, spoke to them, and took one on her armand the other in her hand.

'And two children?' said Mr. Darton, showing thus that he had not beenthere long enough as yet to understand the situation.

'My grandchildren,' said Mrs. Hall, with as much affected ease as before.

Philip Hall's wife, in spite of this interruption to her firstrencounter, seemed scarcely so much affected by it as to feel any one'spresence in addition to Mr. Darton's. However, arousing herself by aquick reflection, she threw a sudden critical glance of her sad eyes uponMrs. Hall; and, apparently finding her satisfactory, advanced to her in ameek initiative. Then Sally and the stranger spoke some friendly wordsto each other, and Sally went on with the children into the house. Mrs.Hall and Helena followed, and Mr. Darton followed these, looking atHelena's dress and outline, and listening to her voice like a man in adream.

By the time the others reached the house Sally had already gone upstairswith the tired children. She rapped against the wall for Rebekah to comein and help to attend to them, Rebekah's house being a little 'spit-and-dab' cabin leaning against the substantial stone-work of Mrs. Hall'staller erection. When she came a bed was made up for the little ones,and some supper given to them. On descending the stairs after seeingthis done Sally went to the sitting-room. Young Mrs. Hall entered itjust in advance of her, having in the interim retired with her mother-in-law to take off her bonnet, and otherwise make herself presentable. Henceit was evident that no further communication could have passed betweenher and Mr. Darton since their brief interview in the stable.

Mr. Japheth Johns now opportunely arrived, and broke up the restraint ofthe company, after a few orthodox meteorological commentaries had passedbetween him and Mrs. Hall by way of introduction. They at once sat downto supper, the present of wine and turkey not being produced forconsumption to-night, lest the premature display of those gifts shouldseem to throw doubt on Mrs. Hall's capacities as a provider.

'Drink hearty, Mr. Johns--drink hearty,' said that matron magnanimously.'Such as it is there's plenty of. But perhaps cider-wine is not to yourtaste?--though there's body in it.'

'Quite the contrairy, ma'am--quite the contrairy,' said the dairyman.'For though I inherit the malt-liquor principle from my father, I am acider-drinker on my mother's side. She came from these parts, you know.And there's this to be said for't--'tis a more peaceful liquor, and don'tlie about a man like your hotter drinks. With care, one may live on it atwelvemonth without knocking down a neighbour, or getting a black eyefrom an old acquaintance.'

The general conversation thus begun was continued briskly, though it wasin the main restricted to Mrs. Hall and Japheth, who in truth requiredbut little help from anybody. There being slight call upon Sally'stongue, she had ample leisure to do what her heart most desired, namely,watch her intended husband and her sister-in-law with a view ofelucidating the strange momentary scene in which her mother and herselfhad surprised them in the stable. If that scene meant anything, itmeant, at least, that they had met before. That there had been no timefor explanations Sally could see, for their manner was still one ofsuppressed amazement at each other's presence there. Darton's eyes, too,fell continually on the gown worn by Helena as if this were an addedriddle to his perplexity; though to Sally it was the one feature in thecase which was no mystery. He seemed to feel that fate had impishlychanged his vis-a-vis in the lover's jig he was about to foot; that whilethe gown had been expected to enclose a Sally, a Helena's face looked outfrom the bodice; that some long-lost hand met his own from the sleeves.

Sally could see that whatever Helena might know of Darton, she knewnothing of how the dress entered into his embarrassment. And at momentsthe young girl would have persuaded herself that Darton's looks at hersister-in-law were entirely the fruit of the clothes query. But surelyat other times a more extensive range of speculation and sentiment wasexpressed by her lover's eye than that which the changed dress wouldaccount for.

Sally's independence made her one of the least jealous of women. Butthere was something in the relations of these two visitors which ought tobe explained.

Japheth Johns continued to converse in his well-known style,interspersing his talk with some private reflections on the position ofDarton and Sally, which, though the sparkle in his eye showed them to behighly entertaining to himself, were apparently not quite communicable tothe company. At last he withdrew for the night, going off to theroadside inn half-a-mile back, whither Darton promised to follow him in afew minutes.

Half-an-hour passed, and then Mr. Darton also rose to leave, Sally andher sister-in-law simultaneously wishing him good-night as they retiredupstairs to their rooms. But on his arriving at the front door with Mrs.Hall a sharp shower of rain began to come down, when the widow suggestedthat he should return to the fire-side till the storm ceased.

Darton accepted her proposal, but insisted that, as it was getting late,and she was obviously tired, she should not sit up on his account, sincehe could let himself out of the house, and would quite enjoy smoking apipe by the hearth alone. Mrs. Hall assented; and Darton was left byhimself. He spread his knees to the brands, lit up his tobacco as he hadsaid, and sat gazing into the fire, and at the notches of the chimney-crook which hung above.

An occasional drop of rain rolled down the chimney with a hiss, and stillhe smoked on; but not like a man whose mind was at rest. In the longrun, however, despite his meditations, early hours afield and a long ridein the open air produced their natural result. He began to doze.

How long he remained in this half-unconscious state he did not know. Hesuddenly opened his eyes. The back-brand had burnt itself in two, andceased to flame; the light which he had placed on the mantelpiece hadnearly gone out. But in spite of these deficiencies there was a light inthe apartment, and it came from elsewhere. Turning his head he sawPhilip Hall's wife standing at the entrance of the room with a bed-candlein one hand, a small brass tea-kettle in the other, and his gown, as itcertainly seemed, still upon her.

'Helena!' said Darton, starting up.

Her countenance expressed dismay, and her first words were an apology.'I--did not know you were here, Mr. Darton,' she said, while a blushflashed to her cheek. 'I thought every one had retired--I was coming tomake a little water boil; my husband seems to be worse. But perhaps thekitchen fire can be lighted up again.'

'Don't go on my account. By all means put it on here as you intended,'said Darton. 'Allow me to help you.' He went forward to take the kettlefrom her hand, but she did not allow him, and placed it on the fireherself.

They stood some way apart, one on each side of the fireplace, waitingtill the water should boil, the candle on the mantel between them, andHelena with her eyes on the kettle. Darton was the first to break thesilence. 'Shall I call Sally?' he said.

'O no,' she quickly returned. 'We have given trouble enough already. Wehave no right here. But we are the sport of fate, and were obliged tocome.'

'No right here!' said he in surprise.

'None. I can't explain it now,' answered Helena. 'This kettle is veryslow.'

There was another pause; the proverbial dilatoriness of watched pots wasnever more clearly exemplified.

Helena's face was of that sort which seems to ask for assistance withoutthe owner's knowledge--the very antipodes of Sally's, which wasself-reliance expressed. Darton's eyes travelled from the kettle toHelena's face, then back to the kettle, then to the face for rather alonger time. 'So I am not to know anything of the mystery that hasdistracted me all the evening?' he said. 'How is it that a woman, whorefused me because (as I supposed) my position was not good enough forher taste, is found to be the wife of a man who certainly seems to beworse off than I?'

'He had the prior claim,' said she.

'What! you knew him at that time?'

'Yes, yes! Please say no more,' she implored.

'Whatever my errors, I have paid for them during the last five years!'

The heart of Darton was subject to sudden overflowings. He was kind to afault. 'I am sorry from my soul,' he said, involuntarily approachingher. Helena withdrew a step or two, at which he became conscious of hismovement, and quickly took his former place. Here he stood withoutspeaking, and the little kettle began to sing.

'Well, you might have been my wife if you had chosen,' he said at last.'But that's all past and gone. However, if you are in any trouble orpoverty I shall be glad to be of service, and as your relation bymarriage I shall have a right to be. Does your uncle know of yourdistress?'

'My uncle is dead. He left me without a farthing. And now we have twochildren to maintain.'

'What, left you nothing? How could he be so cruel as that?'

'I disgraced myself in his eyes.'

'Now,' said Darton earnestly, 'let me take care of the children, at leastwhile you are so unsettled. You belong to another, so I cannot take careof you.'

'Yes you can,' said a voice; and suddenly a third figure stood besidethem. It was Sally. 'You can, since you seem to wish to?' she repeated.'She no longer belongs to another . . . My poor brother is dead!'

Her face was red, her eyes sparkled, and all the woman came to the front.'I have heard it!' she went on to him passionately. 'You can protect hernow as well as the children!' She turned then to her agitated sister-in-law. 'I heard something,' said Sally (in a gentle murmur, differing muchfrom her previous passionate words), 'and I went into his room. It musthave been the moment you left. He went off so quickly, and weakly, andit was so unexpected, that I couldn't leave even to call you.'

Darton was just able to gather from the confused discourse which followedthat, during his sleep by the fire, this brother whom he had never seenhad become worse; and that during Helena's absence for water the end hadunexpectedly come. The two young women hastened upstairs, and he wasagain left alone.

* * * * *

After standing there a short time he went to the front door and lookedout; till, softly closing it behind him, he advanced and stood under thelarge sycamore-tree. The stars were flickering coldly, and the dampnesswhich had just descended upon the earth in rain now sent up a chill fromit. Darton was in a strange position, and he felt it. The unexpectedappearance, in deep poverty, of Helena--a young lady, daughter of adeceased naval officer, who had been brought up by her uncle, asolicitor, and had refused Darton in marriage years ago--the passionate,almost angry demeanour of Sally at discovering them, the abruptannouncement that Helena was a widow; all this coming together was aconjuncture difficult to cope with in a moment, and made him questionwhether he ought to leave the house or offer assistance. But for Sally'smanner he would unhesitatingly have done the latter.

He was still standing under the tree when the door in front of himopened, and Mrs. Hall came out. She went round to the garden-gate at theside without seeing him. Darton followed her, intending to speak.

Pausing outside, as if in thought, she proceeded to a spot where the suncame earliest in spring-time, and where the north wind never blew; it waswhere the row of beehives stood under the wall. Discerning her object,he waited till she had accomplished it.

It was the universal custom thereabout to wake the bees by tapping attheir hives whenever a death occurred in the household, under the beliefthat if this were not done the bees themselves would pine away and perishduring the ensuing year. As soon as an interior buzzing responded to hertap at the first hive Mrs. Hall went on to the second, and thus passeddown the row. As soon as she came back he met her.

'What can I do in this trouble, Mrs. Hall?' he said.

'O--nothing, thank you, nothing,' she said in a tearful voice, now justperceiving him. 'We have called Rebekah and her husband, and they willdo everything necessary.' She told him in a few words the particulars ofher son's arrival, broken in health--indeed, at death's very door, thoughthey did not suspect it--and suggested, as the result of a conversationbetween her and her daughter, that the wedding should be postponed.

'Yes, of course,' said Darton. 'I think now to go straight to the innand tell Johns what has happened.' It was not till after he had shakenhands with her that he turned hesitatingly and added, 'Will you tell themother of his children that, as they are now left fatherless, I shall beglad to take the eldest of them, if it would be any convenience to herand to you?'

Mrs. Hall promised that her son's widow should he told of the offer, andthey parted. He retired down the rooty slope and disappeared in thedirection of the inn, where he informed Johns of the circumstances.Meanwhile Mrs. Hall had entered the house, Sally was downstairs in thesitting-room alone, and her mother explained to her that Darton hadreadily assented to the postponement.

'No doubt he has,' said Sally, with sad emphasis. 'It is not put off fora week, or a month, or a year. I shall never marry him, and she will!'