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She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. I don’t know what has come over me. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him.
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